Reckless Souls (Saints Academy, #1)(34)

other skills I can’t even begin to comprehend.

“I honestly have no idea. I’ve never really interacted with any supernaturals to be able to

understand their traits fully, only what I’m learning in classes like everyone else,” I answer, feeling

the zing of the shots buzzing lightly beneath the surface. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask what she’s

expected to be, but even with the alcohol running through my veins I still can’t decide how rude that

is, so I keep my mouth shut.

Although, she must see the question in my eyes because she offers a grin as she meets my gaze.

“Vampires.”

As simple as that. One word.

I want it to be that easy for me. Having a family background that solidifies the path I should be on

here. I can’t help but notice the glint of pride in Thalia’s eyes. “What are you most excited for?” I ask,

and her grin widens.

“All of it really. But I truly love the idea of having all my senses heightened. Sounds, touch, taste.

I think it will be alluring and liberating.”

My heart beats a little faster from her words, feeling everything she’s describing too, as I wet my

lips. It really does sound enticing. I’m just scared to get my hopes up for anything. As much as I’m

used to disappointment, I want this to feel as magical as it is.

I never in a million years expected this for me, this break, this alternative future I had never

considered, and I don’t want to regret it.

Sensing my thoughts deepening and heading down a non-party friendly path, I decide I need

another drink. Glancing toward Harmonia, I see her and Cassandra making their way toward us.

“I’m going to grab another drink, does anyone else want anything?” I offer, but everyone shakes

their head or tilts their almost full drinks in my direction as the music continues to play around us.

“Awesome, I won’t be long,” I add, before turning and heading toward the drinks table.

The next song plays, and I almost start swaying to it, but I need another couple of shots in me

before that happens. Liquid courage and all. Stopping at the drinks table, I search through the

remaining shot glasses to see if I can find the same flavor, when a hand strokes down my back. The

tingles it elicits aren’t of desire and need, instead, the hairs on the back of my neck rise as I

instinctively get defensive.

I look back over my shoulder to see Hector, the guy who tried to come on to me at the first

Combat class I had. I don’t have a shield between us now, just me and him. What’s more concerning

is the way he stumbles slightly on his feet, his eyes blown and a little manic. I can tell he’s been

hitting the drinks a little harder than me.

Fucking great.

“Hey, beautiful,” he purrs, eyes raking over me from head to toe as he squeezes my hip. I

immediately lift my palm to his chest, forcing him to take a step back, and his hand thankfully drops

from my body.

“I didn’t say you could touch me,” I state calmly, not wanting to make him flip out, not straight

away at least. But I’d love to break his hand or throat punch the arrogant asshole for thinking he has

the right to touch me without consent.

“I didn’t realize I needed your permission to show you how much I appreciate your curves,” he

says, slowly running his tongue across his bottom lip and I cringe.

So. Gross.

“Well, you do,” I respond, turning my attention back to the drinks, hoping he’ll get the hint, but

unfortunately, he doesn’t leave me alone. Instead, he continues to push his luck.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this tight body beneath that uniform of yours,” he says,

capturing a lock of my brown hair between his finger and thumb, and my hands clench at my sides as I

try to contain the irritation starting to thrum through my veins.

It’s official. The guys who attend Saints Academy are disrespectful cuntbags.

Looking up at him, I find his gaze locked on the sweetheart neckline of my skin-tight dress, and I

instantly hate it. But why should I let this guy dictate to me what I should and shouldn’t wear? I’m not

asking him to leer at me, or undress me with his eyes. I’m actually pleading him, with my eyes, to fuck

all the way off, but it seems he’s not interested in doing that.

I lift my arm, knocking it into his so he releases my hair, and the drunken smile on his lips quickly

turns into a frown as he glares down at me. He finally realizes that I’m not fucking around and meets

my eyes in challenge.

“I’m only going to say this once, so I want to make sure you’re listening,” I start, taking a step

back with my arms extended so he doesn’t follow. I wait for a moment to see if there’s an ounce of

clarity in his gaze before strongly emphasizing my message. “Fuck. Off.”

The bite of my tone is harsher than I expected, but I don’t care. He couldn’t take the hint, so being

direct was the only way for him to comprehend in his drunken state. Before he responds, I swipe a