Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,169

blades in the back of my throat. “Are you really that deluded?” I ask, chest twisting at the way he’s watching me. Too much. I always give away too much when I’m with him. “You can’t undo what you did!”

“Because I recorded it?” He flings a hand toward those shelves, eyes flashing as he steps forward. “Georgia, that was months ago. You would have buried me if given half a chance. Because shit was different then, and you know it.”

I inch back, heedless of the edge of the door. “I know that you’re the same pathetic, selfish bully you always were, only now you’re older and the stakes are higher.” Even back then, I never would have thought Heston might get to my family through me. It’s beyond sick. It’s beyond betrayal. I’ve been fucked by a lot of guys who wanted nothing to do with me afterward, but it’s never made me feel the way I do now.

Used.

“You’re wrong.” The muscle in the back of his jaw tightens. “That’s what I’m trying to show you. I’ll get the video back and then you’ll see.”

“And then what?!” I cry, throwing my hands up. “You think I’m going to run back to your bed and give you the opportunity to do it again? How stupid do you think I am?”

His eyes zero in on something at my outburst, eyes darkening. He darts forward too fast for me to react, slamming the door and snatching my wrist in one swift, violent move. He wrenches my sleeve up, nose flaring at the wound on my forearm. “What the fuck is this?” he asks, pinning me beneath his stormy gaze.

“None of your business,” I snap, trying to yank my wrist free. “Get off me!”

He clamps on tighter, raising my arm between us. His voice is low and dangerous when he says, “You’re cutting yourself now? What’s the endgame with this, Georgia?”

I tug harder, insisting, “You don’t know anything about it!”

“I know that it’s going to escalate,” he explodes, eyes full of a fire that burns too hot to hold. “I know that you’re keeping whatever you did this with, in case you want to do it again.” He instantly goes for my pocket and I curl back, struggling to duck away.

But not before he digs a hand inside and pulls the shard of glass from it.

I freeze, chest heaving only partly from the skirmish. It looks so much worse like this; him holding the glass in one hand and my wounded arm in the other. It makes me want to lash out again, hit him in the face. He should know what this is. He should understand that it’s not like that.

“You want to be mad at me?” he asks, lips pressed into a bleak line. He puts the shard in my hand, yanking up his own sleeve. “Fine. Take your shot. Hurt me.”

“I don’t get off on hurting people. I’m not like you.” I finally free myself from his grip, biting back a pained noise at the pull of the skin, the sting of the scab re-opening. I hastily cover it up, growling, “You don’t get a say in how I—”

“If you think I’m going to sit by and let you do this, you’re wrong.” His expression is severe, unyielding, and when he goes to take the shard from my palm, I’m too busy fuming to stop him.

I cross my arms instead, hands fisting into my sweater. “Like you can do anything.”

“I’m a teacher,” he says, tossing the glass on the desk. “I can report it.”

Raising my chin, I respond. “Go ahead. I fucking dare you. I’ll tell Collins you’ve been fucking a student.”

He’s silent for a long moment, watching me. “I’ll tell the Devils.”

That pulls me up short, jaw going slack. “What?”

“I’ll tell Vandy, Caroline, Emory. Warren, too.” Shrugging, he adds, “Whatever. I’ll even call my brother.” He braces a palm against the door, caging me in. “If you won’t listen to me, maybe you’ll listen to them.”

Shaking my head, I slide away, resenting that he’s got me trapped in here. “If you think that’ll make anything better, then you’re wrong.”

He slams his palm—hard, loud—into the door. “Then tell me what the fuck will make you stop doing this!”

Thrusting a finger at the desk, I wail, “Sign the goddamn form, Heston!”

He gives me a slow blink, like maybe he wasn’t expecting the way my voice cracks, or how badly I’m shaking. Slowly, he pushes away from the door, reaching for the paper