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He leans forward. I instinctively jerk back, which I realize was a mistake because it makes his eyes glint with satisfaction.
Bracing his palms on the table, he leans over it so that his lethally handsome face is closer to mine. That psychopath smile of his plays over his lips as he cocks his head.
“Are you sure you want to find out, little doe?”
My heart is suddenly racing, and I find myself drawing in shallow breaths while several answers to that question swirl in my head. Most of them very stupid.
I glance down at the knife still in Kaden’s hand, now pinned between his palm and the metal tabletop, and I remember the way my pulse jumped when he placed that against my throat the other day. My thighs clench again.
Fuck, what am I doing? There is only one answer to that question. There has to be.
I drop my gaze. “No.”
Even though I’m no longer looking at his face, I can hear the smirk in his voice when he replies, “Then get to it.”
Metal scrapes against concrete as I push the chair back and stand up. It’s shockingly loud in the still unnaturally silent room.
I cast a quick glance towards the doors, hoping against hope that my brothers or cousins will walk through. But there are still a few minutes left of class, so I know that no one is coming to save me.
After grabbing another tray, I place a plate of cod and potatoes on it, along with utensils and a glass of water. Then I turn around and look for the dictatorial psycho.
He is sitting at the same table that the Hunter brothers always occupy, but he is not facing the table. Instead, he has moved his chair so that he is facing the empty space beside the table. And he is watching me with an unreadable mask on his face. The other people in the cafeteria have started eating again, but they’re still watching the show in silence.
Keeping my spine straight, I walk up to Kaden’s table and set the tray down in front of him a bit more forcefully than strictly necessary, rattling the utensils.
Kaden flicks a disinterested glance at it before meeting my gaze again.
“No,” he says.
My brows furrow in genuine confusion.
“Offer it to me,” he elaborates.
Irritation flickers through me. He must somehow be able to read that on my face, because his gaze sharpens. He has slid his knife back into its sheath, but I have no doubt that he is about to pull it out again if I don’t get a move on, so I blow out a sharp breath and pick up the tray again. Lifting it from the table, I hold it out to him instead.
He gives me a highly unimpressed once-over.
My fingers tighten on the tray, and I clench my jaw in annoyance.
“What?” I ask, barely managing to keep from growling the word.
Kaden leans back in his chair and spreads his legs, the picture of a smug prince of hell lounging on his throne. Then he shoots a pointed look at the floor.
I blink, my gaze darting between his face, the concrete floor, and the other people in the cafeteria.
No way. He’s not going to make me kneel on the floor between his legs with people watching.
I snap my gaze back up to his face.
He arches an expectant brow.
Fuck.
I briefly consider whether shoving the plate in his face would work, but quickly decide against it. If I do that, he would probably kill me right here in the canteen. Witnesses be damned.
Kaden clicks his tongue. And it’s incredible how such a faint sound can convey so much disappointment. My pulse speeds up.
Since I don’t want to find out what Kaden does when he is disappointed, I quickly start lowering myself to my knees while desperately trying to ignore the fact that people are staring. It’s terribly difficult, though, because whispers suddenly buzz through the whole room.
