The Beta's Forbidden Mate

Chapter Five

On Friday afternoon, I sat behind my desk, watching the minutes tick down until the end of class and the beginning of the weekend. My students sat at theirs as well, impatiently waiting to be allowed to run wild.

It had been four days since I had met Asher in the bar, and as hard as I tried to put him out of my mind once and for all, every dark-haired man that I passed reminded me of him. And every night I dreamed of his eyes—that strange, amber-yellow gleam I'd seen that night in the alley.

That was nothing. Just a trick of the light,, I reminded myself.

It was dark. You're letting your imagination get away from you.

Except I know what I saw.

"Hey! Mrs. Mason, Joey stole my ball!"

"I did not! This is mine!"

The sound of arguing voices snapped me out of my thoughts. Two of my students were arguing in the back row over a small red bouncy ball that one of them was holding.

"Give it back!" One of them cried, a skinny, tow-headed kid named Mitchell.

"It's mine! I found it!" The other, Joey, yelled.

I sighed and stood from my desk. "What's going on?"

"Joey took my ball!" The first boy cried again.

"I didn't take it. I found it under the cupboards!"

"Because I dropped it you asshole!" Mitchell said, reaching for the toy.

"Hey!" I said, striding forward. "Language. Now let's see if we can sort this out."

But apparently Mitchell had had enough. I was only a few feet away when he stopped reaching for the ball and instead curled his thin hand into a fist and socked Joey right in the face.

"No!" I cried out, running forward.

Joey gave a loud howl of pain, clutching his nose. I saw in horror that a thin trail of blood was seeping through his fingers.

Mitchell took the opportunity to grab his ball back, but I gave him a stern look and held out my hand, and he sheepishly dropped it into my palm. I pocketed it and turned back to Joey.

"Are you alright?" I asked him, stooping to see him better. He was fighting back tears, acutely aware of the fact that the whole class was watching him.

"Miss Mason?"

I froze then turned, my heart sinking, toward my classroom door. "Hello, Principal Boehn."

My boss had his arms crossed over his chest, his caterpillar eyebrows drawn together in a harsh frown. "What exactly is going on here?"

Why could he never pop in during my brilliant moments? When I had the whole class moving in perfect concert? Why always at the worst possible time?

It's like he had some kind of radar.

"It's nothing, sir," I said, trying to focus on Joey. The blood had already stopped, and I sent a brief thank-you that Mitchell had a lousy arm.

"Mmmmm," he said in response. He glowered at us for another moment then strolled away, presumably to haunt someone else's classroom. But a few minutes later, the blessed final bell rang, sending my students scattering to the winds.

"Hold it right there!" I said as my two troublemakers tried to sneak out with the rest.

I gave both boys a stern lecture and threatened to call their parents if I saw any more physical violence, then sent them chastened to their buses.