Never lie to yourself about your own feelings.
Aurora’s POV
His low voice makes my body tremble even more. My heart races, and the pulse thunders in my head. All I see is his face, so close that I can see the shadow of his lashes on his cheekbones. His scent pierces me like needles, slowly tearing through my veins and breaking into my blood. It's as if orphans are rushing through my body.
God.
He's looking at me, silently waiting for an answer. His gaze slides over my face, slowly, with pain in his gray eyes. The silver is there again, mixing with the color of storm clouds. Shades clash with shades – a half-tone of gray and silver. It's as if one is the same, but in reality, they are completely different.
His gaze makes me flush, cold and hot at the same time. There's no one feeling – both are at maximum, forcing me to press my back against the cold wood to increase the distance. But he doesn't allow it. The moment I try to step back even a millimeter, Alexander moves closer.
"I'm not trembling," I cut in stubbornly.
"You are trembling. You're shaking," he says.
His voice becomes husky, leaving me breathless. I can taste winter on my tongue, and my skin prickles with frost. I never thought one tone could make me freeze.
His gaze stops on my lips. I bite my lower lip harder, as if hiding. Alex freezes, not moving, his hands leaning on the shelf above my head, trapping me.
God, has the beast hunted down its prey?
It seems he penetrates under my skin merely with his eyes, slowly, with hellish agony. Piercing through me with blades, tearing me apart. To the pain. To the silent scream.
I lick my lips.
Alex's eyes darken rapidly. He inches closer by another millimeter. It's still not enough – this distance is completely insignificant.
I'm shaking now, physically shaken to dark circles before my eyes. My brain shuts down. Psychology takes a backseat. There's only him and his eyes. Him and his voice. Him and his shirt unbuttoned at the neck, revealing his Adam's apple and a part of his collarbone. Bad thoughts come to mind, and I push them away.
What the...? It shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't be licking my lips and breathing in his cold scent. I shouldn't. I shouldn't.
I can't. I can't switch my consciousness to something else. I remind myself of a computer with a system failure. Error. Mistake. Try again.
Now my eyes fall on his lips – such thin, pressed into a line. Alexander's jaw is tense. He is completely tense, like a string that if plucked, will snap.
I lick my dry lips again. There's a fire in my mouth. My pulse beats like a drum in my body.
I don't like this. It's scary. Now it's really scary because my reaction to him is abnormal. Sick. Broken. Wrong.
His gaze is bitter, painful – just like his presence.
Books slip from my hands, and the sound pulls us back into reality. Alexander recoils from me as if he himself didn't realize what he was doing so close to the orphan he hates.
Deep breath. Exhale. Repeat.
Yes. Go away. Let me breathe.
Alex steps back and looks at me with disgust, as if I caught him in a trap, as if I made him feel something he can't wash off now.
He grimaces, coldly and disdainfully inspecting me.
"At the end of the week, there's a meeting of the prefects and their assistants," he snaps sharply, with ice in his voice. "You have to be there."
I nod at him and quickly crouch down to gather the books. And then I flee, dashing to the exit of the library as though he's flying at my back.
"At six, Orphan. I hope you have a watch."
I burst into the hallway and run to my room. I'm sure that today I won't be able to focus on psychology.
***
By the end of the week, I'm a nervous wreck. Constantly on edge. I feel like Alexander is going to throw a party in my honor at the prefects' meeting, and it's not going to be pleasant. It's more like dancing on my own grave.
Only David can distract me from this, at least for a little while. He tells funny stories about learning to ride a horse and offers me a chance to try it, but I still refuse. I don't even know why. And he always brings Snickers, which I love. I have no idea how he gets them, considering we're in a remote area, but I'm not complaining.
When five o'clock on Friday arrives, I start pacing around the room, adjusting my skirt nonstop. Dashia and Asya are out for a walk, so I can finally show some weakness without putting on a brave face. With them, I must maintain a polished façade. It's not that I lack trust—we've grown close through shared moments. Yet, cloaking my vulnerabilities seems like the easy way out. At six sharp, reality snaps back into focus.I glance at the clock and can't believe I'm late. I was so nervous for an hour that I missed the start of six.
Alexander will definitely want to replace me as his assistant, and he'll have plenty of reasons to argue. And me... God, what if they kick me out of here?
I grab a notebook and pen from the bed and rush out into the hallway. It's quiet, as everyone's outside enjoying the last rays of sunlight. I quickly make my way to the prefects' room, trying not to imagine Alexander's punishment.
I turn into one of the corridors and bump into someone. The notebook and pen fly out of my hands, and I apologize. As I crouch down to pick them up, I'm surprised to see who it is. Of course, it couldn't be David – he's at the stables. It couldn't be anyone else. It's that annoying Alexander.
"I hope you were hurrying to the prefects' meeting," he asks sarcastically, his voice dripping with sweetness.
Alexander leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks perfect in his tailored school uniform, which makes me feel queasy.
"What do you think? Yes!" I huff.
Why does my body start shaking the moment I see him? It's as if I have some kind of enchanted reaction to him. I look into his silver eyes, which are now mocking me, and I tremble. Alexander notices and enjoys it.
"I said at six, Orphan," he continues. "Do you want me to gift you a watch?"
"Gift yourself a conscience!" I retort.
I bend down to pick up the pen, but Alexander steps on it.
"How rude. If the boarding school didn't teach you manners, maybe I should? What do you say?"
"What do you want?" I retort, not caring about the pen.
His gray eyes darken, and his lips curl into a barely noticeable smile, but I can sense the threat behind it.
Alexander quickly steps forward and pins me against the wall.
"The meeting," I murmur, losing my breath. "The prefects..."
"I know," he says quietly, his voice laced with metallic notes.
Suddenly, the world has shrunk to the size of the distance between us, filled with pure hatred and fear.
"You know, I'm not the bastard, Bagirova, between the two of us. I have family; they love me. You have nothing. You came into this world abandoned, and you will die the same way."
I gasp at his words, at the malice that resonates within them. I can only feel hatred – sick, wrong, fractured hatred. As if part of his emotions is passing onto me.
"You think your family loves you?" I hiss. "Alex, who are you lying to, yourself? Because you cannot fool me. I read about your family!"
Alexander flinches. A dark spark ignites on his face, reaching his eyes and making him look truly scary. My mind insists he won't hurt me. Yet, my body feels differently.
I became curious about his family. David said the Alexanders are a public family, involved in many scandals. They're elite among elites. The father is very picky about his circle."Never! Don't touch! My family!" He hisses and steps back.