vMayhem At Prescott High - C.M. Stunich Page 0,101

on me? Seriously. I thought we were getting somewhere. You told me you were trying to keep my flame from being snuffed out; you said I was incandescent.”

He stares back at me like he’s trying to decipher a complex chemical reaction.

“I think I know why you ran,” I say, and he extends a pale hand, his palm the only part of it that isn’t wrapped in ink.

“Do tell then, Bernadette. Enlighten me on my own motivations.”

“You said you didn’t like that I let them touch me, after everything they’d done. Yet, you did it, too. You made love to me, Oscar. Don’t try to deny that. Trust me: I’ve been fucked plenty of times and that was not what we did.”

He just keeps smirking at me, his expression stoic and distant, very fae-like. Oscar could curdle milk with that stare of his.

“Sometimes men compliment women to get what they want, Bernadette. Don’t be so self-absorbed. As I said, not everything is about you—despite what the others might make you think. The sun doesn’t rise and set on your whim.” Oscar pushes up off the locker and slips out the back door, the same way he went before. That is, most definitely not to class.

I hang back slightly to watch him, curious as to where he’s going.

He ends up leaving through the hole in the fence behind the dumpster, passing by Hael’s Camaro as he stalks across the pavement and down the sidewalk. I keep pace, making sure I keep my eyes out for hiding places, in case he turns around.

He doesn’t.

But he does start to walk faster, to the point where I’m struggling to keep up with his long-legged strides and cursing under my breath. Eventually, I lose him near a busy market and end up having to turn and head back to the high school.

About three blocks later, I feel the barrel of a gun press into the side of my head followed by a very audible click as a hammer is pulled back on a revolver.

“Tsk-tsk, Bernadette,” Oscar says as I freeze in place, my eyes focused on the sidewalk in front of me. People pass by on the opposite side of the street, but nobody looks too closely at what we’re doing. Probably a smart choice on their parts. He grinds the gun in just a bit harder. “I could've blown your brains out; you aren't to follow anyone until I say otherwise.” Oscar withdraws the revolver and tucks it into his suit jacket. I glance his way, still struggling to get my panicked heartbeat under control; on the outside, I stay calm. “I’ll also be informing Victor that you left campus without alerting anyone as to your plans. Understand this is a fundamental safety and training issue that requires immediate resolution.”

“Immediate resolution,” I echo with a snort, turning my head to look at him. He leans one shoulder against the brick wall on his right, crossing his legs at the ankles, arms crossed over his chest. I swear, even with the December breeze, I can smell cinnamon in the air. “You’re not a robot, so stop talking like one. We had messy, weird, awkward sex, Oscar Montauk. Like people sometimes do. Despite your ideas to the contrary, you’re still human.”

“I am not human,” he says, but he doesn’t raise his voice or shift his position at all. That statement is dropped like straight fact. “I have not been human for years. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I am.”

“You’re not human, but yet, you panicked and ran away from me. You’re still too cowardly to talk about it honestly. Fine. Victor said we should define our own relationships.” I shake my head and sigh, turning back toward Prescott High. I can see its brick exterior looming just a few blocks down the way. “I see that for you, a Havoc Girl is just another recruit to boss around and talk down to. Got it. Message received, Oscar.”

I start off down the sidewalk when his long fingers wrap my wrist and yank me hard into the alley. He shoves me back against the brick wall and slams his palms down on either side of my head.

“Stop poking and prodding at me, Bernadette,” he snarls, but clearly, he dragged me in here for a reason. Oscar closes his eyes for a moment, giving me a chance to study his face. He’s furious right now, his skin taut, mouth set in a thin line. But at who, or why,