I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 34: Chapter 34

Lysander’s pov

Drake’s full lips curled downward into a cold, arrogant sneer as he stepped closer again.

"If it wasn’t for the fact that your blood is the only source capable of stabilizing my power, I would have broken you completely days ago."

"Your blood is the sole reason you are even breathing the same air as me right now."

I froze, the harsh words hitting my chest like an icy bucket of water. "O-oh my god..."

"The... the only reason you ever came near me... was because you needed my b-blood?"

"Precisely," he snapped coldly, his expression unreadable.

"You... you never liked me at all, did you?" I whispered, my voice breaking completely as fresh tears poured down my face. "I was just... a bottle of medicine to you."

Drake’s jaw clenched tightly, and he stared down at me in absolute, stony silence.

Every second of quiet tore through my heart, leaving me feeling completely stupid and pathetic for ever having feelings for him.

He was worse than Gideon. Gideon hated me because of my mom, but Drake... Drake used me.

He never cared about me for a single second.

"J-just let me go," I choked out, my entire body shaking so hard I could barely stand. "P-please..."

His grey eyes flickered dark. "No. You’re not going anywhere until we finish this."

"L-leave me alone!" I gasped, trying to bolt past his side toward the exit.

Drake reached out lightning-fast, grabbing me by the scruff of my jacket to yank me back into his chest.

Before he could pull me in, he suddenly released me with a sharp, pained hiss, stepping back abruptly.

The distinct, sickly smell of charred, burning flesh filled the quiet lecture hall.

Drake was glaring down at his right palm, where a dark, smoking burn mark was searing into his skin.

My eyes dropped to my chest, I was clutching the pure silver sapphire pendant Darius had given me.

The silver! Darius was right!

A faint wave of relief washed over my panicked mind, though I was still trembling too hard to stand straight.

"Who gave you that necklace?" Drake demanded, his voice dangerously level, though his eyes flashed with cold rage.

"N-none of your business!" I squeaked out, holding the pendant tightly like a lifeline.

His right brow twitched with mounting agitation. "Lysander."

"D-don’t say my name!" I sobbed out, backing away toward the heavy wooden door. "S-stay away from me!"

"Lysander, stand still—"

"I-I’ll burn you with this!" I yelled out desperately, my hand shaking as I held the silver out toward him. "I swear I will!"

Turning around, I pushed open the heavy lecture hall door, slammed it shut behind me, and ran down the hallway as fast as my aching legs could carry me.

It felt so insanely liberating to finally tell Drake where to stick it.

Striding down the long marble hallway of the fine arts building, I couldn’t stop the small, triumphant smile from creeping onto my face.

After enduring his terrifying, brutal hands for two nightmare-filled days, standing up to him felt infinitely better than I had ever imagined.

I could still feel my entire body vibrating with a wild rush of adrenaline as the reality slowly sank in: I had actually stood up to him.

I had faced down a literal monster, held up Darius’s silver pendant, and backed him off.

Mentally squealing with sheer relief, I pushed open the heavy double doors of the lecture hall for my afternoon studio class.

Still floating on cloud nine, it took me a few seconds to realize the atmosphere in the room was horribly, suffocatingly wrong.

Everyone’s eyes were locked onto me the second my shoes crossed the threshold.

Cell phones were held close to their faces, their eyes flicking back and forth between their lit screens and my face.

A cold wave of icy dread raced down my spine as I took in the scandalized, disgusted expressions surrounding me from every row.

The sudden, overwhelming urge to turn around and sprint out of the building hit me hard, but attendance was mandatory for my scholarship.

If I missed another studio hour, my financial aid would be flagged, and I couldn’t do that to my mom after everything she thinks of me. She thought the whole world of me because of my academic brilliance.

My joints felt completely stiff, like wooden blocks, as I forced my legs to move toward my usual desk near the back window.

The desk right beside mine was occupied by a guy I rarely spoke to, mostly because of how shy I was around my classmates.

I kept my head down, my eyes fixed on the floor, unzipping my bag to grab my sketchbook while feeling every single pair of eyes burning into me.

A quiet, snorting whisper from my right made my entire spine freeze into marble.

"Fucking slut," the guy snickered softly under his breath.

The dread running down my back left sharp, painful pinpricks of ice in its wake as I slowly turned my head to stare at him.

He chuckled maliciously, glancing between my pale face and his phone screen with a sickening, triumphant smirk.

Without even thinking, I lunged sideways, my hands shaking as I tried to snatch the phone out of his hand to see what he was looking at.

In the brief, frantic struggle, his finger accidentally hit the volume rocker, cranking the phone’s internal speakers to full blast.

The loud, unmistakable sound of high-pitched, desperate moans shattered the quiet room, confirming my absolute worst, most horrifying nightmare.

"Harder, yes! Ahh~ right there, oh fuckkk..."

He jerked the phone well out of my reach, sneering at me while several people in the front rows turned around to laugh.

"Try that again and I’ll break your fucking nose," he growled low, leaning back against his chair. "Though I’m sure you’d love that," he whistled, eyeing me up and down with raw disgust. "Never thought the quiet kid was such a filthy slut in bed."

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped animal as I stared at the bright display resting on his desk.

It was a thirty-second video clip playing on loop on our department’s massive group chat, filmed in a dark room with a single camera light pointed at me.

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