Chapter Eighteen

Maureen

"There has to be something you can do. He's my best friend's brother. Isn't that a conflict of interest?"

Miss Florian glares up at me from behind her pointy glasses. "No, Miss Blackwell, it's not. And no, there's nothing I can do. The drop period has passed. So unless you want to get an F, you'll need to get yourself over to Professor Crane's poetry class immediately."

I roll my eyes at her and storm out of the admin office. A chill sweeps through my bones as I stand on the front steps. Fuck. If Villette finds out that her brother watched me get fucked, she's going to be pissed. She might not ever talk to me again. A group of students snicker as they walk past me. I realize I'm just standing there, staring out into space with three ravens at my feet.

"Shoo. You're making me look crazy," I whisper. They squawk before flying off. I look around to see more eyes on me.

Fuck this.

Professor Crane's poetry class is at the other end of campus, and I'm already two minutes late. I throw my bag over my shoulder and book it through the woods. The wind whips my hair around my face, lashing my cheeks till I can barely see. I almost trip twice over fallen branches and foliage. But I keep running as fast as I can without making myself puke.

My hands tremble around the campus map. I've only been here one semester, but it feels like a lifetime. And yet, I still don't know my way around this fucking school. The buildings here are ominous. They aren't like the ones we have back in Wickford Hollow.

Tenebrose Academy looks like something you'd see out of a horror movie. Everything is dark and Gothic, black and grey, with stone walkways and iron spires. Gargoyles and statues of crying angels decorate almost every walkway and entrance.

As the forest starts to fall away and I inch closer to the spot marked on my map, I remember exactly where I am. I stop to catch my breath and gaze up at the monstrosity before me. Black walls, iron spires, and purple stained glass windows. It's the Goddess of Death church where I had my Appreciation of Melancholic Music class last semester. It was the first time I'd met Professor Harker, and he refused to answer my question about his students worshiping the goddess, Nephthys. Funny how I used to think that was a cult. Now that I belong to Nocturnus… everything else seems less threatening.

My pulse races out of control, and my heart feels like it's going to explode out of my chest. I can't believe I ran all the way here. I feel so fucking out of shape. Time to face the fucking music… well, poetry.

I look behind me one last time to see an unkindness of ravens watching me curiously. They don't annoy me as much as they used to. Ever since the night I got my first sigil from the guys, I've felt just as drawn to them as they are to me. We are tethered now. At first, their cries were agonizing. I was repulsed by them. But they've slowly settled inside me like they've always been there.

My adrenaline spikes as I spot Valentin between the trees. He leans against one of them, arms crossed. This is my new normal. The first thing he told me this morning was that Atlas's dad tried to have me kidnapped. The elders are unhinged. So the guys won't let me out of their sight now. But the darkness growing inside me is what they should really be afraid of.

My dreams are getting bloodier, more sadistic. And the acts of violence I've committed don't disgust me like they used to. I crave more. The rush of power and control. The need to show everyone I'm not the one to be fucked with. I never want to be that scared girl running through the woods again.

I turn away from him, now ten minutes late for this fucking class, and blow out a deep breath as I pull on the heavy wood door.

Oh no.

It's not as heavy as it fucking looks.

Fuck.

I practically rip it off the hinges because I underestimate its weight. The wind makes it blow back even harder as it shuts behind me with a loud bang.

I clutch my bag to my chest as twenty or so students spin around in their pews to ogle the hot mess that just blew into their class like a fucking hurricane. My eyes dart around the cold church, desperately seeking an empty place to sit.

Professor Crane stops mid-sentence when he sees me, his brown eyes playful and amused. "Miss Blackwell. Thanks for fitting us into your busy schedule. Please, take a seat so I can continue."

I feel my cheeks burn and know without any doubt they are bright red. "Sorry."

A guy with pale skin and white hair scoots over to allow me space to sit. The pew squeaks as I sit down, eliciting muffled laughter from the class. Shit. Fuck. "Sorry," I mumble again.

Professor Crane smirks. "All right, where was I?"

"The Haunted Palace," a pretty redhead drawls. She tilts her head to the side coyly.

In fact, all the women and men in this class are looking at the professor like he's a tasty snack. I forgot how striking he is. He projects an energy that oozes lust and sin. And everyone in this room is drinking it up like holy water.

"Yes, thank you, darling. That particular piece could very much be about a haunted palace, or it could mean something else entirely. Our bodies are temples, are they not? Palaces of trauma and emotions and dreams. Let's read between the lines, shall we? Open your book and turn to page thirty-three."

He smiles at the redhead again. "I'd like you to read the fifth stanza of Edgar Allan Poe's The Haunted Palace aloud, please, darling."

Darling?

This man is fucking slick. So charming, he's got everyone on the edge of their seats, mesmerized by his every move.

I follow along in the book as the girl reads, her voice practically purring as she caresses the words with the ache in her voice.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,

Assailed the monarch's high estate;

(Ah, let us mourn! —for never morrow

Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)

And round about his home the glory

That blushed and bloomed.

Is but a dim-remembered story.

Of the old time entombed.

Professor Crane gives her a wink as she looks up at him for approval. "Beautiful. Haunting. But was Poe referring to a house? Or was it about himself? Evil things in robes of sorrow assailed his high estate. These could be creatures or ghosts… but," he walks down the center of the room, locking eyes with every student as he passes each pew, "he could also be referring to his inner demons, the ghosts of his past that now haunt his mind."

My belly flips as he stops in front of my pew. I swallow hard as my palms start to sweat. We lock eyes, and he looks at me the same way he did the other night at Swallow. When he watched Riot, Atlas, and Val defile me in the dark corner of the bar.

"What do you think, Miss Blackwell? Was Poe writing about a haunted house or a haunted mind?" He rests his hand on the pew in front of me, and I can't help but notice how his long, slender fingers clench the wood as if he needs it to steady himself.

I gaze up and follow the vein in his neck all the way up to the muscle twitching in his jaw. This man is unnerved by something.

"Maybe it was both," I murmur. "Maybe he went mad because his palace was haunted."

Amusement flickers in his eyes. "Read the last four lines of the poem for me."

I fumble with the pages as this whole display strikes a nerve in my belly. It's not the way everyone focuses on me. It's the way he watches me… like I'm the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

I clear my throat and skim down the page until I find the last part of the poem.

While, like a ghostly rapid river,

Through the pale door

A hideous throng rush out forever,

And laugh—but smile no more.

"I think you might be right, Miss Blackwell. We'll never know." He turns away from me, and I release the breath I'm holding. He walks back to the altar and spins around to face us all again. "This class isn't about finding the answers. It's not about choosing between the literal and figurative. It's about embracing both. The true lesson comes from asking the right questions."

If I wasn't so embarrassed about what transpired between us at the bar, I'd actually really fucking enjoy this class.

He zeroes in on me again, sending goose pimples across my skin. "Over the next semester, we'll explore the works of some of the most haunted poets. There's no homework, no tests. All you have to do to get an A in this class is show up with an open mind, be on time, and ask questions. Sound good?"

A few students actually clap with glee. Fucking hell. Be on time. My cheeks burn again, but now it extends down to my neck and chest too. The harder I try to be a fly on the wall, the more I become the fucking elephant in the room. I suck at blending in. Fuck.

We spend the rest of the hour going over the syllabus and reading material and watching him try to field personal questions from several female students, including the panting redhead from earlier.

I try with all my power not to wear my emotions on my face. But I can't help it. My eye twitches every time someone asks him if there's a Mrs. Crane or a partner waiting for him at home.

Poor Villette. Once they find out she's his sister, she's going to have her own little fan club of Crane stalkers.

A bell tolls from a distant tower and sends all of the students scrambling from their pews. This is my chance to slip out. I have the advantage of sitting at the back, so I shove my book back into my bag and leap from my seat. Just as a large group rushes past, I dive in between them, almost knocking a couple of them over.

"Miss Blackwell." Professor Crane's voice reaches over the shuffle of feet and creaking pews.

His tone is soft but commanding. It stops me dead in my tracks.

Fuck.

I slowly turn around to see the smirks and eye rolls from the students, who undoubtedly think I'm about to be reprimanded for being late.

The redhead bumps her shoulder against mine. "Lucky bitch."

What the fuck? I'm tempted to grab her by the hair and drag her out back so I can return the favor, but I don't dare move. I'm already in enough trouble as it is.

I lock eyes with Professor Crane instead and wait for the rest of the class to file out.

As he stalks toward me, the click of his heels echoes through the church, bouncing off the stained glass windows and sending my adrenaline into overdrive. This very moment is the reason I tried so hard to get out of this fucking class.

"It seems you don't want to be here, Miss Blackwell. Wanna tell me why? I thought you enjoyed poetry." He stands dangerously close to me.

"Villette is my best friend here. You're her brother. This has nothing to do with poetry, and you know it, Professor Crane." I cross my arms in an attempt to seem aloof.

He flashes that damn smirk again. "You can call me Felix when we're alone. And I think what happened the other night at Swallow has just as much to do with poetry as anything else."

The heat spreads to the backs of my arms and down my legs. "I don't think it's a good idea for me to be in this class. It's… unethical."

Felix chuckles. "For you or for me?"

As I become more aware of our solitude in this massive iron church, my heart beats faster. The space between us is full of tension and uncertainty. I have no idea what he's going to do or say next, and it fucking terrifies me.

"For both of us. There's a laundry list of reasons why I shouldn't be your student."

His smirk fades, and his eyes darken. "But there's so many things I could teach you." He takes another step toward me, and it forces me to uncross my arms so they don't touch his chest.

Sweat beads down my back. "Are you still talking about poetry, Professor Crane?"

His bottom lip twitches as he gazes down at me. "I'm talking about how you loved every second of me watching you the other night."

The memory of Valentin thrusting his cock in my ass as I locked eyes with Felix flashes in my mind. "You don't know what I love," I whisper as shame fills me.

Felix cocks his head to the side as his gaze travels down the length of my body.

"O Rose thou art sick.

The invisible worm,

That flies in the night.

In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed.

Of crimson joy:

And his dark secret love

Does thy life destroy…"

"Stop quoting Poe to me, please. Am I in trouble for being late?"

"It's The Sick Rose by William Blake. And no you're not in trouble for being late. Although, I prefer that you don't do it again. You're in trouble for trying to avoid me… I'm joking. You're not really in trouble at all. Unless you want to be."

This man is going to be the death of me. "How the fuck am I supposed to sit in this class every day with you looking at me like that? After what you watched me do…"

"Because if you drop this class, I'll have to tell Villette why. I don't like keeping secrets from her." The smirk returns to his face.

Fucking fuck. "You're blackmailing me, now?"

He sighs. "No, I'm warning you that I won't lie to her if she asks why you're no longer in my class." He leans down and whispers in my ear, "Remember, Maur, it's not about finding the answers; it's about asking the right questions…"

My belly flips, my heart pounding. "Why did you watch?"

His lips still hover over my ear. "You are more exquisite than any poem I've ever read… Deny it all you want, Little Raven, but you came harder because I was watching you."

The door to the church flies open, shattering the static between us. I spin around to see Val charging down the aisle. "You're late for your next class, Maureen."

Felix chuckles. "My apologies. I asked her to stay after. I'll write her a note." He clicks his pen open and starts scribbling away on his notepad.

My heart is beating in my fucking throat.

"Why is that, Professor Crane?" Val's eyes are murderous.

A devious twinkle flickers in Felix's eyes. "We were discussing poetry, naturally. One of my favorite poems in particular."

Oh, fuck.

I snatch the note out of his hand and push Val toward the door. "Thank you, Professor. See you next week."

"Which poem is your favorite?" Val calls out.

Every cell in my body is on fire. My hands are shaking against Val's chest as I try to urge him outside. I swear to fuck if this man says my name…

Felix chuckles. "Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven, of course. Good day, Miss Blackwell."

My stomach flips, but I let out a sigh of relief.

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming—my favorite line from The Raven…

Val growls as I finally get him out the church doors. "I was worried when you didn't come out with the others. Then I remembered who's class you're in. What the fuck did he really want with you, Maur?"

I shake my head. There's too much going on right now. So many enemies and threats. The last thing we need is another one. "We talked about poetry."

Val snickers. "Don't fucking keep secrets from me, Maur. He watched me bend you over and fuck you in the ass the other night. He watched all of us pass you around like a fucking toy. And he didn't say anything to you about it?"

I throw up my hands, frustrated. "Yeah. So what? He mentioned that he knew it turned me on. That was it. He said it's not a big deal and that it won't affect me taking his class." This is all partially true.

Val wraps his hand around my throat and drags me into the woods. When we're halfway in, he slams me up against a tree. "I will get the fucking truth out of you."

He unbuttons my jeans with his other hand, unzipping them before sliding two fingers down my panties. I let out a soft moan as he thrusts them inside my pussy.

"Would you want him to watch you again?"

"Yes." I can't fucking lie to him. Especially with his slick fingers deep inside me.

He shoves a third finger in, pumping in and out violently. "Does he want to touch you?"

I shake my head as I clench around his fingers. "I don't know…"

He rolls his thumb over my clit, and I buck against the tree. The bark digs into my back, cutting my skin. Blood and sweat trickle down my spine. "Do you want him to touch you?"

Fuck. I'm about to cum, and all I can think about is the church of the Goddess of Death and Edgar fucking Allan Poe. "I… I don't know."

Val squeezes my throat so tight that stars blur my vision. He pinches my clit at the same time. I nearly convulse as a deep orgasm ripples through me, rocking my core like a fucking atom bomb. I cry out as I grind and twist against his hand.

"Mmm, yeah. Now I get the truth." He slows his pace as I come down, gently caressing my pussy lips. "Let me know when you figure out the answer to my last question, Maur."

Felix's voice echoes in my head—it's not about finding the answers; it's about asking the right questions…

Fucking hell. What have I gotten myself into this fucking time?