My Eros (Sub Rosa Secret Society) Page 6

  You like that?

  He pinches my nipples yet again, and I can only gasp and shudder.

  Tell me you like it.

  I barely manage to shake my head, but this only makes the god's chest rumble behind me in silent mirth.

  Grrrr.

  A human's feelings is one of the few things in this world that gods have no power over, and so I know I only have myself to blame for the way my body is reacting to every touch of his fingers. This god is too good, dammit. Too, too good, and when he suddenly spins me around—-

  Control yourself, Halyna!

  But my body might as well be a separate entity all on its own, with the way every inch of me melts the moment his mouth replaces one of his hands, and his lips immediately fasten to my breast.

  Aaaaah!

  His tongue slowly laves around one pouting nipple, and a frenzy of sensations strikes every burning cell of my body. The way this god is making me go out of my mind with need is too much, and I'm not ready for it.

  "Please let go—-" I hit his shoulders as I try pushing him away, but he doesn't even budge, and the words only make him start sucking on my nipple, and oh sweet merciful Greek heavens...

  Too much, it's just too, too much pleasure—-

  I watch dazedly as my fingers uncurl from his shoulders...in order to start combing through the ash-blond locks of his hair...until they end up clutching his head to my breast.

  His tongue lashes against my nipple over and over, and my head eventually falls back as jolts of pleasure electrify my flesh. His mouth moves to my other breast, and my body starts to writhe.

  Shameless, I'm so shameless.

  The realization is mortifying, but it doesn't make the pleasure fade. Instead, it only intensifies, and when I feel the god scraping my nipple with his teeth just as his hand squeezes my other breast hard, the pleasure coursing through my veins reaches its zenith—-

  Oooooooooooh—-

  And I start to cum, for the very first time in my life.

  Chapter Eight

  My knee is back to working order the next day, but I sadly can't say the same for the rest of my body. I've been awake since five in the morning, and I've already spent almost an entire hour under the shower, but it hasn't done anything to cool me down...every time I think of my last wet dream of the...god.

  I almost used the word 'beast' for a second there to be honest, but I tell myself it's time to get real and accustom myself to certain facts like—

  One: A god wants me here, and so I am.

  Two: Same god has also been doing his damned best to turn me into a pervert, and I'll...need to figure out what to do with that at some point in time, but for now we'll have to move on because—-

  Three: If I don't get my ass out of the infirmary in thirty minutes, I'll be late on my first "official" day as a student of Rosethorne School.

  The paper bag Nia's brought over from our suite contains several plastic-wrapped parcels: a messenger bag with the school's logo etched into its leather body, a pair of black Mary Janes, and a complete set of my uniform: a plaid blouse with contrast Peter Pan collars and cuffs, a dark-colored skirt, and a pair of thigh-high socks.

  Keia isn't around when I get my discharge slip, and once I'm outside the infirmary, I find myself immediately disconcerted. It's my first time to see the private roads of Rosethorne to be buzzing with activity. There are students everywhere, walking, laughing, chatting, and...practically all of them turn to stare at me as I stride briskly past them, but not for the reason I imagined.

  The good news: none of them seem to care about my appearance, and I'm thinking it's probably because everyone here's quite the looker. Then again, since everyone here is divinely "curated", I guess that part isn't much of a surprise.

  As for the more-weird-than-bad news: none of them even care to be subtle as they whisper about me, and all I'm hearing is how Professor Luscious did this or that with me, and it's making me feel more bewildered than offended.

  Uh...alleged mass murderer here, hello?

  I'm supposed to have killed over a dozen people, and yet all they care about is my two-legged medium of transportation to the infirmary?

  Whatever.

  It's just been one surreal thing after another since I came here, and I think it's time to accept the truth. Nothing is normal in Rosethorne, and when I finally get to Anise Building, my first glimpse of the classrooms in it only further proves my point. Chandeliers in the ceilings and antique writing desks with matching velvet cushioned chairs. How is that typical in any way?

  Practically everyone in the classroom turns in my direction, but since I'm the new and tough Halyna now, I simply toss my hair over my shoulder so they know their jealous little scowls are nothing to me.

  The only vacant seats left are on the front row, but I don't mind taking this. Creaturae, my first class, is the study of Old World creatures, and it's one of the few Post-3rd subjects that I'm genuinely interested in. Quite possibly, this class might be one of the rare silver linings of studying in Rosethorne...or so I stupidly think until I see everyone suddenly sit up just as Professor Luscious - I mean, Lucious - comes striding in.

  Shit.

  I can hear the other girls giggling and sighing as he stands before us like a beautifully sculpted statue come to life. He's immaculately dressed as always: white buttoned-down shirt with sleeves pushed up to his elbows, black pants, and buckled leather shoes. Understated elegance at its finest, really...that one would be forgiven to forget what a colossal jerk the professor is.

  The professor doesn't even meet my gaze as he abruptly starts his lecture, and soon enough I also find myself momentarily forgetting his hatefully dazzling good looks as he launches into an in-depth discussion of shapeshifting.

  Several hands shoot up when he asks for someone to do a recap of shapeshifting abilities for the quasi-divine, and the professor eventually picks the boy seated next to me to answer his question.

  "Quasis can only shift into the form of their kindred animal, and all primary traits and characteristics shall remain the same in either form. If the quasi is male, then his kindred animal will also be male. If the quasi's kindred animal is a chameleon, then the quasi shall also be able to somewhat alter its physical appearance even in human form."

  I barely manage to keep my jaw from dropping at this, but all around me I see the other kids simply nodding like this is the gospel truth they've been enlightened with since birth. In my former school, Creaturae lessons were criminally rudimental. Who's the goddess of wisdom? Where was her original seat of power? Jeopardy $100 questions basically while here in Rosethorne—-

  "Today, we're going to talk about demigods," the professor says. "As most of you should know by now, a demigod will inherit the kindred animal that his or her divine parent can shift into. In some cases, however, a demigod may also be able to shift into a secondary kindred animal, but this will require great skill and energy. Full-blooded gods, on the other hand...has anyone read up in advance about this?"

  If this class were an episode for Jeopardy, the question would've been reserved for All-Star goats, and yet the moment the professor finishes speaking, hands shoot back up in the air as an impressive number of students readily vie for his attention.

  The professor gestures to someone at the back, and I barely manage to keep myself from grimacing when I see a brown-haired beauty flashing a sultry smile at his direction.

  "Gods are kindred to all creatures, and so they can shift into any animal known to them."

  "Exactly."

  I look down at my notebook and scowl. I could've known that, too, dammit. But because I came to this place two weeks late, it's all I can do to read and catch up with everyone's progress.

  Several more rounds of graded recitation follow before the professor asks us to draw a shapeshifting chart for all three divine classes. When I see everyone pulling their drawers open, I do the same...and oh my Lord, is there no end to how surreal things are here?

  Instead o
f pens and pencils, Rosethorne has us back in the Dark Ages, and for one moment I can only stare blankly at the assortment of quills and ink bottles neatly arranged in a drawer tray.

  "Anything wrong, Ms. Mariposa?"

  The professor's cool voice startles me, and I'm stunned to find him suddenly standing in front of my desk.

  "Do you need any help?"

  "Nope." That's completely pride talking, but whatever. Seeing that other students are giving their bottles a shake before uncapping them, I unthinkingly do the same...and end up having the whole thing burst out and sticky black ink splatter all over my face.

  The whole class laughs, but I'm more annoyed with myself than humiliated. As fancy as Rosethorne is on the outside, high school is still high school, and I should've remembered that pranks are part of the standard initiation for new girls in school.

  "Ms. Mariposa..."

  It's the professor, offering me his silk handkerchief.

  Here we go again, I can't help thinking. The professor coming to my rescue like some dashing knight when we both know his armor is all but tainted. My first instinct is to refuse him, but then an idea occurs to me, and before I know it, I'm already lifting my face to his—-

  Outraged gasps fill the room as I ask in the sweetest voice I can muster—-

  "Could you clean it up for me, Professor?"

  One, two, three seconds pass, and then the professor's dark gaze gleams in a way that almost makes me shiver. It's that gleam again. The one that makes me feel like I'm indeed an intriguing little thing to him...and nothing else. It's enough to make me hesitate and wonder if I've been too hasty by asking for his help, but before I can figure out my next move, I hear the professor say in a mockingly gentle voice, "It shall be my pleasure."

  I can practically hear the girls gritting their teeth as the professor slowly wipes the ink from my face, and as his gaze never wavers from mine, I work hard to keep myself still. It's fine with me for the whole class to think I'm flirting with the professor, but it's another thing entirely for the professor to believe the same thing.

  I need to make it clear to the professor that I'm just using him to piss the other girls off...but then I feel his fingers brush over the corner of my lips, and it's all over for me. My body trembles as my breath becomes uneven, and I can feel my cheeks heating up as I watch the professor's lips slowly curve in a smirk.

  Shit.

  The professor uses his thumb for one last final sweep on my cheek. "There," he says ever so softly. "All clean now." He sounds unbelievably gentle, but in his eyes I only see the same cold amusement.

  It terrifies me a little, but because everyone's still looking at us, I just bat my lashes at him and say throatily, "Thank you, professor."

  I think I hear girls actually snarling like rabid dogs this time, and it's enough to make me forget what a jerk the professor is. For now, I'm just going to enjoy my little victory, and enjoy it I do as I find myself actually relishing the hostile scowls and glowers that the other girls shoot my way.

  Why has no one ever told me being bad can be so much fun?

  Come lunchtime - or as it's called here in Rosethorne, ora gia gévma - it's pretty clear that just about everyone knows of my tête à tête with the professor. While news always travels fast, and bad news travel even faster, it's the scandalous ones that travel the fastest, and what can be more scandalous than Rosethorne's most eligible professor falling for a student...who was once accused of mass murder?

  Nia is actually grinning as she waves at me, and I can't help but laugh as I join my roommate at her table.

  "I hear you just made the majority of Rosethorne's female population hate you this morning," she says excitedly. "Congratulations. I'm so proud of you."

  "Uh...thanks." Since this is Nia, I'm pretty sure she means it, and she truly thinks an increasing enemy count is a person's source of pride.

  "However..."

  I'm in the middle of puncturing a hole into my juice pack when I hear Nia speak in a warning tone, and I look at her with a frown. "What?"

  "Aren't you worried about your anonymous benefactor?"

  "My what?"

  "The divine being who made you come here," she elaborates under her breath.

  Oh.

  "Why should I be worried?"

  "Uh...duh?"

  I'm still confused. "I really don't get it."

  Nia rolls her eyes at me. "Divine beings are the most jealous and possessive creatures ever, and you

  just publicly flirted with a good-looking human," she points out. "It's not exactly something that will make your god or demigod say 'good job', is it?"

  Chapter Nine

  I didn't think things through.

  Okay?

  So there.

  I've admitted it.

  My pettiness got the better of me this morning, and now that Nia's reminded me of how gods can be just as petty, I find myself secretly fretting over it for the rest of the day. I feel like I've voluntarily placed my head on the chopping block, and dread fills me every time I think of falling asleep.

  Mr. Beast-Turned-God has the power to strike me down any moment, and the fact that he hasn't makes me think he's deliberately torturing me with the long wait.

  Time crawls past me, and my anxiety worsens as the divine axe refuses to fall. A part of me wants to believe this only means I'm probably making a mountain out of a molehill, but there's the other side of me that keeps thinking back to my biological parents' fated death. I refuse to believe that genetics has doomed me to follow in their footsteps, and even if it were...

  I sit up in bed and grab my phone to check the time.

  A quarter to midnight, mm...

  That should mean fewer students would be out of their residence buildings, and that's exactly what I need. If Halyna is to continue looking after Halyna, why should I just wait here in my room like a good little girl? It's time I take matters in my own hands. I'll...I'll look for Mr. Beast-Turned-God and argue my case like my life depends on it. Well, actually, it really does depend on it, so...

  I've just finished throwing a knitted sweater over my turtleneck, and I'm about to tiptoe out of the room when Nia stirs in her bed, asking sleepily, "Where are you going?"

  "I'm just taking a walk," I hear myself lie.

  My roommate mumbles something incoherent, and I only start moving again when I see her pulling the covers back up.

  The air outside Dark Rose House is chilly, and it has me walking far more briskly than usual as I head towards the labyrinth. Since it's where I first bumped into the god, I figure it's as good a place as any to look for him again. I know it's a long shot, but since I can't think of any other way to contact the divine, it's not like I have any other choice.

  Once inside the labyrinth, the skies somehow seem darker, and the stars far fewer than they seemed earlier. But when I glance down, the grass that covers the ground is still dewy soft and so lushly green it's almost as if summer isn't about to end.

  Magic is definitely at work here, and it makes me wonder rather foolishly if maybe, just maybe this means I can get away by doing something completely clichéd? What if I holler out something like, 'Hello? Are you there, god? It's me, Halyna?'

  I've got nothing to lose anyway, so...

  I take a deep breath, but as soon as my lips part, a creaking noise shatters the silence of the night, and I end up gaping at the sight of one of the labyrinth's ten-foot-walls starting to move on its own.

  What in Greek heavens...

  A dark entryway gradually reveals itself, and I'm not sure what comes over me, but I end up scrambling to dive down and hide behind the bushes while my heart starts hammering against my chest.

  Rose thorns scratch my skin, but I'm too nervous and just a little petrified to care about a little sting. I've been told by Ms. Roo herself that Rosethorne's security is top-notch. Students can always expect to be safe from outside harm, and no one with ill intent is supposedly able to get past the school gates. That's all well
and good, of course, but...can I still count on Rosethorne if the danger is already within its walls?

  It's something I'd rather not have the need to find out, to be honest, but it also seems like I have no choice. The wind has started to howl, and I can't help but wonder if it's because the wind gods have the same fear lurking inside of them. There's still no sign of movement coming from the secret entryway, and it has me gnawing uncertainly on my lip as I consider making a run for it.

  Secret doorways are rarely a good thing in the Post-3rd world, and my heart now feels like it's about to explode. I think I'm going to make a run for it. I'm just going to get up and run and—-ah!

  It feels like I've been stabbed, and I find myself hurriedly covering my mouth as a cry threatens to slip out. I'm not even sure if I've caught it in time, but I find myself too hurt and bewildered to care as I watch the professor step out from the entryway...with Isabella following shortly behind him.

  An inexplicable sensation squeezes my chest as I watch the professor offer his hand to help Isabella climb out, and the sensation sharpens when the other woman kneels down and bows her head to press her lips over his knuckles.

  The walls slide close behind them silently while Isabella's lips linger on the professor's hand. The nicks and scratches I've gotten from getting pricked by rose thorns are nothing compared to the sensation that's now strangling my heart. The truth of what I'm feeling finally dawns on me, and although it's something I absolutely hate, I just don't see any point in lying to myself.

  I'm jealous.

  I've never been jealous before, but I know I can't be mistaken. It's the green-eyed monster inside of me, and it shows no signs of settling down even as I watch the professor finally pull his hand free.

  "Go," I hear the professor murmur, and Isabella bows yet again before turning to walk away. She takes a look at him over her shoulder, but the professor has already turned his back on her, and his gaze is seemingly scanning his surroundings...