AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The thick curtain of mahogany hair hanging over her shoulder is the only ounce of darkness to the Marchetti girl. So unlike her oldest brother, Nicolo Marchetti. So unlike me. We’re creatures of the night, born and raised for blood, pain, and killing. But Silvia seems utterly impervious to her family name, a naive little princess high in her fairy-tale castle.
A curvaceous blonde stands several feet above her on the steps leading into the art building. The girl’s smile matches Silvia’s. A guy stands with them, on the same stair as Silvia. His expressions are animated as he talks, matching the lively color of his hair.
I walk slowly, my reluctance making the effort to join them that much harder.
Then, as the guy ends his story, he puts his hand on Silvia’s elbow. Whatever humorous thing got said, he clearly thinks is an excuse to get closer to her. As he grips her arm, he leans in close–far to close for my comfort–removing the distance between them as he doubles over in laughter.
Possessive anger, driven by my irritation about having to be in this fucking city at all, rockets through my veins.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demand, stomping up the steps to cut between Silvia and the guy.
His eyes widen, making him look almost cartoonish between his shocked expression and the brilliantly purple-blue hair covering his head. I grab the guy’s shirt and am rewarded by the sound of ripping fabric.
“Pyotr!” Silvia gasps behind me.
“Haven’t you heard? Silvia Marchetti’s off-limits, fuck face. Don’t eventhinkabout touching her. She’s mine, so keep your grubby fucking fingers to yourself.”
The guy’s lips part as if he’s about to say something. And a flicker of humor crosses his face.
“Think I’m joking?” I growl, my voice rising as I jerk him off balance.
The amusement drains from his face along with the color, but I’m not done with him. Make a statement; that’s what my mother wants. Well, fine. I need to let off some steam anyhow.
Keeping ahold of his shirt, I clench my fist and swing, catching his jaw with a right hook. Silvia screams as my punch sends the guy flying down the steps.
From the corner of my eye, I see her blonde friend’s horror as she claps her hands over her mouth. The blonde stumbles backward up the steps to put distance between us. That only makes me smile.
Then I turn to the purple-haired guy lying flat on his back. His lip’s already swelling where I hit him, and blood stains his teeth.
“How about now? Still think something’s funny?” I demand as I descend the two steps to stand over him.
The guy scrambles back in panic.
“Pyotr!” Silvia shouts again.
Light footsteps patter down the stone stairs as she races to put herself between the guy I punched and me. Her face is livid, fire crackling in her eyes that I haven’t seen before. I’d caught a flicker of it that first day of school when I’d insulted Rosehill. But mostly, the girl seems too timid, too shy, and too demure to have much fight in her.
But finally, it seems I’ve woken the sleeping princess.
3
SILVIA
“What iswrongwith you?” I demand, shoving Pyotr as hard as I can to get him to back off.
But he’s a solid wall of strength and muscle, barely budging at my attempt.
“Nobody touches what’s mine without my permission,” he growls, glaring daggers down at poor Travis. Then his steel eyes shift to me. “You’re my betrothed. You should know better than to be talking to other men.”
Fiery rebellion makes my nostrils flare. “Excuse me?” I demand. “Travis is my friend andclassmate. We were talking about an assignment, for god’s sake. You can’t just forbid me to speak to someone because their gender doesn’t suit you.”
“The hell I can’t,” he hisses, standing his ground as I get in his face.
A whiff of his apple and birch cologne tempts me to distraction, sending a shiver down my spine, though I refuse to acknowledge it. I hate confrontation. But that seems to be what it will take to keep Travis out of harm’s way.
“What, are you going to just lock me up in some tower where no one can ever speak to me again? It’s the twenty-first century, Pyotr, and I’m here to learn, which means I need to interact with classmates.Youneed to get a grip.”
“It didn’t look like a conversation about classwork to me,” he snaps, his expression livid. “He was practically drooling over you.”
