Chapter 7
Octavia
“You can’t avoid me forever, princess,” the psycho murmurs at my side.
“Do not call me that,” I reply crisply, keeping my voice low to avoid expulsion before breakfast.
Between this Russian lunatic and that Colombian menace, I am perilously close to losing my sanity.
“Why are you in such a foul temper?” he drawls. “Did you miss me? Because I bloody did. At times, it was difficult to breathe at all… but now that I see you, I find I finally can.”
I lift my gaze to him and narrow my eyes. “There is something seriously wrong with you.”
He merely blows me a kiss.
I take him in discreetly, because I would rather die than let him catch me checking him out, which, just to be absolutely clear, I am not.
He is tall, irritatingly so, somewhere around six three to my five two.
His hair is a dark chocolate shade, wavy rather than straight, not long but falling just to his ears, and messy, but not in a way that looks dishevelled.
And then there are his eyes. Those icy blue eyes. It is genuinely a pity that such a beautiful colour was given to him. He doesn’t deserve it.
He is built, muscular, and his tattooed hands are veined and improperly large. I am almost certain one of his palms is the size of my entire head.
The ink is visible above the collar of his hoodie, creeping up his neck. The work itself is exceptional, which feels, again, like a terrible waste.
He keeps his eyes forward, but the longer I look at himdiscreetly, his knowing smirk deepens, and I turn my head away so fast it makes me light headed.
We reach the bottom of the stairs and he’s still walking right beside me, so I let out a breath and turn to face him.
“Disappear,” I say calmly. “I have more than one blade strapped to my body, Markev, and I am very close to using one. This time, straight through your heart.” I finish with what I hope looks like a mean smirk.
His smile only widens. He looks pleased, as though I have just whispered something sweet into his ear rather than threatened his life.
“Baby girl,” he says lightly. “Dying by your hand would have been a dream of mine.” He pauses, his eyes bright with something unsettling. “But not anymore. I have decided I want to live… for you. And unfortunately for both of us, that means I can’t let you kill me.” His smile deepens. “No one else gets what’s mine.”
My jaw clenches. The nicknames change every time he opens his damn mouth, and each new one makes me consider slitting his throat, not to mention he just called mehis.
No one owns me, least of all this bastardo.
I stalk away without another word, forcing my legs to move.
I feel him fall into step behind me.
Again.
I grit my teeth and continue towards my first class.
He stays right at my back, so close that I can almost feel the heat coming off him, when he suddenly asks, “Where’s my car?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply without looking at him.
I can hear the smirk in his voice.
“I bet you don’t.” He pauses, then adds, “That car,” he says lightly, “I shot Isaak for thinking he could drive it. Didn’t aim forthe shoulder either. He spent weeks in hospital, and the Pakhan, to put it mildly, was furious.”
I don’t respond.
