Page 82 of The Headmaster’s Rule

But he shakes his head, stepping away. “The doors are about to open. Get into position.” He motions along the corridor and I exhale, picking my way past the various decorations, a teacher in a ghost costume I think might be Rowan, and a haunted pumpkin patch, until I find my spot at the end of the hall. The darkest corner, where I hand out candy and try to terrify the kids before they leave. Not much different from my usual role, only with more candy.

The kids trickle down the corridor, laughing and shoving each other, screaming when Rowan jumps out at them, then dissolving into giggles. I stand in my corner, not saying much, but they jump when they see me, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m hidden in shadow, or because they’re genuinely freaked out by my costume, but either way, it works. I hand over their candy and wish them a happy Halloween as they leave, turning back to wait for the next lot.

Then I see her.

My breath catches as Eleanor flits into the hallway ahead of me, laughing with a group of kids, a dream come to life. She’s in a pale blue dress, flowing just above the knees, the bodice gently cinched at her waist. There’s a soft glow to her, from fairy lights woven into her crown, a shimmer dusted across her collarbones. Translucent wings flutter as she turns to speak to a student, her eyes lit with excitement.

Another group of kids approaches, but I’m spellbound, watching her. My fairy princess. She doesn’t notice me lurking in the corner, her polar opposite in every way. She’s light and laughter and magic. I’m shadow and consequences.

Much like real life.

But I’m struggling to remember the consequences tonight. My blood heats as I watch her handing out candy, radiant and glowing. She’s so sweet, so innocent in that damn costume.

And all I can think about is how she tasted on my tongue four nights ago. What those wings would look like from behind, bent over my desk.

I growl, low and dangerous, more to myself than anyone else.

But a scream at my feet snaps my attention down. A little boy sobs, looking around wildly for his mom. I don’t know this kid, must be a sibling of one of our students. The terror in his eyes guts me, especially as he points to my mouth in fear.

Shit. The fangs.

I whip them out, kneeling in front of the boy, and hold the teeth in my palm.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” I say in a soothing voice. “They’re not real. See? Just pretend.”

He blinks at me, calming down, and I breathe out in relief. I hold out my basket of candy, letting him choose several pieces, but there’s still no sign of his mom, and he looks worried again.

“Hey,” I murmur, setting the basket aside. “Want to hold my hand while we look for your mom?”

He nods, but when I hold my furry paw out, he recoils.

Goddammit. I’m a monster.

I rip the gloves off, shoving them into my pocket. He hesitates then slides his little hand into mine, and we head down the corridor, looking for his mom. A rowdy group of kids comes barreling toward us, and the boy presses into my leg, scared. I scoop him up out of the way, and he tucks his face into my chest.

It’s then that I notice Eleanor watching me, eyes smoldering, biting hard into her bottom lip as we pass. I find the kid’s mom and hand him over, heading back past Eleanor, and this time she follows me to my corner.

“Who was that?” she asks breathlessly.

“I don’t know,” I say, pretending not to notice how dark her eyes are, the deep flush under the glitter on her cheekbones. “But he was scared.”

“You were so good with him.” Her voice drops. “So… patient.”

I shrug, attempting nonchalance as I pull my gloves back on. Her gaze falls to my hands, and she swallows hard. There’s no one else in my corner and it’s tempting, too tempting, to pull her close and press my mouth to hers. To push that sweet little dress up her thighs. To forget where we are.

I try to clear the sudden roughness from my throat, unable to tear my gaze from her. Her chest rises and falls with her uneven breathing. Even in the dim light, I can see the way her gaze rakes over me hungrily. It’s probably the same way I looked at her a few moments ago.

And I know for certain I won’t be able to wait until tomorrow night for her.

I lean in, lowering my voice. “Please meet me in my office when this wraps up, Miss Hart.”

Her breath stutters. When I draw away, she looks up at me from under hooded lids.

“Yes, sir.”

Oh, fuck.

Then she leaves, and I count the minutes until I can get her alone. Inviting her into my office is so wrong, but as I watch her hand out candy, laughing with the kids, I can’t find it in me to care. In fact, the moment cannot come fast enough.