Persephone's Point of View
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"…up. Wake. Up. Scarlet," Pride-Niklaus hissed, his voice cutting through the fog of my thoughts, sharp and insistent, pulling my attention back to the present. I could feel his gaze drilling into me, a burning intensity that I couldn't ignore.
I blinked, the irritation crawling up my spine. "I am not sleeping," I muttered, my voice dripping with annoyance as I shifted in my seat, trying to shake off the daze that had settled over me.
"No," he snapped back, his words coated in mocking bitterness. "But you were daydreaming while they were explaining what is going to happen now," he continued, the venom in his tone clear. "And as much as I don't want to even talk to you, we have no way out of this, yeah? So could you focus here? Your ADHD seems to be getting worse and worse with each passing day."
I froze, momentarily caught off guard. How the hell did he know about my ADHD? I hadn't exactly broadcasted it to the world. But there he was, throwing it in my face as if it were some kind of joke. I wasn't in the mood for a lecture, especially not from him. "I was focused," I said, the words coming out with as much confidence as I could muster, hoping he'd drop it.
He raised an eyebrow at me, unimpressed, and I could see the challenge in his eyes. "Were you? Then tell me what they said before they left!" His voice was laced with an infuriating smugness, the kind that always made my skin crawl.
My eyes darted around the room, searching for the headmasters, but they were nowhere to be seen. Instead, my gaze landed on Professor Ophelia, who was standing at the front of the class, speaking about something I couldn't bring myself to care about. Her eyes were fixed anywhere but on us, her words barely registering in my mind. Had I really gotten lost in my thoughts for that long? I hadn't even noticed when everyone else had stopped paying attention.
I turned back to Pride-Niklaus, my patience slipping with every passing second. "So?" he purred, his smug grin spreading across his face like a disease. I hated that grin. It always made me feel like I was the one who was beneath him, as though I were some kind of puzzle he was too amused to solve.
Clenching my jaw, I narrowed my eyes, trying my best to keep my composure even though every part of me wanted to lash out. "What did they say?" I asked, my voice laced with a mix of irritation and forced calm, though it was clear my patience was running thin.
He gave me that you-are-full-of-shite look, the one that made me want to scream. Then, with exaggerated care, he flipped his hair over his shoulder, the movement both infuriating and strangely graceful. His perfect, wavy locks of ebony black hair seemed to mock me, as though they existed solely to make me feel like the awkward, unruly mess I was. Too damn perfect. He always looked like he'd just walked out of some high-fashion magazine, effortlessly pulling off clothes that no one else could wear with the same arrogant ease. And I hated it. I hated how effortlessly good he looked in everything.
If I were to describe Pride-Niklaus as any of the male characters from the books I'd read so far, I would say he was a combination of Aaron Warner from Shatter Me, Cardan Greenbrier from The Cruel Prince, Hudson Vega from Crave, and Rhysand from A Court of Thorns and Roses—but with those goddamn amethyst eyes of his, of course. But imagine all the good parts of those characters—the charm, the wit, the strength—and leave out every ounce of likeability. The result would still be Pride-Niklaus.
Actually, scratch that. Take out everything likeable, keep only the looks, the arrogance, and the annoying attitude, and you've got him. It was like the universe had played a cruel joke on me, giving me the worst of both worlds: a beautiful asshole who was impossible to escape.
"Are you going to tell me, or will you keep playing with your damn hair?" I snapped, my patience wearing thinner with each passing second.
A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face, and I could feel the blood pressure rising in my veins. "Distracted?" he teased, his voice dripping with an irritating confidence that made me want to punch him.
I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to dignify his taunt with a response. "But the likes of you? Never. But dreaming is free," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now, spill it, Pride-Niklaus. I'm not saying the magical word to you." I emphasized the last part, making sure he knew exactly how much I hated having to ask him for anything. "What did Diana and Samuel say?"
He tilted his head slightly, still playing with the strands of his hair like he didn't have a care in the world. Then he raised an eyebrow in that infuriating, over-confident way of his. "Should I tell you?" he drawled, as if he were weighing the decision in his mind.
I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling the frustration bubbling inside me. "Will it benefit you if you don't?" I shot back, my tone sharp, and full of challenge.
"Nope," he beamed, that damn dazzling smile of his lighting up his face in a way that only made me angrier. How could he smile like that, after everything? After all the crap he put me through? The bastard knew how to press every single one of my buttons, and it was driving me insane.
"But I still like the mystery, and making you annoyed. Furious, too. Angering you gives me a joy in a way you can't even begin to imagine," he said, his eyes gleaming with a wicked satisfaction that only made me want to scream.
I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to lash out at him. "You won't be so happy when I stab my dagger in your seven hearts again, lil half demon," I muttered under my breath, the words slipping out before I could stop them. Of course, some people called them hellcats. And honestly, I could see why.
He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. "Are you flirting with me, Scarlet?" he purred, the mischief clear in his tone.
I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly gave myself a headache. "You should get your head checked if you think this is me flirting," I snapped, my voice a little sharper than I intended.
"Is that so?" he whispered, a grin playing at the corners of his lips, his eyes full of amusement. He wasn't buying my words, not for a second. The bastard had a way of twisting everything I said, always making it seem like I was the one in the wrong.
I didn't bother responding. Instead, I just glared at him, my eyes locked on his smug face, trying my best to reign in the anger that was bubbling up inside me. He met my gaze for a moment longer, the cocky grin still in place.
I could feel the low simmer of rage building within me. I wasn't going to enjoy this year. Between dealing with his insufferable presence and the chaos that seemed to follow us wherever we went, there was no way in hell I could ever enjoy a year like this.
But no matter how much he pissed me off, no matter how much I hated the fact that I had to deal with him, I couldn't escape the reality of the situation. And that reality was far worse than anything I had to endure in this moment.