THE WEREWOLF HUNTER WHO LOVES ME

Azira

"Azira Sidorov."

I whip around at the sound of that voice. The way it called my name. It could only be one person. One person who could make all the hairs on my arm straighten.

Oh God.

He's here.

The bass-thumping music grows louder and my heart is pounding against my rib cage as he takes the empty seat by my side. His unique hazel eyes are fixed on me like lasers, burning holes into my skin.

I didn't want to come out tonight, but Natalya wouldn't take no for an answer. Now, I'm glad she wouldn't. I'm glad I didn't stay home.

As I glance over at Professor Luigi and our eyes meet, it feels like an intense jolt of electricity pulses through my veins, forcing me to break eye contact and sending my heart rate into overdrive. I open my mouth, sucking in air greedily.

Sweet Jesus.

He's so unbelievably beautiful, with dark hair cut to a medium length and always styled without a hair out of place and a strong jaw with just the exact right amount of stubble. His eyes move from me as he glares at the rest of the students, and I allow myself to look at him again.

I swallow hard as I zero in on those eyes, struggling to believe how utterly stunning they are in the dim light of this club. There is pure, sadistic delight dancing in them as he watches the students cower at his stare.

Most people wouldn't use the word beautiful to describe the man sitting next to me. They'd call him sadistic, twisted, depraved. Most of the students at SA fear him, but I've had a crush on him since the day I ended up at the wrong end of his whip, perhaps even before then.

I swallow hard, wondering what that makes me. Maybe I'm twisted and depraved just like him. It was in ninth grade when I told Principal Byrne to shove his assignment up his ass in law class because I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I remember so well the moment those normally dreaded words left Bryne's lips.

"Azira, straight to Luigi now."

I remember the fear I felt, but it was mingled with something else. Excitement, perhaps. A desire to find out if Professor Luigi's punishments were really as terrible as people described. The walk to his office I was buzzing with anticipation and then I'd looked into those eyes and the fear had quietened inside of me. They were so utterly beautiful that I couldn't be scared of him.

His accented voice was like butter when I stepped into the office.

"Sidorov, what are you doing here?"

His brow was furrowed, as I'd never been sent to him before. I remember it like it was yesterday. I told him the principal had sent me for punishment and I saw the delight in his eyes. A dark part of him lit up at the prospect of inflicting pain. It had an odd effect, one I couldn't quite understand at that age. A heat pulsing between my thighs and a coiling in my gut.

Once he took the whip to my back, the shame and confusion I felt at the enjoyment almost knocked me off my feet. After that day, I made sure I never got sent back to him because I was too ashamed of how good it felt. Too young and naïve to understand why it felt so good, and I think I'm still too inexperienced to truly understand it.

He glances at me, and there's a flash of recognition as our eyes meet. As if he recognizes the sickness inside of me. And then he leans a little closer and murmurs, "Aren't you drinking, Miss Sidorov?"