My Eros (Sub Rosa Secret Society) Page 5

  Keia clears her throat, and as Dr. Foames turns to her, the redhead says with a smile, "How very thoughtful of you to come rushing here for just one student, Isabella."

  "It's my job to care about students," Dr. Foames says rather defensively.

  "I know that," Keia says cheerfully. "I just didn't think you did."

  "That's not a nice joke—-"

  Keia's eyes widen. "My apologies. Did I sound like I was joking?"

  To say that I'm fascinated with this exchange is an understatement, but before Dr. Foames can answer back, the professor proves to be a killjoy with one curtly spoken word. "Enough."

  Keia immediately throws her hands up. "Of course, boss."

  Boss?

  Dr. Foames is also as quick to comply, and she does so by turning to me once again with a fake smile. "How did this happen, my dear?"

  "You already know the answer to that," the professor snaps.

  Dr. Foames stiffens. "I assure you, I have no idea—-"

  "You have her file, Isabella."

  The professor's voice is ominously soft even to my own ears, but it's how he's using my file to put Dr. Foames on the spot like that which unsettles me. It's unfortunate but expected for a guidance counselor to have access to my records, but Professor Lucious?

  The only way he'd know about my bad knee is if he's read the police report on my case, and I don't understand why either Agatha or Rosethorne would let him do that. There's obviously more than what meets the eye with him, but one thing I can be sure of: the professor is definitely not someone I can afford to piss off, and the way Dr. Foames is currently stammering in his presence just drives the point home.

  "I'm s-sorry, I didn't mean to—-"

  The professor bites out something in Greek, and although it's a little too fast for me to follow, it's gotta be bad with the way the older woman hurriedly snaps her mouth shut.

  "This is the only warning you'll get from me." The words are enough to make Dr. Foames visibly whiten, but the professor's expression remains harsh, and his tone icily caustic. "Are we clear on this?"

  The other woman all but chokes as she answers yes. I almost feel flattered by this protective side of the professor, and I'm even close to thinking he might not be as big a jerk as I originally imagined except—-

  "Your jealousy is unbecoming for someone in your position, not to mention unnecessary."

  —-for that.

  He's just said her jealousy was unnecessary, and I'm not sure how to take that.

  "I won't deny I find her intriguing, but you know how I am. How I've always been."

  When I see Keia glance at me uneasily, I know right away that whatever else the professor has to say is likely going to hurt—-

  "Ms. Mariposa is sure to bore me sooner or later, and when that happens, I shall move on to the next intriguing little thing."

  Chapter Six

  "Un-fucking-real."

  I've just finished giving a near blow-by-blow account of what happened this morning, and my roommate, whose visit is both a puzzling but pleasant surprise, is now looking at me with great interest.

  "Professor Luscious—-"

  I can't help choking at the term she uses, and my roommate smirks. "It's what everyone calls him, and while he's not my type, I do see why you guys would find him attractive."

  "I do not find him—-"

  "Oh yes, you so do," the other girl retorts. "I can see right through you, and it's so obvious you have the hots for him."

  "I do not!"

  "The lady doth protest too much—-"

  "Well, this lady liked you better when you weren't talking to her."

  But this only makes my roommate laugh. "Anyway...what I wanted to point out earlier, before I was so rudely interrupted by a certain lady in denial—-"

  I can't help rolling my eyes. I am not in denial. Really!

  "The professor's notorious for not having any personal interest in students. There are countless horror stories about how he's shamed all of those girls who tried throwing themselves at him, but the one I find most ridiculous and hilarious is when this girl...she was two years ahead of me, if I recall correctly. But anyway, this girl had this oh-so-bright idea of deliberately cutting her finger open—-"

  The words are a little too visceral for me, and I find myself wincing as I imagine this faceless girl slicing her flesh open with a knife.

  "—-and then running to the professor to ask for his help."

  "This was in class?"

  "Uh huh. And guess what he did?"

  "He helped her?"

  My roommate flashes an evil grin. "The professor gave her detention for interrupting his lecture, and as added punishment, the girl wasn't allowed to seek medical attention until his class ended."

  I try gauging if my roommate was just pulling my leg, but she only raises an eyebrow at me like she's asking if I wanted more proof of the professor's disinterest in his students' personal welfare.

  "He really did that?" I ask faintly.

  "Professor Luscious may be the sexiest man alive in this school, but don't let his looks deceive you—-"

  "I'm not," I say, and rather defensively, I admit, but that's a problem to tackle for another day. "I just have a hard time believing the school would allow him to get away—-"

  "He is the school, duh."

  This time, I can only look at my roommate blankly. "What do you mean?"

  The other girl sighs. "His family owns Rosethorne. That's what I mean. His grandfather is actually the Chairman of the Board, but since the entire Lucious family is scattered in Europe, the professor has taken the role of acting chairman on his grandfather's behalf."

  Which means he has all the power in this school, I interpret silently, and that's why he could also own private property within the campus.

  "But what about the girl's parents?" I can't help asking. "Didn't she even think to tell her parents—-"

  My roommate rolls her eyes. "And risk being expelled from the only school in the state that can directly guarantee employment with the divine?"

  Shit.

  The other girl's eyes narrow. "You really don't know anything about Rosethorne, do you?"

  I shake my head, seeing no point denying the undeniable.

  "Well, fuck." A look of consternation crosses my roommate's features, and she starts chewing on her lip while looking at me like I'm a Gordon knot she's determined to untangle.

  I cross my arms over my chest and just spit the whole thing out. "I'm not supposed to be here, aren't I?"

  A moment passes before the other girl says finally, "It's the opposite, actually."

  "How so?"

  "All of the students here, myself included, come from families that have been doing business with the divine since the beginning of Post-3rd. You can't study here if your name hasn't been personally vouched for by a demigod—-"

  "But I don't know any demigods," I protest.

  "Then it's the other way around," my roommate says. "There's a demigod who knows you, and whoever that is wants you here in Rosethorne."

  My first instinct is to tell her she's insane, but...the more I think about it, the more it makes horrifying sense. I've wondered why a school like Rosethorne wants someone like me in the first place, and now I have my answer.

  "You don't have to look so worried," the other girl says. "Think about it this way. Once Isabella figures out the same thing, she's sure to leave you alone—-"

  "But what if she has her own demigod supporting her?"

  "Of course, she doesn't—-" My roommate pauses. "Riiiight. I keep forgetting how little you know about Rosethorne."

  "Which means...what exactly?"

  "Isabella isn't human," she says simply. "Well, not completely anyway. Her mother is a full-blooded nymph, her father is human, which then makes Isabella a half-blood nymph and thus without any of the usual divine powers or abilities." The other girl's voice lowers. "I personally think it's why she's hoping to marry the professor. She's going to live
a really long life after all, so she only has to wait until the professor dies a mortal death, and then she can live happily ever after with his money...or at least that was the plan until you came along."

  "Me?"

  "Yes, you."

  "But Dr. Foames hasn't anything to worry—-" The sound of my roommate's chortling cuts me off.

  "Titles like doctors and professors are a very human thing," the other girl says, "and it's just so weird and funny at the same time when you hear it being used for people like Isabella. It's like...giving Shrek a title. Can you just imagine? Dr. Shrek?"

  I can't help laughing myself, now having seen my roommate's point. When she puts it that way, it does seem silly to still insist on calling a nymph like Isabella with a human title.

  "Isabella then," I agree to correct myself. "I don't understand why Isabella has to think I'm still competition when the professor made it so clear that I'll eventually bore him."

  "But did he really mean it, do you think? Maybe he was just saying those things to get Isabella off your back. She can be a bit of a jealous psycho, believe me."

  I slowly shake my head. "I think he meant it."

  "Actions speak louder than words," the other girl reminds me, "and the professor actually cared enough to carry you in his arms! I'm pretty sure Isabella would want to kill you just for that—-"

  "You can try sounding a little less cheerful about the prospect," I grumble.

  But my roommate only waves her hand in airy dismissal. "Oh, relax. Nothing's going to happen. Once Isabella realizes you've got a demigod backing you, I doubt she'd have the balls to cause trouble for you in any way."

  "But what if you're wrong, and there's no demigod—-"

  "If it's not a demigod, then even better. Maybe it's even a full-blooded god secretly backing you up! I mean, look. I've always been straight with you, so let me just be real here, too. The only reason I even knew about you being here in the clinic is because Professor Luscious told me to check on you and bring this."

  My roommate grabs the paper bag from the floor and gives it a little shake to make her point, but I barely notice it.

  "Professor Lucious really asked you to come over? For me?"

  The other girl groans. "That's not the point I want you to focus on, dude. What I'm saying here is that I would never have bothered to come if the professor hadn't asked me to, and I certainly wouldn't have bothered choosing to stay longer than necessary."

  "So why did you?" I ask blankly.

  My roommate's lips curve in a sly grin. "Because of what you told me, duh. My guts tell me that you've got someone divinely powerful in your corner. There's no way anyone can bully you out of Rosethorne now, so congratulations, dude. You've just gotten yourself a new friend. Call me Nia, and can I call you Hales?"

  Chapter Seven

  Nia stays long enough to have dinner with me before leaving, and after that a nurse makes sure I take my second painkiller for the night. I was hoping it would be enough to knock me out, but it's already half past one, and sleep is still the furthest thing from my mind.

  There are just too many thoughts running in my head, and the more I fret over them, the more I'm starting to realize that I've jumped from the frying pan of my old school and straight into this scary, beautiful fire called Rosethorne.

  Now that I supposedly have someone divine working in my corner, Nia thinks I no longer have anything to worry about, but I'm scared it's the opposite. If what she said is true, then I have everything to worry about since mythology is filled with stories of how fickle and petty gods can be. They're gods, but they're not God, and they can be so destructively vengeful when they feel they've been slighted.

  I may not know much about the doings of gods today, but I've read everything I can of their Old World stories, and from what I remember, gods only favor those who have been loyal to them from the start. Since I'm certainly not that...why would a demigod be interested in me? A favor given will always need to be a favor returned one way or another, and when I think of what I may be asked to pay for said favor...

  It has me tossing and turning, tossing and turning, tossing and turning until I find myself slowly floating down into a world of night skies and stars. I'm befuddled at first, but it lasts only for a moment, and then the truth simply dawns on me.

  One: I must be dreaming again because—-

  Two: I'm naked, and—-

  Three: If I happen to be naked in my dream, then that only means one thing.

  Shit!

  Not again!

  I whirl around, and a beast as ferocious as it is familiar is staring back at me with eyes of gold and blue. It's resting on its haunches, and its very stillness somehow makes it even more powerful and intimidating. No ordinary creature can be so still. But then...there isn't anything ordinary about it, is there?

  A demigod, or maybe even a full-blooded god, wanted you here.

  That's what Nia said earlier, and now it's become so perfectly clear.

  "You made Rosethorne take me in," I say unevenly. "Didn't you?"

  Yes.

  The beast hasn't even opened its mouth, but I can understand it somehow, like it's spelling its thoughts out to me. And of course, the only reason that's possible is because the beast is not actually a beast...and it's time I make myself face this.

  "Are you a demigod?"

  It takes all of my courage to utter the words, but I end up needing even more courage when the beast purrs out its answer in my mind.

  Do I feel like one to you?

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I can see you understand what I mean.

  I briefly consider denying this, but it's because I do understand what the beast means that I see no point to it. The beast before me is divine alright, but it's no demigod like I feared. Instead, it's worse...because this beast is a full-fledged god, and that just means I'm absolutely fucked.

  I can sense something is wrong.

  Is that a joke? Of course something's wrong! He's a god, and—-

  Is it your knee? Is it paining you?

  The questions make me stiffen in a mixture of shock and wariness. "How do you know about my knee?" Actually...why does it seem like everyone in this school already know about my stupid knee? The thing's never even made it to the news—-

  I know everything about you.

  And just like that I go from distracted to unnerved. My instincts tell me he's only speaking the truth. This god does know everything about me, and so it only begs the question—-

  "Why do you want me here?"

  Do you really not know?

  I shake my head.

  I am a man first, a god second.

  What is this beast saying?

  And I want what every man wants from a woman.

  Stunned isn't even enough to describe the state what I'm in, and I can only stumble back as I mentally grapple with his words. Did I just hear what I just heard?

  You doubt me, do you not?

  "Enjoy talking like Yoda, do you not?"

  It's a top-notch comeback, if I do say so myself, but as soon as the words are out, I'm kicking myself in the head and wondering if perhaps stupidity is genetic.

  I've never wanted to follow in my biological parents' footsteps and die a fated death. Never. So what the hell has come over me five seconds ago that I'd say something as incredibly asinine as—-

  Whoa.

  What's that weird rumbling sound I'm hearing in my mind?

  My gaze flies back to the beast, and the gleam in its gold-and-blue eyes pretty much confirms it.

  The beast - I mean, god, I need to start thinking it's a god now - the god is actually laughing!

  A god with an actual sense of humor.

  Who would've imagined such a thing's—-

  SHIT.

  My eyes feel like they're about to pop out as I watch the god transform out of its bestial form, and he does it oh so slowly, too—-

  So, so slowly that it's almost as if the beast is taunting me to deny th
e obvious, and shit, shit, shit, I need to be out of here, never mind if here is a dream world of star-dotted skies, and I don't actually have any idea how to escape it.

  I just know I need to put as much distance between us as possible, but the moment I spin around, I already feel strong fingers circling my wrist—-

  Shiiiiit!

  I try twisting away just as his head dips down, and my body jerks in shock when I feel his mouth latch to the side of my neck. The god is a beast no longer. He's a man now, and one who seems fully intent in driving me crazy as he starts sucking on my neck.

  No, no, no!

  I can almost feel him laughing at me, like he finds it amusing how I'm struggling but failing to resist him. It incenses me, of course. It makes me want to slap him so bad that I'm this close to ignoring everything I know about fated deaths and just going for it. But...

  How can I when his mouth is so, so good at what he does?

  Heat consumes me every time his mouth touches my skin, and when I feel his arms start to move, all I can do is squeeze my eyes shut in helpless anticipation—-

  Aaaaaah!

  His hands are once again kneading my breasts, harder and more passionately than he did in our first dream, and I'm lost.

  A cry spills past my lips, and I can only gaze shakily down at his bent head as he continues to mark my neck with his mouth and fondle my breasts with his large, strong hands. His hair, it's the same shade as the fur of his bestial form, and they look so temptingly soft I want to run my fingers through his platinum blond locks.

  It's stupid and shameful, but when I suddenly feel his mouth gently easing off my neck, I actually have to bite back the words of protest. Why has he stopped—-

  Ooooooh.

  His fingers have suddenly changed course, and another cry escapes me as my nipples enjoy a man's caress for the very first time. He's tweaking and rolling the sensitive buds between his thumb and forefinger, and he's not being gentle at all about it. Instead, he's doing it with just the right amount of roughness, and when he suddenly pinches my nipples, I also feel his breath caress my ear at the same time as the god spells out a question in my mind—-