CHAPTER 8

JAX

"Not important." Jax shrugged his shoulder, giving them his most charming smile. "See you later."

He excused them to their classes and proceeded to his. Stiles went to the med school building, and Deacon and Rebecca, who were in business school, went to that building.

The walk to his first class was constantly interrupted by students and teachers who hailed him, talked to him, wanted as much of his attention as they could get.

They were sponges, sucking on and soaking up his words and smiles and empty compliments just so they'd get bigger and more bloated.

Although he didn't usually mind, their constant din was exacerbating the headache he had woken up with today.

Sleep escaped him for the better part of last night, and when he did sleep, he dreamt he was with a man wearing a skeleton mask and gold serpents wrapping his hand around his dick and tightening to the edge of pain.

He remembered thinking he wasn't attracted to men.

And his vein-covered hand on his dick shouldn't be getting it so hard it's leaking precum.

But then he was jerking him off, hard, until it hurt—the way he wanted but never had.

And he grunted, in the nightmare, going to come, but then he was pushing a pillow over his head and suffocating him to death.

He woke up in a sweat and with another damn hard-on.

Thank God Rebe stormed into his bedroom and poured a bucket of ice water over him in jest—effectively killing the tent—or they would have had a problem.

The headache was getting worse despite the painkillers he was taking. His hand injury was still aching and his jaw hurt so much, eating was impossible, so he had coffee and a strawberry for breakfast.

This was one of those days when he wished he hadn't chosen overachiever, A+ student as his mask, because every single person was pissing him the fuck off.

The second he walked into the lecture hall, he was again surrounded by his classmates, like they were bees and he was damn fucking honey. They were all buzzing and talking nonstop around him the second he took a seat, and he just wanted them to shut the fuck up already. All of their talking was making his head ache even more.

Where were you last night, Zex?" some dude Jax couldn't remember his own name said.

A brunette slid in beside him, shoving her tits against his arm. Skye. Jax only remembered because he'd fucked her a few times and she always brought one of her friends along to join in. A booty call of sorts.

She grinned up at him, her mouth too big for her pretty face, and the lack of symmetry bugged him. "I thought we'd have one of those fun study nights."

Fun, as in he'd fuck her and her friend while they pretended to kiss and lick each other's pussies to turn him on.

It never really worked.

He only got hard on demand.

Aside from last night, a demon chimed in from the shadows, and Jax was about to gag him bondage style.

Jax smiled and shifted slightly away. "Next time, beautiful." She blushed but still didn't remove her tits and even ground them up and down his arm, and Jax wanted to snap her damn neck.

He didn't typically get this testy about people touching him. Yeah, he hated it, but he could generally cover it so well, no one would ever know.

Right now, however, he had to struggle not to push her away. He raised his thumb to his mouth, barely lifted it at the corner, then dropped it back down when his phone buzzed on the table.

Labelle

Hi, handsome

Would you look at that. His brother's former fuck buddy, who sucked his dick just to continue chasing after him.

She was more than willing to ride his dick as well, but Jax just so happened to draw the line at hole-sharing with his brother. It'd be nice to play with him, however. Pretty sure he had a girl he'd been following at the local Royal Elite University. Now, if both she and Labelle could make initiation, how fun would that be?

Not as enjoyable as Od'en and Sofia—the latter of whom will not decline an invite if given one—but close enough.

While the others still hummed around him, Jax replied to Labelle.

Jax

Hi, beautiful. Miss you.

Labelle

Not as much as I do. I get so wet at night thinking about your huge cock and I have to use this toy I bought. It's not as big as you, though pouting GIF

Ew.

You're killing me. I'm getting hard in class.

Nope. His dick was deader than a corpse, actually.

Yum.

Listen. Do you know that there's that initiation coming up, right? Want to join?

OMG, really?

What a tool. She must think Jax was a simp who's drooling over her and can be exploited by her at her convenience. As a point of fact, Labelle had been giving hints about the initiation for a while. Only a moron wouldn't pick up on her blatant attempts to get invited.

Seriously. Tell you what, I'll even protect you and see you to the finish line. How does that sound?

Sounds good! You're a lifesaver.

Don't go stating the obvious now.

"…what do you think, Zex?"

Jax lifted his head at Skye's voice—who was still rubbing her tits all over him.

The shirt will be burned later.

"Depends, really," Jax said, even though he had no clue what the hell they were talking about.

"I mean, he has a great reputation." One of the guys, Meyers, picked up the conversation. "And since criminal law is an important part of the core curriculum, this will be fun."

"Heard he's hot as fuck," a girl chimed in. "I call dibs." "Get in line," her friend said.

"I'm the one who shared the information about him first," Skye protested.

Ah. The professor.

Jax swore to fuck he lost brain cells whenever he listened to them gossip.

Whomever this professor was, they'd fall under his spell like the rest of them. Jax was charming, smart, and an A+ student, which was porn for professors. But, like, professionally.

None of his classmates even tried to beat him in marks anymore. Not even Tira Titan, Skye's friend and the only one who was now talking about the Professor's good reputation instead of how hot he was.

Tira, like the others, found out she'll never be at Jax's level. What was effortless for him was what she and the others could accomplish if they studied day and night. There was shuffling as a tall, muscular guy walked into the class. People moved to their seat, and the girls arguing over dibs screamed.

"He's drop-dead gorgeous," one of them whispered.

"Lock us up, Your Honor," said the other, and they giggled like schoolgirls.

Damn hormonal college kids.

Jax wrenched his gaze back to the prof and ceased.

Since he was looking at him.

Of all the individuals in the entire lecture hall, his gray, dead, and completely unnerving eyes were trained on Jax.

His skin crawled and his wound throbbed.

Before he even spoke, before he opened his mouth and Jax confirmed his suspicion, a deep premonition slashed through his skin and his demons roared in their pit, devouring each other alive.

His dead gaze remained on Jax as he said, "Hello, class. My name is Ethan Mikason, and I'm your criminal law professor."

Ethan Mikason.

That was the name of the motherfucker who used Jax's mouth to get off last night.

The man who pointed a gun at him, shot him in the hand, and called him grotesque, a whore, and a useful hole, among other things.

The asshole who humiliated him like no one else has.

Jax woke up today hell-bent on revenge, on finding him and making him bleed. He had considered offering a deal to Sofia, where he gave him an invitation to the initiation and he gave him the name of this motherfucker.

But that's no longer necessary.

For the bastard was looking at him.

And Jax was finally putting a face to the voice of the man he'd been having dreams about stabbing a thousand times.

A sharp, pointed jaw, quietly commanding features, and jet black hair cut close at the sides but long enough on top to be brushed back with ruthless precision. His wide, chiseled mouth was pressed into a chilly, uninterested line as though he was discovering this entire ordeal boring. A soft stubble scraped his cheeks, contributing to the ruggedness of his subdued demeanor.

But what truly betrayed him the instant Jax set eyes on him?

The eyes. Still lifeless and hollow, as if they'd seen too much, felt too little. The darkest hue of a storm, rolling, brewing, and gaining strength with no intention on ever calming down. His tailor-made slacks were the same shade as his eyes, and the white shirt stretched across his chest, clinging to the unyielding planes of muscle, every inch of it strained across his body. The fabric tightened around his biceps that flexed and rolled with each move like when he fucked Jax's mouth.

When he pulled Jax's hair, bashed his head into his groin, and fired down his throat. He was now standing in front of Jax as his criminal law professor.

Professor. Not a bodyguard as Jax had thought.

A damn professor.

What was a goddamn professor doing in the HARK's mansion? With a gun, with Sofia's mask on, and getting a student to kneel?

The class seemed to draw a collective breath at his introduction, the air thick with the weight of his presence. Everyone seemed rooted, drawn in by the sheer force of him—his commanding, magnetic energy filling every corner of the hall.

Even Jax was affected, and he was usually immune to the pull of other people's auras. "Welcome to criminal law." He employed the same low, even tone that made Jax's skin crawl. "This is not a course in theory or broad principles; this is studying the very foundation of justice in society. In this course, we will learn how the law separates right from wrong, but more importantly, how it punishes the wrongs."

Was this bastard hearing a word he was saying? How was he able to talk about punishing wrongs with a straight face after what he'd done?

"Gosh, he sounds so hot." Skye trailed her red nails down Jax's arm as she whispered in his ear, and this time he was going to move away.

Or he'd slam her head onto the desk for not stopping touching him.

The prof's eyes flicked to Jax for a brief second, and he glared back.

"You, over there." He jerked his chin toward Jax. "It appears you've mistaken this classroom for a social gathering. While I'm sure your friend is an honored recipient of your interest, I suggest you remind yourself of where you are. This is a room for rigorous intellectual pursuit, not a venue for you to parade your schoolboy charms.".