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My stomach falls. Well, at least he’s saying my name, even if his voice sounds the deepest I’ve ever heard. “No one important.” I try to stand, but he shoves me back down on the desk so that he’s looming over me. “Tell me and I’ll decide whether or not it’s important.” “Fuck. Can I sit down first?” He lets me, then steps between my legs, his hand still on my jaw, not allowing me to look anywhere but at him. “I’m waiting,” he says when I don’t speak, his eyes looking more intense than a fucking nuke. Jeez. I let out a long sigh. “I had a teacher who came into our house, Mr. Laurent. He taught me and Killian French. I was around ten at the time and was already beginning to realize that my brother and I were different from other kids. But Kill still managed to make all the teachers like him, while I was always alone, feeling suffocated by humans. Laurent saw it differently. He always praised me in front of my parents and told me I was smart and brighter than Kill. It was the first time a