Gift chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before finally saying, “How do we start?”
Park squeezed his hand into a fist as he walked, his palm still burning from where he’d touched Gift’s face. He should have never had him in his room. Ever. He didn’t know why he insisted on torturing himself like this night after night. Archer had jokingly called it exposure therapy, as if seeing Gift’s pretty face every day would somehow make resisting him easier instead of harder. But Park had weeks of anecdotal evidence that disproved Archer’s theory.
There were a million reasons why Park needed to avoid Gift. He was young—so young—naive, beyond innocent, a student, the child of two of his best friends…the list went on and on. And there was only one reason why Park couldn’t avoid Gift.
He didn’t fucking want to.
Park had been a selfish prick his whole life. He’d made a vow a long time ago to never worry about pleasing anyone else, to never answer to anyone but himself. And it worked. Being a killer for his country had been the perfect career choice for someone like him. It was a solitary pursuit. And Park just wasn’t fit for other humans.
But then Anchali had shoved Gift into his arms and made him vow to protect him, her baby. Her only child. This sweet, innocent little thing who looked up at him with wide eyes and made him think things so depraved that others might need a shower after hearing them.
Park was a monster. And a masochist. Even though he knew he could never touch Gift, he wanted him close—wanted to look at his face and listen to his voice when he called himhia. Something that shouldn’t have been sexy but was only because it was Gift.
What was the harm? Right? He could look and listen as long as he never touched, never crossed that line. But, tonight, he had. Not on purpose, but that would hardly have mattered had they not been interrupted.
Gift was just…beautiful. There wasn’t a soul who would argue with that assessment. He had these soft cheeks and dimples when he smiled, but he also had these caramel bedroom eyes and bone structure that would make sculptors weep. He was tall and slender and the perfect height to rest his head on Park’s shoulder…or his legs.
Christ.
But it wasn’t just his pretty face that got to Park. There was this…look that Gift saved just for him. The boy would laugh and joke and smile with others, but, sometimes, Park would catch him just staring at him with this intensity that made his dick hard and his heart race.
Whenever caught, Gift would flush, then stammer and run away. It was hot. So hot. It made Park confused and horny and frustrated in a way he’d never experienced before. He wasn’t a man who had ever denied himself something he truly wanted.
And he wanted Gift.
The boy was like some fairy tale fae sent to tempt Park into violating his own boundaries, stirring parts of him that had been dormant for what felt like forever. He shouldn’twantto do the things that came to mind whenever he looked at Gift, and yet, late at night when he was alone… His perverse thoughts would have sent the quiet boy running in terror.
Which was why Park had vowedneverto cross that line.
Park’s pants tightened uncomfortably as he remembered the feel of Gift’s baby-soft cheek under his palm and the startled gasp that had left his slightly parted lips as he’d looked up at him. Just thinking of it had Park wanting to use that line as a jump rope.
Fuck.
Park had to get out of this room. There were too many reminders of Gift, his perfume still hanging in the air. This sort of fruity, floral fragrance that made Park want to bury his face against his neck. He grabbed his room key and headed out the door. There were only so many places for him to go.
While their campus might look like any other college in the country from the inside, from the outside, it was something else entirely. From overhead, one could see this sprawling campus had been built on the shell of a closed military base, and that the entrance and all four corners of the perimeter were monitored by soldiers carrying high-powered assault rifles. To those on the outside, it was clear that there was nothing normal about their school, which was why it was located in a no fly zone.
Park’s footfalls echoed on the tiles as he stormed towards Boone’s office, ignoring the leery looks from the students still lingering in the main hall. When he reached his destination, he didn’t bother knocking, just slammed open the door, earning a startled look from Boone, who was hunched over his desk searching through papers scattered across the messy surface.
Park gave him a disapproving look. “I don’t know how you can work like that,” he snapped, in lieu of a greeting.
Boone arched a brow, giving him a pissy expression, his Southern drawl thicker than usual. “You know, I never miss my mom when you’re around.”
Park glowered at him. He’d known Boone almost as long as he’d known Gift’s parents. It was still hard for Park to believe that the harried man before him, in his tweed jacket and loosened tie, had once been one of the most accomplished assassins to ever live. The notorious Sin Eater, who took out threats in the highest reaches of foreign governments before disappearing without a trace.
Now, he was pushing paper across desks and playing den mother to a gaggle of baby monsters. But then, so was Park, so who was he to judge?
He began to open cabinets around the large space. “Where’s your booze? I know you keep a stash in here somewhere.”
Boone sat back in his chair, chucking his chin towards a double-doored bookcase against the wall. “What did Gift do this time? Shoot another teacher with an arrow? Accidentally trigger a nuclear war?” He covered his mouth in mock horror. “Get an A- on an assignment?”
Boone seemed to take some kind of sick pleasure in torturing Park about his current predicament when it clearly wasn’t funny.
“I hate you,” Park muttered.
Boone threw back his head and laughed. “Now you’re just hurting my feelings.”
Park gave him another withering glance before snagging the bottle, ignoring the glasses to unscrew the cap and pour the bourbon directly into his mouth. Swallowing, he said, “And this has nothing to do with him.”
