Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

GRAVE

Whatever is bothering Kayce is strewn across her face and obvious in her body language. Someone upset her today, and at the rate rage is coursing through my veins, it is overly apparent that I don't like seeing her like this.

The mask covering my face hides the flaring nostrils of my deep, heavy breaths, and the tightly balled fists at my sides are outside the camera's view. I try to hide my anger from her, but there is no denying it in my tone as I speak through the gritted teeth of my clenched jaw.

"Did someone hurt you, cinnamon?"

"Yes…I mean, no," she stammers and struggles to maintain eye contact with the camera. "He didn't actually do anything."

"He obviously did something ," I snarl, my anger unintentionally misplaced.

Tears well in her eyes—only fueling my fury—as I give her a moment to collect her thoughts before pushing for more information.

"My psych professor flunked my midterm, and I know I aced it. It's going to ruin my GPA," she sniffles. That wasn't a fatherly look of concern at all this afternoon. That fuck was jealous of how I was looking at her. Using the backs of her fingers, she carefully wipes under her eyes to gather her pending tears without smearing her makeup. "But he was generous enough to offer me"—Kayce air quotes—"extra credit if I fucked him."

"There's no way in hell you're going to fuck him," I angrily blurt out before I can stop myself from showing my vicious jealousy.

"I might fuck myself on camera for money, but I'm not a fucking whore," she spits, tears trickling from her eyes as she doesn't understand the reasoning behind my outburst.

"That's not what I mea—" Kayce slams shut the lid of her laptop, abruptly ending our conversation before I can finish. "Fuck!"

Shoving away from my desk, I pace around my apartment for a few minutes before grabbing a gray Oakridge hoodie from the foot of my bed. I toss it on and shove my mask into the front pocket before storming into the hallway. With heavy, brisk steps, I make my way downstairs and to the adjacent parking garage.

Reaching my Audi A5 Coupe, I slide behind the steering wheel and gun the engine. My tires squeal against the concrete as I tear from the parking space and toward the source of Kayce's problem. Delving into the people in her life seemed like overkill a couple of months ago, but tonight it's proving to be quite fucking helpful to know Professor Stewart's address.

He doesn't live far from campus, and it takes only a few minutes to reach the quaint Cape Cod he lives in—alone. I drive a few houses further down the block before pulling to the curb and parking.

If I wind up fucking killing him, I really don't want my car parked out front.

After helping myself into the backyard, I peer through his window as I pull my skeleton mask back over my face.

Professor Stewart is enjoying a glass of red wine while sitting on the couch . Almost as much as he's enjoying the blonde co-ed kneeling at his feet, bobbing her head between his thighs as she sucks his cock.

Fucking prick.

They both startle when I forcibly let myself through the backdoor, him struggling to put his cock away as he clamors from the couch and her screaming. I storm toward him as he shouts, "Get the fuck out of my house!"

Slamming both my hands against his chest, I shove him into the couch he just stood from before turning my attention to the blonde . "Do you want to be here?"

Barely able to make eye contact with me, she shakes her head in response.

"Are you sucking his cock so you can pass his class? "

"Yes," she answers in a shameful whisper.

"Leave," I command. "You weren't here. You didn't see me."

"You leave, you fai—" My hands wrapping around his throat cut Professor Stewart's words short, and they do nothing to stop the blonde co-ed from hustling out the front door.

"Careful, Professor, because if you're that desperate to have your cock sucked, it might just wind up in your mouth before I leave," I snarl as his eyes grow wide. Tightening my grip on his throat, I loom over him, fighting the urge to remove him from existence. "That little blonde running out the front door, Kayce James, and any other fucking student you've tried to blackmail are getting A's, aren't they?"

His bluing lips part as he futilely struggles to gasp for air before quickly nodding.

"Good," I snark, relinquishing my white-knuckled grip to just one hand. Reaching between us, I grip his cock with my free hand and squeeze with enough force that he howls in pain. I don't relent but increase the ferocity my hold until he cannot control the tears of distress streaming down his face.

"And if you so much as think about acting on another sexual thought with a student, this"—I violently twist the vise of my fist around his cock—"is going to feel good compared to what happens if I have to come back. Understood? "

With wide eyes and an agonized expression, Professor Stewart quickly nods. Tipping my head to the side, I wish he could see the maniacal grin beneath my mask as I sneer, "Not good enough. I'm going to need to hear you say it."

"I…I won't," he painfully whimpers. "No. Ssss…st…stu…students."

"Good boy." I release my hold of his throat and cock before condescendingly patting his cheek. As he doubles over in pain and relieves his stomach of its contents, I let myself out as quickly as I got in.