Stalked by my Professor Novel

Chapter 68 I've seen Ezra with a swollen eye and busted lip before. Dad got good at not leaving marks where someone could see, but that depended on how drunk he was, and how much Ezra had mouthed off. But this...? Ezra's face is so swollen, he doesn't look human. Both his lips are split and puffy, his nose is in a strut because I guess I broke it, and there's barely a sliver of his left eye visible. The other is completely hidden inside a bulge of yellow-brown marshmallow flesh. I slide my fingers over my mouth as I stare down at the blatant evidence of my own violence. Jesus.

I think I'm gonna puke. The steady beep of the heart monitor should be comforting, but every electronic chime feels like a knife stabbed into my tight chest. I can't believe I did this. And I know I'd have done worse if I hadn't been dragged off Ezra. The nurse at the counter at the end of the hall told me the doctor would come around in a few minutes to check on Ezra. I'd planned to speak to him, find out the extent of Ezra's injuries...but my fingers and toes are still prickling with panic from when I walked in here. I thought the woman in teal-colored scrubs had sent me to the wrong room.

Because I didn't recognize Ezra. Because that's how badly I'd fucked up his face. One of his arms is in plaster too. I probably broke it when he was trying to defend himself. Against me. What's really shocking is that my parents haven't been in touch yet. Dad kinda makes sense. He's almost always overseas on business these days. But what about Mom? Is she honestly just ignoring this like she ignored all the other times Ezra ended up at Agony Memorial? I guess I shouldn't be that surprised. She has a permanent crick in her neck from looking the other way.

"Hey, Ezra-" I croak, cutting off when I hear the pathetic sound of my own voice. I clear my throat and lean in again, even though it only makes Ezra's injuries more vivid. More incriminating. More nauseating. "Listen, man, I...I don't know what to say. Sorry doesn't even begin to cut it." I brace myself on the mattress so I can lean in even more. "Can you hear me?" Beep. Beep. Beep. Stab. Stab. Stab. Up close, I can hear the hiss-sigh of the ventilator strapped over Ezra's mouth.

It's the kind with a tube going down his throat, even though I'm pretty sure the nurse said they're keeping him sedated, not that he's in a coma or anything. I lick my lips. Swallow. "I know I overreacted, bro. But fuck it, you didn't need to do that to her." My throat is getting tighter with every word, like someone's shoving a tube down my trachea too. But the fear is being shouldered aside by something else. "And what about all that intern bullshit, huh?" My voice is shaking now, and even staring at Ezra's swollen face, I can't suppress the fury rising inside me.

"That shit funny to you, bro?" I widen my eyes, my breath catching with a guttural sound. Did...did Ezra's eyelid just flicker? I stare at him for a second. Stare hard. Hiss. Sigh. Beep. Beep. Beep. Must have been my imagination. "Everyone thinks I'm the asshole," I tell him, leaning in even closer. "But we both know that's bullshit." Hiss. Sigh. Beep. Beep. Beep. "You're the fucking asshole. You. But no one's gonna know, are they? That's what's so great about a having a little brother who always keeps his mouth shut, right? But guess what, bro? I'm sick of it. All of it.

You crossed a fucking line." It's liberating getting this stuff off my chest. Best part? Ezra can't argue, can't overpower me, can't do shit. He just has to take it. Like I've taken it, all these fucking years. "And don't get me started on that gangbang bullshit with Haven." My chest is so tight my words come out in a croak. "The fuck is wrong with you, huh? Was that just supposed to be another prank, like the internship stuff? Or were you trying to get back at me for all the times I ran off to the woods and left you home alone with Dad?" Beep.

Beep-Beep I laugh, but nothing about this is even remotely funny. "That's what this is, isn't it? Revenge? Playing the long game, huh? First, you forced me to join your circle jerk of a frat. Then you lie to me about a job, because you know that's the only fucking reason I'd put up with your bullshit day in and day out. What better carrot than a chance to get out of this turd mine of a town?" I put my face so close to Ezra's, I can smell the stench of unwashed skin and disinfectant soaked into his body. beep-beep-beep "I came here because I felt fucking guilty. Guilty! But you know what?

Friday night was when I saw things clearly for the first fucking time in my life. All it took was a little molly to put it all in perspective, bro." "I hope you die in this bed, you motherfucker." The last is a bark filled with malice and hate, easily loud enough to carry to the door. beep-beep-beep-beep-beep I glance over my shoulder, the hairs on my nape standing up, but the doorway is clear. When I turn back to Ezra, my fucking soul leaves my body. His one eye is as wide open as it can go. A sliver of bloodshot white, pupil pulsing as he tries to focus.

My stomach twists so violently I have to swallow down bile. Jesus fucking Christ. He's awake. beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep- Then he must realize that there's a fucking tube down his throat, because he starts gagging and choking, one hand flailing wildly until he latches onto my wrist and digs his nails into my skin. "Mm! Mmm!" I'm gaping. Breath locked deep in my lungs. Face tingling as I go pale with shock. Someone drags me out of the way as nurses cluster around Ezra. My heart thumps frantically inside my chest as an orderly drags me out of the room.

As soon as we're outside, he lets go and rushes back inside the room. I totter there in the middle of the hall as more nurses and someone in a white coat rush into Ezra's room. I'm caught between wanting to flee what suddenly feels like a crime scene, or staying to see if my brother's okay. But I'm not given a choice. A hand grabs the back of my neck, and through some psychic gift I didn't know I had, I know it belongs to Rooke before I hear his voice. "Just the boy I've been looking for," he growls in my ear as he marches me down the hall, away from Ezra's room.

"Let go of me, you freak!" "Quiet. We need to talk." A nurse exits a room up ahead, and Rooke hurriedly pulls his hand off my neck. We're both silent as the woman passes, both of us giving her an inane smile when she greets us, both our mouths going back to lines as soon as she's out of sight. There's a restroom sign up ahead. As I turn toward the other corridor leading to the exit, Rooke grabs the back of my hoodie in a fist and yanks me inside the restroom. He closes and latches the door, dragging me along as he goes to check that all the stalls are empty.

"The fuck are you⁠-" He shoves me so hard that I land face first on the white linoleum floor. I scramble up, but he's already closing on me. No time to even get my fists up before he twists his hand in the front of my hoodie and pins me to the tiled wall. "Phone," he says, eyes flickering over my phone like he's scanning my expression into his memory. "Wh-" His free hand slides over my body. First, my hoodie's pouch. Then down, down⁠- "Okay, fuck!" I shove a hand in my pocket and drag out my phone, pressing it against his chest.

He tugs it out of my fingers, turns it to face me, and flashes me a cold smile when the facial recognition software unlocks it for him. "My, my, what a busy little bee you've been," he comments idly as he scrolls through my photos. "Some of these are rather good. You ever consider taking up photography on a more professional level? The world can always use another stalker." The acid in my stomach congeals into slime when he pauses his invasion of privacy to smirk at me. "Does Haven know you're her biggest fan?" "Cunt!" I shout, trying to snatch my phone out of his hand.

Like a fucking high school bully, he simply holds it up, out of reach, keeping me pinned to the wall with his arm. "Where is it?" he asks calmly, like he doesn't have me pinned to the fucking wall. "Where's what?" I huff out, squirming in defiance against his grip. "I could just reset to factory settings," he murmurs, eyes on my phone as he scrolls. "But then it would still be in the cloud, wouldn't it?" The video. He's talking about the video. Haven, you piece of shit. I try to push him away, but he shoves me back twice as hard.

Lights flash when my head cracks against the wall, and I decide to stay where I am until I've got a clear shot for the door. "Ah...here it is..." His eyes light up with an almost demonic light as he watches the first bit of the video I took of him with Haven. "Not my best work, but I dare say, not yours either." There's a faint whoosh noise as he deletes the video. When his eyes flick back to me, I can't help but flinch. "Who else did you send this to?" "Tons of people." He scoffs. "Is it saved anywhere else?" "Yes," I lie.

"Your nose scrunches up when you lie, boy." He tilts his head, lips quirking up. "You wouldn't risk saving these to the cloud. They're too...incriminating." He adjusts his grip, leaning in a little closer so our bodies are almost touching. "Be honest. You don't back up your photos, do you?" I swallow. Look away. "No." "No...what?" Now he's right up against me, his muscles against mine. "No, sir." He makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat. "Good boy." My eyes slide closed at his touch when he puts my phone back in my pocket.

The way his hand lingers sends urgent signals to my brain-but all the wrong kind. He smiles at the way I flinch when he pats my pocket. "Now, while we're on the subject of what a terrible liar you are..." He stops to inhale a big breath, his slow exhale warming my throat. I've faced off against Ezra. My dad. Haven's dad. A couple of other guys over the years when the booze was flowing and the hormones raging. Nothing could have prepared me for the look in Rooke's eyes. They're blown out, nearly all black, and livid.

"I asked if there'd be cops knocking at my door when you came to rescue Haven after the Rain Dance. Why'd you lie?" ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ FindN0vel.net I scoff. "I didn't know⁠-" "That there'd be an investigation after you put your brother into a fucking coma?" The last words are a vicious whisper. "No. I mean...yes, obviously, but..." I grab Rooke's wrist, trying to prise his fingers off my clothes, but he twists his hand even tighter, pulling me away from the wall before slamming me back again. Crowding in even closer. "But what, boy?" He's not mad at me.

Despite his brutal grip, the way his body shakes like he's struggling not to wail on me until I end up in that empty bed next to Ezra, the way he searches my face tells me this isn't anger. It's fear. Instead of trying to pull him off me, I tighten my grip until I can feel the muscles in his wrist bunching. "You worried they'll find out about you and my brother? What you did to him?" I murmur, my eyes narrowing as I try to search a face that's mostly in shadow.

"What he begged me to do to him." Rooke chuckles as he leans back, flattening his hand on my chest and pushing me harder into the wall. "I have every reason to be here. Ezra is a former student. You, however, look like you're trying to assuage your guilt." His gaze drops to my mouth before slowly trailing back to my eyes. "Or are you here to finish the job?" I don't like the way he's looking at me. Or how rough and low his voice is suddenly. How hooded his eyes are when he locks gazes with me again. "I'm his brother.

If anyone has a reason to be here, it's me." Rooke's lips curl up at the edges. It might have been a smile if that mirth ever reached his eyes, but they're as cold and hard as the wall he has me pinned against. "You really think all we did was fuck?" Rooke says, putting so much emphasis on that last word, it conjures up images of him pressed up against my brother. Bitter saliva rushes into my mouth. It tastes just like Rooke's cum. "He couldn't wait to let it all out. The beatings. The assaults.

Any of this ring a bell, Kai?" He uses the tip of his finger to move a chunk of hair off my forehead. My face heats. Part shame, part guilt. How could Ezra snitch like this? And to this fucking psycho of all people? What the hell did my brother even see in him, anyway? He doesn't give a fuck about anyone else but himself. Yet somehow he conned Haven too. How either of them can find him⁠- Okay, fine. Rooke's attractive. I'll give them that. But can't they see how fucking manipulative he is?

Maybe because he was never interested in me, I never got to experience the charm he slathers on his victims. Until now. "We had a tough childhood. Who doesn't?" I snap. There's a fractured light in Rooke's eyes then. Something wild, almost frantic that glows before he dips his head, the shadows blocking it out. "We? Sounds like you quite enjoyed yourself as a kid. Ezra's the one that suffered, not you." My jaw clenches. Un-fucking-believable. "He chose⁠-" Rooke's free hand clasps my throat.

He leans into me, his warmth, his smell, all forming a dark oppressive presence that keeps me at bay as much as the hand on my throat. Kick him in the fucking balls. Claw out his eyes. Spit in his face. Do. Fucking. Something. But I do nothing. I just let him manhandle me, my teeth clamped closed, my entire body trembling with suppressed anger. "He chose?" Rooke murmurs. The tip of his nose brushes mine, his warm, sweet breath washing over my mouth with every word. "And exactly which options did you give him, boy?" "Me?" There's a buzzing in my ears. Rooke is too close again.

His body too warm. Too hard. Too insistent as he presses against me. I need to figure out the thing in Rooke's words that's not making sense, but my brain is too busy stopping my dick from getting hard. I don't want this. I don't want him. I want Haven. Always. Forever. My chest is hammering, my breath shortening against the press of his body, and I fucking hate that I can't stop shaking. My brain is screaming at me to shove him off, but my legs won't move. I swallow hard, but saliva just keeps rushing back into my mouth.

"He chose to stay." "You're lying again," Rooke murmurs, the tip of his nose sliding over my cheek as he moves his mouth to my ear. "You'll have to learn how to hide your tells with that cop sniffing around, boy." A vicious pulse of blood hardens my dick even more when he licks the side of my ear, a delusional part of me responding to his dominance even when I'm sick to my stomach. This is what Rooke does. He makes you complicit in your own destruction. "I'm not lying," I mutter through clenched teeth, pulling my head out of reach. Rooke simply follows with a muted chuckle.

There's a stinging pain when he nips my earlobe. I shove him away with a yell, and he rocks back on his heels, laughing, like this is all some fucking game, and he's already winning. Then he's crowding against me again, one hand still on my throat, the other dragging my hoodie down my shoulder with his fist. His dick presses against my leg. It's even harder than mine. "Sounds like you enjoy inflicting pain," Rooke says, his eyes flicking down to my exposed shoulder. "Do you enjoy receiving it, too?" Finally, my brain grinds out the answer to the puzzle it had been trying to solve.

My heart is banging against my chest, a solid wall of vomit building in my throat as I meet Rooke's gaze. I have an inch on him, but he might as well be towering over me, that's how powerless I feel right now. "He told you I hurt him?" I whisper through numb lips. "Even showed me the scars." Rooke drags his bottom lip through his teeth, his eyes dropping to my mouth. "I was particularly fond of the one you left on his shoulder." "I...I never touched him." My voice is so weak, I can barely hear myself. "It was...it was..." But I can't say it. I can't fucking say it. Not even to defend myself.

What the fuck is wrong with me? He smiles. "Once more, boy. With feeling." My voice erupts in a roar. "Fuck you! I never⁠-" Rooke drops his head, his teeth sinking into the muscle bulging just above my collarbone. That nip on my earlobe? A bee sting. This? A fucking shark attack. I yell, shoving him so hard he falls back with a stagger. "What the fuck!" I clap a hand over the livid teeth marks he left on my flesh, whipping my head up to stare at him as aching pain stabs into my body. There's blood under my fingers-warm, already slippery.

He grins at me, licking blood off his teeth with a slow swirl of his tongue as he walks backward to the door. All without taking his eyes off me. Like he's soaking in every second of my pain, my disgust...my humiliation. "Funny thing about blood," he says, dragging the tip of his finger over his bottom lip. "Doesn't matter where it comes from. Your flesh, Haven's pussy...all tastes the same to me."