Page 49 of Escaping Hallow Hill Academy
I was supposed to feel safe here.
I don’t feel safe. I feel imprisoned.
I feel fucking used.
I feel fucking violated by the things they haven’t yet done to me.
I fucking—
“Em,” a hesitant voice whispers.
It’s such a hesitant sound, I don’t recognize the tone against his lips. It’s out of place and foreign against his deep, tortured voice. It’s a beautiful gentleness I’ve never heard before.
I turn and lock eyes with the only other Sekar in the entire world. And the most emotionless asshole I’ve ever had to call my mentor.
Sialen’s eyes are like liquid silver as the moonlight shines into the intense concern highlighted in his tragic features. He stands in the darkness just in front of the closed door. He doesn’t come closer. He doesn’t reach for me.
He just stands there. Probably seeing me in all my messy glory for the first time in our screwed-up lives.
Of the three of them, he’s given me the most space. He’s left me to process.
And I don’t know why I hate him for that.
“I’m fine,” I cut out before the emotions in my throat can attack the simple words.
His hands push slowly into the pockets of his jeans. “You . . . you don’t have to lie to me.” He says it like he knows everything I’m feeling. I suppose he does. He was there with me, after all, and he’s been here longer than me. He has the fucked-up scars of our people to prove it. That’s what’s wrong with him. They experimented too hard, too much, and now he’s hardly a Sekar anymore.
Is that what's going to happen to me?
My heart cracks a little more. Every day it falls apart a bit more. A little here and a little there, and I don’t even know what the fuck is holding the little black thing together anymore.
“And you don’t have to pretend to be the mentor who actually gives a fuck. You can go. I’m fine.” I jut my chin up high, and it just makes me all the more aware of how wet my cheeks are.
A tremble wrecks through my hands and fingers before I can stop the reckless feeling. I throw the broken bits of lamp down and shove my arms across my chest hard, and then I’m holding myself.
I’m fucking holding myself together in this nightmare of an academy.
And he’s still here.
Waiting.
For what?
“Come here,” he says, rasping and graveling and sending an all-new shiver through my tense shoulders.
“Why?” It’s defensive. Of course it is. Why the fuck would I come to him? Why? Why? Why? That’s all I ask myself where this man is concerned. He didn't care about my feelings when I slid off that table, and he all but rushed me through the halls.
His pale hair hangs down into those deadly penetrating eyes of his. Even as he tilts his head at me and really studies me.
“You know, I’ve never had to fight someone so much on every single thing. And I kill people for a living, Em.” His gaze looks murderous right now. Still doesn’t give him the ballsy right to call me over like a puppy. Screw him! What kind of asstroll demands someone the way he does? What makes him think he has any kind of power whatsoever over me? “Emmera. Come. Here.” He drags those three little words out with violent affection that drills through me and settles coyly right between my thighs, tossing out all hateful logic on its way down.
I’m left without a thought in my head. And too much energy building low within me.
Then I do exactly as he commands.
My legs carry me to him, and all I can think is about how relaxed his features are. There’s no anger in him. No frustration. Soft concern is all that smooths his good looks.
Holy Lady of Death, why is he so beautiful?
