Page 32 of Midnight Curfew

I don’t want to know what she went through, because I’m not the one who’s going to fix her. This room is her sanctuary, and maybe I’m an asshole, but she seems pretty happy. As long as people let her be, and as long as they call her Anna-Katherine.

Her stepbrother doesn’t like to use her new name, but…

I will admit she seemed more patient with him than with others. She wouldn’t have held his hand if she found him threatening, which is the only reason I didn’t put him in his place when he barked at her. If she trusts him, I don’t want to take away from that for her at home.

Sliding my laptop into my bag, I sling it over my head and check the windows, making sure they’re sealed from the rain. Streams glide down the glass, and the clouds hang low and thick, almost making it look like night, but it’s only four.

Footsteps approach, and I look up in time to see Iron and Trace stroll into my classroom. Lightning flashes across the sky, thunder following.

“Ready?” Iron asks.

“I have my own car.” I push in my chair. “What are you doing?”

As if I don’t know. Most of the teachers here are women. They’re hoping to get an eyeful.

But Iron explains, “Dinner’s ready. Krisjen cooked.”

Right. As if her take on my parents’ recipes is worth rushing home for.

But actually, she has improved with Mariette’s help. And it is nice to have meals at home more. I’m not sure I feel ready to tell her that, though.

But I know why they were sent to escort me. “Macon doesn’t trust that I’ll be on time,” I state.

“Pretty much,” Trace chirps, sifting through the books on my desk.

We’re moving two trucks of liquor tonight. I have hours before I need to be home, since we’re waiting until most of the town is in bed for the night.

Trace holds up Sex in Antiquity. “What the fuck is this?”

I grab it and stuff it back into the bottom of the pile.

“Research,” I mumble.

I’m still deciding if I want students to be able to borrow it or not. It’s a scholarly text, not porn, but there are some graphic parts.

“Oh, I get it.” Iron peers at me as if he’s just discovered a secret about me. “Sexuality was more about roles back then, rather than gender. One was passive, the other dominant…”

“Sex was about power,” I say as I lead the way out of my classroom. “Roman male citizens couldn’t be in the passive role. It was shameful to be the one penetrated.”

Trace shivers, and I throw him a look. I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but it’s clear some things haven’t changed.

“So, have you ever been the submissive one?” Iron presses, walking next to me.

“Are you asking if I’ve ever been the socket instead of the plug?” I tease, sticking my fingers in the hole of my other hand. “Is that what you’re asking me?”

Trace shakes with laughter, and Iron turns away with a grin.

“You shared a room with him,” Trace points out to him.

“I didn’t share men with him.” Iron sees two women pass my classroom door in the hallway and lowers his voice. “If it wasn’t a woman, I didn’t stay.”

He did walk in a couple of times, but he was quick to turn around and leave again. Not sure he could tell what was happening.

“So have you?” he asks me again. “Been the submissive one?”

The memory floats in my head, and my mouth falls open a little, but I can’t take in much air.

“With one,” I murmur.