Page 19 of The Forbidden Villain
“Nevertheless, all of you need to focus. So stop hunting your prey.” Kane jams a finger in our direction and turns to face Von. “And you quit spying on that guy and write some new music for us. I have the words, but we can’t have new songs without music.”
We stay silent about this because, well…no one discusses the said guy with Von. He goes ballistic if we dare to mention him, so we just don’t.
He’s the one who caused his injury all these years ago, and he wants revenge. I have a strong suspicion he plans to use his enemy’s little sister for the said revenge.
“I have to agree with them, Kane,” he replies and throws the cigarette butt into the bin before fishing inside his pocket for his mint gum. “You start to grate on my nerves as well.”
“Yeah? Well, fuck you too.”
“Instead of spitting bullshit, you should keep quiet and rest your voice for the rehearsal.”
“Children, please.”I repeat Von’s earlier words, and it earns me a death stare from him. “Either way, Kane. You aren’t the leader, so stop telling us what the fuck to do. We know our responsibilities, and our private life has never clashed with the auction night.”
The tension around us slightly eases despite my lie.
Because I have my own plans for the night, and they include the beautiful yet confusing woman inside the library right now.
After all, every hunter knows one crucial thing.
It’s easier to catch prey when you present the perfect bait.
And Lavender will take it.
All princesses have to face the unpleasant truth at some point.
They’re too tempting to resist the likes of me.
And I’m done holding back.
CHAPTER SIX
“Our secrets are our most prized possessions.
Because they hide our deepest pain and nature from those who would never understand us.
After all, secrets shape us into who we are.
As in silence lives truth, and that truth can be deadly.”
Lavender
Lavender
I walk toward my table, my shoes squeaking against the old parquet earning myself several glares on the way.
The spacious, bright library with a domed ceiling consists of long hallways of seemingly endless bookshelves and countless tables spread throughout. Each table has its own lamp and even supplies like pens and paper, allowing students and guests to choose the most comfortable corners to sit and focus on their work without distractions.
Replicas of old paintings with famous quotes are scattered across the walls, beautiful and haunting, almost inviting you to study their artists more deeply, as their art has endured for centuries.
I head toward the librarian’s desk that’s located closer to the ancient mythology section and smile at the girl sitting behind the older-than-life computer, typing something furiously while adjusting her huge and unflattering gray glasses on her nose every other second. “Hey, girl,” I greet her, placing the muffin bag in front of her, and she lifts her gaze to me. “How are you?”
She beams at me, pushing her rolling chair back, and gets up. “Lavender. What are you doing here?” She bites her lip, and she quickly takes out a thick brown planner from her washed-up gray backpack. “Did I mix up my days again? I was sure it was my turn to hold the fort.” She flips through the pages, her brow furrowing, and she sighs. “I’m so sorry, Lavender. I’ll pack my things.”
My heart pangs painfully at the sight of her distress because this particular girl works two part-time jobs while studying hard to keep her scholarship, all the while dealing with some psychological trauma if her constant need to apologize is anything to go by. We’ve met a few times over the past week, and every single time, she found a new way to say sorry, while keeping her stare glued to the floor. Sometimes she speaks so quietly, I have to strain to hear the words.
I put my hand on her arm. “Everything’s okay. I just decided to hang out here today. Don’t worry.”
Her shoulders sag in relief, and she grins at me, her hazel eyes warming up. “Thank God. I’d hate to step on your shoes, so to speak,” she mutters, and points at the bag. “What’s this?”
