Page 265

My thoughts were racing and I forced myself to suppress the memories before they robbed me of my rationality.

I turned back to Miles, who was no longer looking at the professor, but at me. His smile had disappeared and he seemed focused.

Instantly, adrenaline shot through my stomach, turning into an unbearable tingling sensation.

“Please come down and get your work.”

Mrs. Hudgington waved a stack of papers in the air.

She had forgotten me.

Miles walked past me, down the stairs, and someone sat down behind me. His red-haired companion. A Transformed.

They smelled just like Ruisangor, only much weaker.

This time I didn't turn around but cursed myself for having a few empty seats behind me. I knew what that meant. He would sit there.

Couldn't she have planted her pretty ass somewhere else?

“Oh, here's Miss Copeland's work.”

I looked up in disbelief and the professor smiled apologetically in my direction.

“No problem. I'll take it with me,” Miles said quickly, turning his head toward me. Of course that bastard had found back to his annoying grin.

No. He couldn't... He would see my score. Besides, our professor would never...

Mrs. Hudgington smiled at him. “That's very kind of you.”

What the... She just gave him my work? I had to talk to her and explain that Miles and I...

My thoughts spun again as I watched him walk up the stairs. Everything about him seemed elegant, and even though his chin-length hair fell a little messily across his forehead, he looked like a damn angel.

Fortunately, the thought vanished when he raised his head and grinned at me.

He was an angel of death. Ready to drag me down with him.

In front of me, he stopped.

“98 points. Solid performance, Miss Copeland,” he laughed softly, and I straightened my back so I wouldn't look even smaller, because he was standing right next to me.

I snatched the papers from his hand and scanned the last page.

I had passed. With flying colors.

But instead of being happy about it and ignoring the emphasis he put on my last name, I stared at Miles.

Even though I would never admit it, I wanted to know how many points he had scored.

But Miles had already moved on and sat down behind me.

Great.

He could watch me without any trouble, and he would.

Every time I would turn around, it would mean immediate confrontation with things I wanted to stay away from.

Maybe it was for the best. A chance to train my discipline.