Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 136

Chapter 136

Cassian

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The whiskey doesn’t burn anymore. It should. It used to But tonight it slides down my throat like water, and the dull ache it leaves behind is nothing compared to the one already hollowing out my chest. I’ve

been staring at the same stack of essays for hours, reading the same paragraph over and over, and all I can

think about is her face, the look in her eyes when I told her what the council decided. That quiet, brittle

heartbreak that cut straight through every wall I’ve built. She didn’t yell. Didn’t argue. She just looked at

me like I’d proven every fear she’s ever had about being left behind. And gods help me, I felt it. The bond

between us thrummed so painfully it made me sick. So did what I do best. I hid behind duty. Behind the

bottle. Behind the lie that I can be her professor and not her mate.

By morning, the bottle’s empty, and I’ve convinced myself that today will be different. I’ll keep my

distance. I’ll pretend yesterday never happened. I’ll teach, she’ll listen, and we’ll survive the hour like

strangers. That’s the plan, until she walks in. The door opens, and the world shifts. Allison Rivers strides

into my classroom like sex in heels-chin high, eyes steady, mouth painted in a shade of red that could

start wars. Her uniform skirt is shorter than regulation by at least an inch. Maybe two. Her tie hangs loose

against the soft white of her shirt, and when the light from the high windows catches her hair, it looks like

black silk. The room goes quiet. Every student turns to look at her, and all I can do is try to breathe and

step further behind the podium to avoid anyone seeing ust how much control she has over me. She knows

exactly what she’s doing. Her eyes meet mine, and the bond sparks alive, raw and cruel. The faint hum of it

curls low in my spine, spreading warmth I have no right to feel. My pulse stutters, and my fingers tighten

around the piece of chalk I’m holding until it snaps clean in two.

“Miss Rivers,” I manage, voice steady only because it has to be. “You’re late.”

She smiles. It’s small, sweet and very dangerous.

“Sorry, Professor. Won’t happen again.”

Her tone is polite enough to be believable, but the glint in her eyes tells me otherwise. She knows. She’s

playing me, and she’s winning.

I clear my throat and turn back to the board, scrawling he day’s topic in sharp, deliberate strokes. “Today,

we’re continuing with advanced sigil construction.”

She takes her seat in the front row, of course, and crosses one leg over the other, her shoe dangling lazily from her heel. I can feel her gaze on me like a touch. Every time I glance up, she’s watching, pretending to take notes, lips curved in that faint, knowing smile every time my eyes drift to her legs. By the third time I

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Chapter 136

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catch her staring, my composure is hanging by a thread. I should have dismissed class early. I should have

left. Instead, I make a mistake.

“Change of plans,” I say abruptly, tossing the chalk onto the desk. “We’ll be doing a practical

demonstration.”

The words are out before I can stop them but I need to create distance. I need to not have her sitting in

the front of my class looking like a sweet temptation. A dozen students blink in surprise, but Allison just

leans back in her chair, satisfaction flickering across her face. Perfect. I lead the class into the practice hall

adjoining my classroom, the stone walls alive with runic light. “Pair off,” I instruct, keeping my voice firm,

clipped. “We’ll be focusing on defensive sigils-countermeasures and break patterns. Keep it controlled.”

Allison doesn’t move until everyone else has chosen a partner. Then she walks straight toward me. Of

course she does.

“Looks like I’m the odd one out, Professor.”

That voice, low, velvet and fucking deliberate.

I almost laugh. “You’ll work with Tessa.”

“Tessa’s gone to the infirmary,” she says, stepping closer. “Guess that leaves you.”

There’s no escaping her. Not when the bond is humming like this, not when every movement she makes

tugs at something primal inside me. I give in with a single curt nod.

“Fine. Defensive sigils. On my mark.”

She moves into position opposite me, the hem of her skirt shifting as she spreads her stance. Her pulse

flickers visibly at her throat, and I can’t stop my eyes from following it. She raises her hands, runes

glowing faintly against her palms, and I’m done for. The first exchange is harmless enough, light bursts of

energy, sigils flaring and fading in the air between us. But then she bends to draw a line along the floor,

the skirt lifting just enough to make every coherent thought vanish. Her magic hums. My pulse trips. The

air between us crackles like a live wire.

She straightens, meeting my gaze with pure mischief. “Something wrong, Professor?”

I grit my teeth. “Focus, Miss Rivers.”

“Oh, I am.” Her voice dips lower. “Completely.”

The next rune she casts hits harder than it should, forcing me to counter with more power than necessary.

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