Chapter four: Snared
857 Words
Myla’s POV
History class was boring as usual. My eyes kept flicking to the clock, counting down the minutes.
A yawn slipped past my lips, and I nearly dropped my head on the desk to steal a quick nap…until he walked in.
He waltzed in like the prince of Rome, like the world belonged to him.
Late. Unbothered. And the professor didn’t so much as blink.
Fucking nepotism.
I snapped my gaze away, pretending he wasn’t here. Pretending my insides weren’t coiling, my body begging—aching—to be near him.
But then his intoxicating scent wrapped around me, dragging me under, and the next thing I knew, he dropped into the seat beside me.
Don’t look.
Don’t look.
Don’t—
My neck betrayed me, turning before I could stop it. My breath hitched—he was too close.
I hated the way my heart raced. I scowled, forcing myself to face the professor, sucking in slow breaths to calm the storm inside me.
“Hello,” he said softly, leaning back like he had all the time in the world. “Didn’t expect to see you again.”
I ignored him.
Why couldn’t he just not talk to me?
And why, traitor that I am, did some ridiculous part of me want him to?
“Still haven’t told me your name, you know,” he pressed.
Silence.
“So you’re just gonna pretend you can’t hear me?” His chuckle was low, teasing.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, it’s you again. Doesn’t that just make my day?” My voice dripped with sarcasm.
“I love it when girls play hard to get.” He smirked.
“You wish.” I scoffed.
“Any girl would throw herself at me. You’re not an exception.” He shrugged, smug.
“Then why don’t you go find one of them and leave me the hell alone, you arrogant ass?”
“Me? Arrogant?” He tilted his head, almost amused. “I’ve been nothing but nice. You’re the one being unnecessarily rude.”
I shook my head, exhaling hard. “One universe. Eight planets. Seven seas. Seven continents. 809 islands. 196 countries. About eight billion people—and I had the misfortune of meeting you.” I rubbed my forehead, like just sitting beside him was draining.
“Why do you hate me so much? Am I ugly? Do you hate my face?” he asked, mock-serious.
I turned slowly, leveled my glare at him, and said, “Here’s the problem with your face—I can see it.”
Before he could fire back, a sharp voice cut through the tension.
“Mr. Rutledge. Miss Blythe.”
I froze.
The professor stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, eyes narrowed like he’d been watching us the whole time. My stomach dropped.
“If the two of you are quite done with your little… chat, perhaps we can continue with today’s lesson?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks as a few students snickered. Kyle only leaned back in his chair, that infuriating smirk still tugging at his lips.
“Of course, professor,” he drawled smoothly, like he hadn’t just been driving me insane.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes at him.
Kyle’s POV
After school, I went after her. I needed to speak with her.
I didn’t quite understand her attitude. Could she really not like me? Impossible. No woman resists me—not for long. I mean, look at me. Mirrors practically weep when I walk past.
She’s just playing hard to get. Cute.
“Miss Blythe?” I called.
She was sitting in the same spot as before, waiting for the bus.
“Can you not call me that?” she sighed.
I smiled, not expecting an immediate response. “I would—if you just told me your name.”
“I’m not interested.” She stood quickly and started walking away.
I caught up in seconds. “Wait.”
Before she could react, I gently but firmly steered her into a quiet corner, hidden from view.
Her heartbeat thundered…yes, I could hear it. She looked up at me with wide eyes, fear and something else flickering there.
“Relax, princess. I’m not going to hurt you,” I murmured, my breath brushing her lips.
“What do you want?” she whispered, breathless.
I smirked inwardly. She could deny me all she wanted but her body betrayed her. She felt it too.
I traced a finger under her chin. She gasped. That sound… goddess, it went straight to my chest.
Her scent crashed into me, rich and intoxicating—the scent of my mate. Not her cheap perfume.
I bent closer, unable to stop myself, pressing my nose against the curve of her neck. It hit me like a drug. Addictive. Irresistible.
A growl rumbled from my chest before I could swallow it.
“What are you doing? Stop—” she tried to push me away, but my restraint snapped.
My canines slid free, sharp and aching.
And goddess help me… I didn’t want to stop.
- Writer
