Chapter 8

~ Sylara's POV ~

"What the hell did you just say?" he countered, his voice flat, as if he hadn't processed the venom in my question. In that instant, I was hit by a wave of crushing regret. 

What right did I have to demand an explanation for who he fucked? I was nobody to him, a one-night fling from Cabo.

I regretted it, but it was too late to take my words back, so I cleared my throat and asked again. "Who is she to you? Your fuck-mate?" I could feel my heartbeat as those words came out from my mouth.

He stared at me.

God! He was doing it again—staring at me with those unreadable almond eyes of his. I couldn't tell what was going on in his head, but when he stood up from his seat, I was certain my heart skipped a beat.

He was hot.

He was pure, lethal heat. Forty or not, he was the most criminally hot man I had ever seen.

As he walked toward me, I felt an automatic, pathetic need to step backward. I might crave him, but I couldn't deny the raw, primal fear he ignited in me.

He had a dangerous, palpable aura circulating around him. If someone walked up and told me he was a mafia boss with countless blood on his hands, I wouldn't argue. But then again, he was my professor.

My wickedly hot, devilishly seductive professor.

He kept walking toward me, and I kept retreating until my spine slammed against the solid wood of the door. He towered over me, his enormous height and broad build swallowing the space between us.

The intoxicating scent of lavender and musk filled my lungs, making my core clench and quiver with anticipation for his touch.

I tried desperately to look away, but I couldn't. My gaze was trapped on him, moving from his mesmerizing eyes to the sharp plane of his nose, then sliding down to his mouth.

Fuck. I wanted to devour those lips, to kiss the living hell out of him until neither of us could breathe.

He then gently trailed one large, calloused finger across my cheekbone. His fingertip moved from my jaw to my throat, then traveled lower, resting with deliberate weight on the swell of my breast.

My heart pounded violently as his warm hand slowly, agonizingly, descended from my chest to my belly button.

"Do you really want to know who Thalia is, Sylara?" he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that settled in my gut. As he spoke, his hand returned to my breast, cupping it fully and giving it a deliberate, gentle squeeze.

"Professor," I moaned softly, biting my lower lip. One touch from him was all it could take for me to surrender myself to him. He was like my favourite candy that I couldn't resist.

With a sudden, dominating motion, his fingers moved to my inner thigh and pushed my legs apart. He lowered his head, pressing his mouth to my neck.

I shut my eyes tight, the rush of his hot breath against my skin dizzying. "Thalia is my fuck-mate," he stated, the words a low rumble before he pressed his mouth harder against my skin, deliberately sucking to leave a definite hickey on my vulnerable neck.

"You can be my fuck-mate as well," he added, and that's when I opened my eyes.

Fuck-mate?

Did he just say I should become one of his fuck-mates? What in God's name does he think of me? Someone like Thalia he could have sex with whenever he feels like it?

Yesterday he had kicked me out of his office like a whore, and today he wants me to sign up to be his designated sex toy?

He tried to kiss my neck again, but I didn't let him. He was huge, but I managed to push him away, my eyes burning in anger as I stared at him.

"Seriously?! You want me to be your fuck-mate?" I didn't bother hiding the disgust or the fury. I wanted him to see my anger, but he simply gave me a chilling, unreadable look before a mocking chuckle escaped his lips.

He mocked my words.

"Weren't you the one demanding to know why I was fucking Thalia? Why are you suddenly so worked up about being offered the same privilege?" he asked, without a trace of apology or remorse for his brutal proposal.

"I only asked! That doesn't mean I want to be used like that! How dare you suggest that to me?!" I yelled, fighting back tears of humiliation and rage. I didn't know exactly what I wanted from him, but I knew it was something deeply personal, far beyond being a mere 'fuck-mate.'

"What were you expecting I'd offer you, Sylara? You're just a random girl I had rough, anonymous sex with in Cabo," he said bluntly.

He was doing it again—hurting me with his words, and I was just his foolish victim.

"Is that how you see me?" I whimpered.

"Yes," he answered, taking a step closer. "If you want a repeat of what happened that night… and I know you do. You were exceptional in bed. We can do it now. Should we fuck?" he whispered, his body heat enveloping me.

I'd craved a repeat of Cabo, ached for it, but not when he viewed me as nothing more than a convenient, irresponsible student who spread her legs on demand.

Despite the electric pull he had on my body, I shoved him away one final time. "I am not Thalia!" I snarled, turning and storming out of his office as quickly as my shaking legs would carry me.

As if my day couldn't get more toxic, Lisa and her minions cornered me in the hallway.

"What exactly is your relationship with Professor Nicholas?" Lisa demanded, her tone sharp and territorial.

"I don't have any relationship with him." I tried to maneuver around her, but she yanked my arm back.

"Just a little reminder, Lara. I own this campus, and I hate when trash like you puts an eye on what belongs to me. Stay away from Professor Nicholas and you won't have a problem graduating," she threatened.

I ripped my arm from her grasp and faced her, meeting her gaze head-on. "I'm not scared of you, Lisa. And as for Professor Nicholas? You can go ahead and suck his dick, because I don't give a single fuck about either of you." I intentionally knocked my shoulder hard against hers as I walked past her.

Professor Nicholas wasn't the man I'd thought he'd be. He was a cold, calculated jerk and a heartbreaker. The problem was entirely me… I needed to purge the memory of Cabo from my system.

But damn it! His touch always had a way of giving me the Nick effect. He has an effect on me and I won't deny that… but if I want to live for a long time, I need to push him out of my thoughts.

I was doing fine with meaningless sex from Alfred before I knew a certain man like him existed. I needed to go back to being the girl who never allowed her life to revolve around a man.

Just as I stepped into my classroom, I received a notification on my phone. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, and when I scrolled down, it was a message from him.

My brows furrowed.

How in God's name did he get my number?

When I opened the message, it wasn't a threat or another insulting proposition. It was a comprehensive breakdown of every difficult topic I had struggled with in Statistics, written out and explained in simple terms.

Just as I wondered why he went through all this trouble when he only considered me a one-night slut, he sent another message.

"I broke down everything in a way you can understand. Go through it and let me know the specific areas you still find difficult. I don't want you to fail… Sylara."

A small, genuine smile tugged at my lips as I imagined his deep, commanding voice saying those words.

"What are you grinning about?" Ashley asked out of nowhere, but it snapped me back to reality.

Why the hell was I smiling when he had bluntly asked me to be his fuck-mate without caring how I'd feel?

Who the hell was Professor Nicholas, and why was he confusing me like this?