Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals!

Chapter 237: 237. Ridiculously Expensive

Maisie

"Murderer. Killer. Whore."

My assigned locker was painted in pig’s blood, the stale coppery sludge running down in disgusting droplets, staining even the floors.

Maybe the general student body had made a decision to avoid me before they got the sharp end of the knife, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t make their hatred of me as loud as their disapproval of the council’s decision to bring me back here.

Students snickered as they walked past, while I wiped furiously at the blood, face red with rage that had nothing to do with the obscenity, and everything to do with the blonde fucker three lockers down, twirling a girl’s brown hair around his fingers, speaking French into her ears while she giggled like she was having a seizure.

I knew Quinlan was being fucking petty, but right after marking me like I was his fucking property and rendering me unable to walk in a freaking straight line, I wasn’t in the mood to think about the semantics of him trying to make me jealous.

My eyes burned with anger.

Tired out of my mind as I was, I’d told the bastard that I loved him last night. And though I knew that wasn’t enough to fix my reputation, I also knew I didn’t deserve to be burning in the hell of envy and hate and want and all these goddess-forsaken emotions I couldn’t even afford right now, when so much was at stake.

Kill the girl. Kill the girl and then kill him for touching her. He marked us. He doesn’t get to play with other toys.

"We are not killing Quinlan," I grunted internally.

Drag him into the nearest classroom. Snap his fingers, his arms and his legs. Then sit on his face.

Lust flared under my skin at the thought of both hurting Quinlan and fucking his face and I shut my eyes, hissing under my breath. "Not helping."

She giggled in my head. "Heads up at three o’clock. Angry Lycan approaching."

I turned right and a furious storm made a beeline for me in the form of an angry redhead with vicious green eyes and a scowl that could curdle milk.

Oh boy.

The students scurried away from Mercer’s path like they could see the dark cloud around him, and I carried on wiping the blood off my locker, like I didn’t even notice him. He barely even spared Quinlan a second glance before he slammed his fist into the locker above my head.

"What the fuck is this?!" he snarled.

I turned with a pleasant smile, bloodied rag in hand. "Good morning to you too, my least, favorite husband. How was your night? Mine was wonderful, thanks for asking."

"Cut the bullshit, Maisie," he growled, shoving a stack of papers in my face. "Why the fuck did I get charged twelve million for your expenses?!"

Twelve? I was going to have to talk to Gruer soon. That was just ridiculous. There was no way I’d borrowed that much from him. Though, three weeks in a private facility, blood purification from poison, full paralysis care, feeding tubes, specialists, and every time he’d come to my rescue, bribing and bailing me out before the cops could get to me on several occasions, and saving my life... I supposed it was that was almost appropriate.

Still ridiculous asking nearly twice the amount for interest.

I couldn’t deny that the look on Mercer’s face right now was worth it.

I pouted and batted my eyelashes up at him prettily. "Didn’t you know? Abortions are terribly expensive. Not to speak of the aftercare." I waved him off nonchalantly. "If it’s too much for you, consider it payment for all the free sex I gave you. And the inspiring positions, too."

The air between us vanished.

Mercer’s eyes blackened completely and the next thing I knew, my breath was cut short as his hand slammed into my throat and pinned me hard against the lockers. The metal rattled behind my head hard enough that the hallway fell silent and the students watched us with round eyes.

I guessed it wasn’t often Lycans aired out their dirty laundry in public.

His grip was tight enough that all of the blood rushed to my head and I couldn’t get a single breath in.

"Say that shit again," he said with deadly softness. "I fucking dare you."

I should have been afraid. I was afraid. But a reckless little smile tugged at my mouth even as my airway narrowed. "A little too soon for jokes?"

Mercer’s thumb pressed harder against the side of my neck, right over my pulse. Black splotches appeared in my vision as he lifted me off the ground, sliding me up along the lockers until I started to kick and scrape my nails along his hands. "Put me down."

He leaned in until I could feel the heat of his breath on my lips. "Keep running your mouth, Adams," he murmured, "and I’ll give you something much worse than pig’s blood to worry about."

Ignoring the violence straining his arms, I lowered my eyes to his mouth. "You promise?"

Mercer’s left eye twitched. "I’m not paying for your shit."

"You didn’t need to press me up against the wall to tell me that," I deadpanned. Then I tilted my head. "Unless this is your own sick way of feeling me up? I could take off my clothes if you’d prefer something more up close and personal."

Maybe I really was a sucker for pain and punishment. And I was practically begging for it at this point.

Before Mercer could follow on his promise, a lazy drawl came from two lockers down. "You know, if you kill her in the hallway, the clean up is going to be a nightmare. Blood is a bitch to get out of tile," Quinlan said, sounding far too entertained by us for my liking.

Mercer didn’t let up. His eyes stayed locked on me, burning with fury. "Stay out of this, Quinlan."

"Just saying." Quinlan pushed off the locker and the girl he’d been flirting with, hands in his pocket as he strolled closer. "She’s already having a rough morning. You’re not making it worse."

I might have felt a bit of gratitude towards Quinlan, if I didn’t know just what he meant by ’a rough morning’.

But Mercer blinked, his grip flexing. Then he suddenly leaned in, sniffing the air around me. His nostrils flared and his movements became slightly frantic as he pressed his nose to my cheek, my hair, my neck. The papers dropped from his grasp as he hooked his fingers in the collar of my ugly purple sweater and yanked it down hard enough to rip it off.

And then, he froze.

Very slowly, his head turned to Quinlan.

Quinlan’s eyes crinkled with mirth. "Oh," he said lightly. "You found it. Pretty, isn’t it? You should see the others I left under her clothes--"

Mercer dropped me so fast, I hit the floor on my knees, and it occurred to me that Quinlan’s visit to my room last night might not have been a collective decision when Mercer turned around and punched Quinlan in the face.

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