Crown of Thorns

I flare my nostrils. He’s not wrong, technically. When my tuition was a perk of Nina’s job, I had to maintain a certain GPA. Now that Jasper has somehow paid my tuition in cash, I’m not at as much risk of getting kicked out if my grades slip. Still, I can’t slack. Basically, what that all amounts to is an empty threat on my part, and he’s just called me on it.

“And you’d just bomb it, is that it? Let yourself fail because you just can’t be bothered?”

His blazer tightens around his wide shoulders with his shrug. “There are much better things I could be doing with my time.”

“Like what?” I don’t know why I’m bothering with him. It’s obvious he doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself, and people with little money mean absolutely nothing to him. Besides, he’s right about one thing—I typically wouldn’t take the bait.

So why can’t I seem to stop?

“Well?” I probe. “What else could you be doing with your precious time?”

He doesn’t answer right away and instead rakes his eyes all along my body, lingering on my lips and breasts. My cheeks heat and I fight the urge to cover myself with my arms.

A long beat drags by before he casually says, “You.”

My breath leaves me in a rush. Holy shit, I hadn’t expected that, and damn my body’s instant response to his words. My spine stiffens and my fingers curl slightly. That flickering in my pulse goes wilder, just like my heartbeat. Why is this happening?

Phoenix’s green eyes flash and he unfolds his arms and moves just the tiniest bit closer. When he addresses me again, his minty breath ghosts across my skin, blowing wisps of hair out of my face. “You like that idea, don’t you, señorita?”

“Stop calling me that,” I say, my face hotter than ever. “Just … stop.”

“Why? Because it turns you on? Makes dirty, ungodly things happen inside those cheap panties?” He trails the tip of his thumb across his upper lip as he takes in my flushed cheeks and broken breaths.

Finally, he snorts. Laughs.

“Don’t worry, I’m not interested." Reaching out, he chucks me under the chin, and to my shame, his touch finishes scrambling my senses. “Don’t get me wrong, Luna, you are … mmm.”

It’s not even a real word, but that “mmm” is my undoing. Because he gives me another slow, appraising gaze. He lingers on my curves, his head tipping back and his eyes darkening. Nobody has ever looked at me like this. Even after I lost weight, no guy has ever stared at me the way Phoenix is doing now—not even Alaric—and it turns my world upside down.

His Adam’s apple dips as he draws away from me, and he ruins my trance with less than ten words. “You’d be a pity fuck at best."

“Well, good thing that is never going to happen,” I reply in as dismissive of a tone as I can muster, but my bottom lip trembles. What he said hurt like hell. “I wouldn’t touch you if my life depended on it because even my pitiful ass has standards.”

His mouth sinks into a scowl. It appears I’ve struck a nerve, which is strangely satisfying. Resting his arms on my desk, he levels me with a hard stare. “You should be careful how you talk to me.” His tone trickles ice down my spine. There’s no humor whatsoever in his voice. No actual emotion that I can detect. It’s cold and harsh.

Dangerous.

This is the real Phoenix. The vicious persona I glimpsed at the party that’s usually masked by a cocky arrogance. I’m more intimidated by him now, and I hesitate for a moment. “You don’t scare me, you know,” I eventually say, and I nearly cringe at my ti

He offers me a hint of a smile, and I can’t help but think of a viper preparing to strike. “You’re playing with the cheap charm bracelet again,” he murmurs. “Because you’re afraid.”

“All right, everyone, let’s finish up those questions before the bell rings,” Mrs. De León calls out, breaking through the tense bubble that’s formed around him and I.

I blink, then peer down at the empty paper sitting on the desk in front of me. We’ve done no work, and I feel a small twinge of panic. His earlier assessment of me is right, after all. I can’t just take the hit to my grades. Every fiber of my being is urging me to do the work, even if it means doing it alone.

Phoenix has realized this as well because that smugness is back to taunt me. “Better get going. You’re going to run out of time.”

I resist a few moments more, praying that he’ll spontaneously combust or something equally as painful and fatal.

In the end, though, I can’t stop myself as I grab my pen and begin to work, saving both our asses as he chuckles in an evil sort of triumph.