“Isaiah,” Brantley’s warning came into contact with my ears, as did the screeching of the bench as he pushed away from the table, but I still stalked around and glared at Bain who had his chin raised high like some sort of almighty king.
That title actually suited him.
Kings were often insufferable, weak men with too much confidence.
I thought Bain needed to be taken down a few levels, maybe be reminded that he wasn’t a king—not in this school and not in our future line of business.
“You think you can talk to her like that?” Something cold came down over my body as I shut the entire dining hall out. It was just me and Bain, like a cord full of burning, red-hot anger connecting us together. He inched closer to me with a grin so smug on his face I felt myself mirror it. “In front of me?”
Bain’s smile widened. A twitch under his eye caught my attention. He was just as riled up as I was. “You act like you’re someone of importance, Rebel.”
I chuckled, and it was menacing. So menacing that I hardly believed it had come from me. I prowled closer to him, stalking my prey like a lion would its next meal. “I’m certain you know just how important I am, Bain. Don’t fuck with me.”
He knew. He knew who I was. There was no doubt about it, and that meant he knew just how lethal I could be if I let myself. Flashes of gun fire and fists that didn’t belong to me crowded my vision, but I pushed the past away, focusing on him.
“Isaiah.” I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder, and I quickly brushed it off.
There were too many emotions coursing through my veins, sparking the need to expose all my pent-up anger and resentment. I hated my life. I hated my father. I hated Jacobi. I hated most things, in all honesty. But then a voice flickered in the back of my head, making me pause for a split second. Jack. Jack and Gemma. All of your friends, it whispered. You don’t hate them.
Bain’s lips tightened as he took another step toward me. “You don’t scare me, Isaiah. Do you want to know why?”
My fist ached as I planted my feet, and the very second I wound my arm back, ready to punch the smug, arrogant, disrespectful piece of shit in the face, a faint swish of warm-brown hair caught my eye, and then two soft hands wrapped themselves around my cheeks.
Gemma.
Chapter Forty-Three
Gemma
His jaw was like chiseled stone beneath my palms. The feeling was almost jarring as I stood there on tip-toes in the center of the dining hall with every single person staring at me.
“No,” I demanded, bouncing my eyes back and forth between his. They were darker than they normally were. They weren’t their typical airy, light-blue color that I was used to. Instead, they were dark and troubled, and it made my heart crazy.
Once his clenched fist dropped, he instantly wrapped his hands around my wrists. It took everything I had inside of me not to pull my fingers off his face and pull the sleeves of my school blazer down, but I fought it. Isaiah’s hands were large enough that they could wrap around my dainty joints twice if he wanted. No one would see the pink scars.
His words were muffled with a coarseness that rubbed me raw. “He’s disrespecting you. I don’t like it.”
My head shook very briefly. “Maybe. But he’s also baiting you. And I don’t like it.”
I didn’t like it. In fact, it didn’t bother me in the slightest that Bain was pointing out that I was a virgin in front of the entire school. That insult, which I was well aware—even with my inexperience—was an insult to most, didn’t even skim the skin. What bothered me was that Bain was causing a reaction in Isaiah, which gave him pure satisfaction. He wanted Isaiah to snap, and he knew very well that messing with me would cause just that.
Isaiah’s spine straightened, and I felt mine do i
t too. Bain had begun laughing from behind me, and Isaiah’s glare turned murderous. His eyes narrowed; his cheekbones sharpened. I squeezed his face with my hands until he dropped his gaze down to mine again. “Remember the plan, Isaiah. You are on probation. He knows that. He’s trying to get you expelled. You are smarter than this.”
His body seemed to relax just a little. “How do you know how smart I am, Good Girl?”
There it was. My nickname. That hopefully meant I was bringing him back down to the present.
I pushed myself closer to him, not caring who was watching. “Are there members of the SMC in here? Watching what’s unfolding?”
His jaw wiggled beneath my hands. “Yes.”
A smile graced my mouth as I whispered so close to his, “What a perfect opportunity to show them that the bad boy of St. Mary’s is actually taming his wildly hot temper for once. Show them that you deserve to stay here. Prove to them that you’ve changed.”
Isaiah’s hands left my wrists, and I made no move to look to see if my blazer had crept below the shiny, jagged skin. Once he grabbed my waist, the tension in his muscles seemed to lessen. “You think my temper is hot?”
I let out a light laugh as he put his forehead on mine. For a second there, it was like he and I were shielded together in a room that had nothing but thick walls of stone surrounding us. It was just us. “I knew that would distract you.”