Page 42 of Wicked Knight

With one last scan of my body, he turns and walks away, leaving the wall to hold me up.

The black smoke swallows him, then he's gone.

The heat of his touch and the remnants of pleasure are still alive inside me, rising in my veins like a tsunami.

God. I’ve pushed myself deeper into that black hole of conflict.

I feel like I’ve been dragged into a Greek tragedy and Dmitri just became my Hades.

Except I’m not Persephone. She fought to see the light of day again. But me?

I don’t want to leave the Underworld.

I want to stay wrapped in the darkness of my captor.

And be his.

That is my weakness.

Chapter Nine

Dmitri

I’m sitting next to Kade and the guys on the second row of the colosseum-style conference hall we use for student meetings.

We’re among the students who have gathered for the welcome back assembly.

There are at least two thousand students here, but to me, it could just me and her. Just like we were at the club—with the exception of the people beyond the walls fucking.

Mackenzie is sitting at the end of the row across from me. Today, she’s dressed in a mini pleated skirt and a fitted sweater that shows off the deep V of her cleavage.

I can’t stop looking at her.

I have to wonder if she wore that outfit to torment me. Then again, it wouldn’t matter what she wore today; I’d still be obsessing over her.

The other night, I had to hold back again. This time because I didn’t want to take her in the hallway of a club. I didn’t want our first time to be in a public place where I didn’t have her to myself. I don’t want to share her in any capacity.

When I have her, I want her moans of pleasure and cries of ecstasy to belong to me. That said, I’m cursing myself now for not doing it.

We’ve been sitting here for the last twenty minutes waiting for the hall to fill up, and I’ve been going crazy, my fucking dick aching in my pants to be inside her.

All I can think of is how she tasted and how she felt in my arms, unraveling at my touch.

She’s been glancing at me, too. But at least she’s being more careful than me because my father is on the platform below.

At the moment, his attention is focused on talking to Professors Seymour and Volkova, the head of the law and math schools. Like many of the teachers here, they all went to school together.

There aren’t that many teachers and officials in the Knights—including Aleksander Ivanov—who didn’t go to school with my parents.

We’ve reached that point in history where generations past and present have begun to meet.

My gaze drifts back to Mackenzie, and I catch her looking at me.

Tomorrow is Friday. I’ll get to see her then, after football training.

I plan to continue what we started at the club.

Worry riddles those sea-green eyes of hers the longer we stare at each other, smothering the confidence she usually exudes.