Page 41 of Pink Ink

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“Why are you being so insistent?”

He scowls, stepping forward and invading my senses with his intoxicating presence. “Because you are so adamant that your safety is meaningless. Someone needs to make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

Gone is the crappy, nonchalant exterior he tried fooling me with. The irritation is rolling off him, and I fucking love it. He’s fighting meforme. My professor genuinely cares.

“And that someone is you?” My words lack the tenacity I’ve been wielding for the past five minutes.

“Yes.” He takes one more step forward. I take one back. The tremor returns to my hands, and the stupid fuzzy feeling in my stomach goes completely haywire. “That someone isme, your fuckingprofessor.” He says the last few words like he hates them. It turns my blood molten and my pulse skyrocketing. “Do not fight me on this, Miss Sinaga. My patience has scarcely been present, and my tolerance for disobedience is even more rare. You have no idea who you’re taunting.”

I can’t speak. Can’t move.

Too much is flaring behind his eyes. Frustration, anger, want,heat. Things that he shouldn’t be feeling.

Goose bumps rain over my flesh. Maddox’s harsh breath fans my face; it trickles through the strands of my hair and kisses my warm skin in the softest caress. Molten desire floods through me and turns my senses into a live wire. Every sensation feels forbidden. This close, I could lean forward on my tiptoes and brush my lips against his. Icould run my fingers through his hair and feel the roll of his muscles against my skin.

These are not thoughts thatIshould be having. He’s my professor, for God’s sake, and I didn’t move across the country to screw my damn teacher.

The glint in his eyes frightens me at the same time it lures me closer. The greens in them brighten the way nature’s most deadly plants would. It’s feral and predatory, the type of deranged that could kill within the span of a heartbeat, and devour in less. I commit the sight to memory, letting our ragged breaths fill the searing space between us.

I break the spell before I’m forever trapped. Swallowing, I keep our eyes locked as I move for the door, saying under my breath, “Have a good evening, Mr. Shaw.”

One of us should. That’s not in the cards for me anymore.

MADDOX

She likes my art.

That’s the only thought that has gone through my head for the past three days.

She likes my art.

When I was eighteen, a member of the British royal family commissioned a painting. At twenty-four, I had a four-page spread inVoguefor my creations. Not a single one of those things, individually or combined, amounts to the rush I felt when Reyna complimented me.

She thinks I’mtalented.

My mind is in disarray because of a student and her sinful lips. Which is possibly the worst thing I could think of when amongst Order members. It’s made me feel like prey in this pit full of vipers. If there were ever a place that I needed to be ready to kill—both figuratively and literally—it would be here.

My eyes drop to the ornate wooden floors, and I debate counting the grains. The high saint of House Dornmont stands at the center of the room, surrounded by pews full of people in long black cloaks. The six blocks radiate out from the center, a section for each of the houses.

House Shaw—mine, regrettably.

House Dornmont—my fiancée’s, unfortunately.

House Hopkins—hate those fuckers. It’s basically a glorified frat house right now.

House Sutherland—where my vote is going.

House Ellis—painfully boring, yet incredibly efficient. The traits of acceptable leaders, I suppose.

House Ortiz—highly respectable and unproblematic. Again, boring for my tastes.

The room is fashioned in a way that acolytes sit behind the houses they affiliate with.

They don’t need to vote for the high saint of their house. At the end of every election cycle, once the high saints for the following years have been chosen, they can move to a different house, should they choose.

The grand magistrate sits on a platform along the outskirts of the room to symbolize his superiority andall-seeingpower. Regardless of which house an acolyte pledges themselves to, we all serve him.