Page 61 of Satan's Spawn
I try to ignore how sexy he looks as he leans his shoulder against the open door, those blue eyes speculating me as I straighten up. “What are you doing here?” I ask, trying not to seem embarrassed by my predicament.
And why the hell isn’t he dressed for school anymore?
He flips the bar up in the air, catching it in the same hand. “You should really start taking a chaperone to the bathroom.”
“Or you and your Ice Queen could leave me the hell alone.”
“Now where’s the fun in that?” He tosses the metal onto the floor by my feet, forcing me to jump back.
“Asshole!” I bite.
“Been called worse.” His lip twitches, reminding me of the name I called him in the staircase.
Is it still bothering him? If so, good.
“I need to get back to class,” I announce with a fold of my arms. “You know, so I don’t get my head chewed off for makingyouskip again.”
The insinuation has him chuckling. “You really should. Gibson will be furious.”
Of course he knows my schedule.
“You stalking me now, or what?”
“You showed up at my school, Little Ghost. Or did you forget?”
I am so sick and tired of hearing Crayton refer to a school with well over…I don’t know…five hundred students as onlyhis.
“Would you stop fucking calling me that?” My face contorts into a scowl. “I don’t know what your angle is, but if you think bullying me into leaving Riverside will work you might as well quit while you’re ahead.”
“Is that so?” His eyes turn to slits as he stalks over to me, and I don’t even realize a hand is wrapped around my upper arm until I’m pushed against the wall.
“Get off me!” I try to wiggle out of Crayton’s grasp, my fist flying into his shoulder without quitting.
Crayton doesn’t even wince as I wail on him, probably because the muscles flexing under his shirt are harder than any punch I’d have to offer. I’m also getting a front row seat to the tattoos I got a glimpse of when I followed him to the park. It’s a mixture of tiny quotes and this really intricate dragon wrapping around his entire arm.
Kind of like his hand around mine.
Which is what Ishouldbe focusing on, given he’s holding me against my will.
I take a mental note to work on my survival skills, since a swift reaction time would’ve really come in handy the last seventeen times this idiot invaded my personal space.
My heart races as I look up at him, imagining all the ways I’d stab him with my eyes if I could.
“Get the fuck off me,” I demand through a harsh breath.
He does the opposite of course, drawing so close his body squeezes mine, and I try to ignore where hisareais pressing into.
“Make me,” Crayton grits out, his masculine cologne intoxicating me in all the worst ways.
I look around the bathroom, finding nothing but the crowbar in close reach. Deciding it’s my only option if I want to escape, I use this time to conjure up the perfect plan.
Which begins with stalling.
“Or I can let the cops.”
A wolfish laugh follows the threat, and I don’t know what enrages me more, the fact he’s mocking me or how he probably has every reason to.
I bet the police won’t do shit about him, either.
