“I’ll prove it.”

Luca lunged under the table.

Darcy skittered back along the floor, but soon ran out of space to run when the wall met her shoulder blades. He caged her in beneath the desk, his oversized hands tracing her hips. She flattened her skirt with trembling hands, and a quiet laugh rumbled against her cheek. Darcy jerked her face away from his with a whimper.

He dragged it back by the chin, two fingers pinching almost firm enough to hurt. His face drew in close again. The golden tones of his skin, hair and eyes warmed her inside. She squeezed her eyes shut and folded her lips inwards. She couldn’t let his being her soul-mate sway the situation - she was angry with him. A handsome face wouldn’t change that. He pried her mouth open with sheer force of his tongue, inviting himself inside to play with hers roughly.

Darcy used all of her concentration to try and force her body to go limp against him. It only served to Luca’s advantage, though, as his chest bumped hers, knocking her further and further into the ground until she was almost flat. When he curled his tongue around hers, her knees jolted towards each other and her thighs shivered reflexively. He pushed his way between them and moulded their fronts together. A full body tremble ran through Darcy before she could suppress it. It was hopeless. Her body was built to respond to his. Ignoring him would always be an impossibility. Fingertips tickled under the hem of her skirt, raising goosebumps along the skin of her thighs. Darcy twisted beneath him, struggling against his weight above her.

She raised her hands from the ground, no longer using them now that she had been pressed flat beneath his bulk. Her palms had no impact against him no matter how hard she pressed them against his shoulders. Pushing him away while her mate maturity instincts screamed to pull him closer. The open-mouthed kiss became loud, filling the room with indulgent, wet noises. The itch came back to Darcy’s fingers, desperate to sink them lower and feel under his shirt. The more she fought with herself, the less energy she was putting into fighting Luca. He took the opportunity to claim full control of her mouth.

She melted beneath him.

Staving off your basic instincts was tiring. Darcy soaked up his dirty affection as he dished it into her mouth directly. He ground between her legs gently, coaxing timid noises from her. She was both too hot and not hot enough in equal measure. She wanted to be his temperature, to synchronise herself body and mind with her mate. Perfect soul balance.

When he finally pulled back, Darcy was panting.

“A kiss doesn’t prove anything,” she managed to gasp out.

The steamy, glazed look in his eyes was blinked away and he fell back onto his heels with a frown. His head almost bumped the tabletop above them.

“What do you want from me?” Luca growled. “How do I convince you? Because I know that MYSTIKA is genuine. I may not be eighteen yet, but…” He gestured to himself with both hands, unable to convey whatever horny teenage boy emotion he was feeling and apparently confusing for mate maturity.

“If you believe I’m your mate, stop making fun of me to anyone who will listen,” she snapped. Darcy really didn’t think it was that wild of a concept to expect someone not to poke at your insecurities if they cared about you. But especially not in public. “You can’t be my bully and claim to be my soul-mate! If you were really my mate you’d-” She snatched her tongue back into her mouth and pinched her lips. She almost hadn’t caught herself, riled up in the heat of the moment, the heat of his body looming over hers.

“I’d what?”

Darcy could barely squeak the words out. Humiliation was burning through her blood and she felt feverish before even opening her mouth. “You’d protect me from people who pick on me.” She snatched up the collar of her sweater and pulled it up over her face. She never wanted to look him in the eyes again. That was one of her most secret desires, for her mate to protect and defend her against all the cruelty of the world. Especially as an omega. A stupid damsel-in distress desire.

But Luca was a bully, and he always would be. If he wanted to change, he would have. Kidding herself would only lead to more hurt. And she already hurt so much.

Luca spoke quietly, “I would never let someone pick on my mate.”

Darcy scoffed without thinking. “You pick on me,” she said, dropping her collar slightly to pull a face at him over it. Forgetting, momentarily, that in the lie she was living within, she was supposed to be unconvinced that they were mates.

His face pinched. She scrunched her nose in return. It was meant to be a rude gesture. A tiny smile tickled at his mouth.

“I tease you,” he said slowly. “There’s a difference.”

“Is that what you were doing before?”

“Before, in the hall?”

“You know the before I’m talking about,” she whispered with barely contained fury. Playing the fool did not look good on him, it only frustrated her.

His eyes flicked away uncomfortably. “I don’t want to talk about… before,” he admitted.

“But there’s no difference between before and now,” she said. “That’s the problem.”

“If you don’t like something, then say it.”

Darcy collated her last drops of courage to reply, “I’m telling you now.” Her voice somehow managed to stay stern.

“No, I mean at the time,” Luca said with an eye-roll. “Tell me to fuck off or something.”

Darcy froze, her eyebrows raised to the heavens. When she finally found where she had left her tongue (unfortunately, not in Luca’s mouth) she sputtered out, “You would kill me. Or your goons would.”

“I won’t,” Luca groaned. Apparently he was as tired of this argument as Darcy was, despite not having nearly as much reason as she did to be frustrated. In her opinion, anyway. “You’ve proved you can be sassy, and you can yell at me-”

“That has only happened when we were alone and you really wound me up! I can’t do that in public.” She shook her head with exasperation. “Because nothing is different between us in public. Even since MYSTIKA you’ve only changed in private with me.”

“We’ve agreed it now, right? So it will change, because you’ll stick up for yourself.”

“Our last agreement fell apart quicker than a jenga tower,” she reminded him. “Why should I trust this one?”

“Because this isn’t just a competition or a trade. It’s forever. You’ll stick up for yourself from now on.”

“I’ll stick up for myself and you’ll get ten times worse,” she assured him with a sigh. “You hate when people challenge you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled to himself. “But… you’re an exception.”

Darcy hated how much she loved those last three words.

“Okay,” she mumbled to herself. It took her a moment to steel herself for her first attempt at what Luca was calling ‘sticking up for herself’. “Okay, then fuck off.”

“Right now?”

“Yep, leave me alone.”

He scoffed, full of mirth, and shook his head. “Fine, if that’s what you want.” He shuffled backwards and pulled himself up by the edge of the table.

Once he had taken a few steps away, Darcy blurted, “I’ve changed my mind.”

His laugh echoed through the room before he dipped back down to peer under the tabletop.

“Actually no,” she said with an extra helping of attitude. “Your face grossed me out. Go away again.”

He pitched forward, landing on his hands and knees on the floor, hanging his head as he laughed delightfully. “I can’t believe an omega is saying this to me.” He kept laughing, harder. It began to prickle Darcy with anxiety. It reminded her of cartoon villains.

“You’re laughing too much,” she complained. “It’s making me nervous, like you’re about to have a psychotic break and murder me.”

“So Queen Darcy’s next order is to stop laughing?”

“No, it’s still to get out.”

“Your wish is my command, your highness.”

And her command was obeyed. He closed the classroom door behind him with a click that could be heard from Darcy’s hiding corner.

Darcy drew her knees up to her chin and counted to fifty. More than enough time for Luca to scram. After crawling out from under the table, she shuffled to the door and peeked out. No sign of him. She slipped out and had a Luca-free afternoon. It was both blissful and anxiety-inducing. Her mind was glad to be putting that distance between them. Her body missed his touch, his scent, his voice.

And who knew what was to come next. It seemed regardless of any progress she thought she was making, nothing ever really changed. A leopard couldn’t change its spots and neither could a wolf its fur.