CHAPTER 50: PULLING HIS EARS

Theo wished she could clearly see his face, but she couldn’t. If she had to guess though, she would say his brows were creased and he was slightly glaring at her - because she could feel a heavy gaze on her face.

"I only asked you to stay in bed," he began quietly, a hint of frustration in his tone, "How difficult could that have been for you?"

She swallowed, "Very,"

"Of course!" He almost barked, sarcasm in his tone, "I should have known,"

"I couldn’t stay in bed. I had to come to class. If I skip another day, who knows what my homeroom teacher--"

"I remember telling you that I was going to talk to him - which I did. You’re not gonna be punished anymore,"

"You did?" She found it hard to believe, "And he agreed? He was probably just joking. Professor Sylas isn’t someone who-"

"Isn’t someone who what?"

"He’s Cold-blooded, harsh, strict, doesn’t take no for an answer, can stare death into someone’s eyes, is too calm for his own good, and," She dropped her voice and whispered the last time, "I think he knows my secret. He knows I usually lose my boobs,"

Sylas held that calm look, but an aggravated sigh escaped at last, "I was supposed to keep you in the house till you become sober enough not to go blabbing about anything that could implicate you. Now look at what you’ve done - you stepped out and you’ve been seen,"

"I just wanted to..."

"You should have listened to me," He said tightly, "Now not only do I have to punish you, but I also have you send you back to your dorm after since you’re no longer ’missing’ "

The only words that stuck were ’Punish you’ and she looked alarmed, "But why? I was really on my way to class,"

"It’s not about you just being late, it’s about you being drunk!"

"Drunk?" She tried to sniff her breath, "I’m not drunk. I’m just having trouble walking...and seeing,"

"Good, then that would be what your punishment would be on,"

"No please, don’t punish me. I can’t go through another one of those...,"

Sylas watched her silently. In her drunken state, she forgets a lot of things even if they happened just hours ago. But the fact that she didn’t forget what happened in the discipline hall that night says a lot.

She was deeply scarred. Whatever she saw did a lot of damage to her.

"Your Punishment is Field Run, Venom. You’re to run around the field five times without stopping. Once you stop, you start over,"

Field Run was at least better than the mirrors. It was a brutal sprint designed to slow you down with each obstacle that appears at random. Some students even puke halfway, and others are allowed to watch you humiliate yourself.

"No!" She suddenly snapped, anger rising in her.

Sylas was taken aback, "No?" He dared her to speak with his eyes.

"No!" She repeated with confidence, "What did I do that was so wrong? I didn’t get drunk or whatever because I wanted to. And I already told you, I was on my way to class, really. Do you know how many times I got lost? You should consider how determined I was!"

"The only thing I consider is how goddamn stubborn you are!"

"I’m not the only stubborn person here," She murmured under her breath

"What did you just say?"

She looked away, biting her lips, "You’re heartless...,"

He sounded like he was about to snap in half, "I’m...," But quickly held himself back, drawing in sharp breaths, "Have you forgotten that I was the one who took you back to my place just so you wouldn’t...,"

"You’re not the one who did that. That was Professor Sylas!" She stated strongly, eyeing him, "And you’re Professor Sylas...," She trailed away, realisation dawning on her, "Oh! You and my hometown teacher are the same person...,"

"You can NEVER get drunk again!" He warned sternly and took her hand.

"Where are we going?"

"To get you changed out of those clothes?"

"Why?"

"They’re mine,"

"They are?" She asked and sniffed him, then sniffed the clothes, "You’re right! They’re. Does that mean you’re the giant and delicious person?"

His grip around her arm tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

"I’m not running around that field," She mumbled after a few seconds of silence.

They walked into a building, and she heard something like a locker open, and then he dropped a change of clothes on top, "Wear this and step outside,"

"I can’t take off this shirt on my own. I’m gonna get stuck," She mumbled with a pout.

"Then get stuck!"

"You have no heart," She whispered under her breath, and reached up to take the clothes, but her hands wouldn’t reach.

She tried standing on her tiptoes, but it only made her sway even more.

Frustrated, she cried, "I’m not changing these clothes!"

"What?"

"These ones are comfortable," She said to him, "And they smell nice,"

"The pants are slipping,"

"I can keep pulling it up, it’s not hard, a tiny bit annoying,"

Sylas grabbed the clothes and shoved them into her hands, "Wear them, NOW!"

"NO!" She fired back, "You don’t get to tell me what to do." She suddenly grabbed his cheeks and pulled hard, "Just because you’re Sylas Veylor doesn’t give you the right to push me around, or I’m gonna tear off these cheeks, got it?"

Sylas looked down at her with a flabbergasted look. There was no one out there who would dare to touch him so casually, and yet here she was, ready to tear off his face.

He pulled her hand away, and that upset her. Theo raised a fist and brought it down on his forehead, giving him a proud knock that slightly echoed on the walls of the room.

"And let me warn you, you cold-blooded demon," She continued, and pulled his ears this time, "The next time you act like the world is beneath your feet, or you subject me to one of those horrors, I’m gonna find my boobs and I’m gonna slap your stupid, handsome face with them so hard!"

She looked pretty pleased with herself.

Sylas froze. Absolutely, completely froze.

Her fingers were on his ears—his ears—tugging, twisting and dragging his head down like he was some misbehaving wolf cub.

For a moment, he could only stare at her—this small, swaying disaster of a girl with flushed cheeks and sun-lit eyes—while something unfamiliar, sharp and heated, punched through the cold armour he always carried.

His jaw ticked.

Not from anger.

But from the sheer effort it took to maintain control.

His voice, when it finally emerged, was low and rough around the edges, "...Theodora,"

It wasn’t a reprimand, but a warning to himself.

He inhaled slowly, "Remove your hands," he said quietly, but his voice betrayed him. There was a tremor in his voice, a strangled one, as if her touch short-circuited every carefully constructed boundary he lived by.

She tugged harder, "I won’t. What are you gonna do about it, huh?"

He closed his eyes for half a second. That half second was the closest thing Sylas Veylor had ever come to losing control in public.

When Sylas opened his eyes, it wasn’t because of her. It was due to a presence that had filled the door - one he didn’t quickly pick up because this girl was torturing him in more ways than one.

Without looking, he already knew who stood there.

Theodora paused, also noticing who stood by the door. She squinted her eyes, then asked for confirmation, "Zeke?"

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