Page 52 of Fractured Fates
Several of the students gasp in amazement. One or two of them are likely genuine.
“You make it look easy, Mr. Moreau.”
“Because it is,” I tell her, surveying the room, meeting every pupil’s eyes, reminding them I’m more powerful than any of them.
Then I drop in my seat.
“Would anyone else like to try?” Dr. Johnson asks.
Nobody’s as eager after my show of dominance, but one hand rises.
I almost laugh.
“Miss Blackwaters.” The professor nods in her direction.
She uncurls herself from her chair and lifts her hand up for everyone to see like I had done. Her eyes meet mine and holding my gaze, she frowns in concentration.
I smirk at her. What the fuck is she playing at?
She frowns harder. Her fingers begin to smoke and then a bright red flame dances into life in her palm.
No one speaks. The classroom is silent, only the quiet flicker of the fire in her hand.
“Thank you, Miss Blackwaters,” Dr, Johnson says, turning towards the whiteboard.
The pig girl closes her hand and the flame extinguishes with a hiss. She smiles at me in triumph, her pretty honey eyes sparkling, and the black cloud resting over my head just got a hell of a lot darker.
* * *
I takemy time strolling to the gymnasium, letting the other students rush about me like deranged ants. If I’m late, coach won’t give a damn. I’m his star. It makes me all the more angry that he picked me to teach the pig girl.
The locker room is silent as I strip off my uniform and tug on my kit, people eyeing each other anxiously and everyone trying to avoid catching my attention.
I’m dressed and out the door before anyone else and then I’m striding next door, crashing through the door and into the girl’s changing room.
High voices scream, squeal and yelp, and I catch the sight of flesh, tits and panties. I swing my gaze around, most of the girls trying their best to cover themselves with arms or blouses, a few standing there for me to admire. Finally, I find the pig girl. Right in the fucking corner as usual. Standing in her mismatched fucking bra and panties. The girl needs to eat more. She’s all skin and bones.
She turns around to see what all the fuss is about and stares straight into my face. For a moment, that connection penetrates deep inside my chest and my breath hitches in my throat.
My eyes dip to her chest and I smirk at her. Surprisingly, she actually possesses a nice-looking rack. Despite her titchy size, her tits are a perfect handful.
Then before anyone can say a word or attempt to shoo me out of the locker room, I dip my shoulder and charge at her. She screams, the noise of her alarm only making me more determined. I bundle her up into my arms and stuff her, kicking and cursing, into the nearest locker.
I struggle for a moment to cram those long spindly arms and legs of hers inside the locker, her nails scraping against my skin in a way that’s almost goddamn erotic. But then I succeed, slamming the locker door shut, blocking out the sounds of her yells. I twist the lock and lean panting against the door, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Behind me, the girls’ locker room is nearly as silent as the boys’ was two minutes ago. You could hear a pin drop.
Slowly, I turn to face the room, my brow drawn low in a scowl.
“Anyone lets her out, they’ll have to answer to me. Understood?”
Several girls nod. Some simply drop their eyes to the floor.
I wait for anyone to speak up for her. Nobody does and I charge away, ignoring the sounds of her tiny fists thundering against the locker door.
17
Rhi
