The cover readLife through Death: A Study on Necrotic Botany.
"Ah, thank you, Professor! For the kind words and the book, it sounds very interesting. Thank you for thinking of me." I had never mentioned my interest in botany in front of him—I wondered how he knew.
"Your mastery of the forms we've been studying that you demonstrated today was not unexpected, but nonetheless impressive," he said, and I tried not to lose myself in the compliment.
"Well, I was trying to put my best foot forward. It's not every day I get to duel in front of a necromancer as distinguished as you are." It was true; I'd wanted him to see me at my best. My mind raced, searching for some way to shift this conversation–I had an opportunity to signal my interest in him, if I didn’t manage to completelysquander it.
"My dear, I hope you don't mean to say you are intimidated by me," the Professor said with the hint of a warm smile. I noticed the faint outline of his skull showing through his face; just barely, so subtle that it could have been no more than a trick of the light.
"I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit intimidated, but really I just wanted to impress you." The words were out before I could stop them. Apparently I had decided to take the awkward, brutally honest approach to this situation. I immediately wanted to find somewhere to run and hide as the moment following my declaration stretched.
"Adept Letum, you hardly need to try to impress me. You are a wonder; talented, bright, and ruthless."
I could hardly believe what he'd just said. We stared at each other for a heartbeat before I reached to take the book from him. I could feel my face flushing. I couldn't decide if I wanted him to notice or not.
Being in his study had me imagining myself sitting on his desk, his hips pressing into mine, his hands exploring my body. My arousal at my daydream was heady, and I fought to stay in the moment.
Professor Excidium's face remained pleasant, but I noticed his eyes dart down to my lips, my neck.
"You can call me Iris, Professor. I'm not a particularly formal person, so it feels odd to be addressed by my title."
"If that is the case, you must call me Benedict."
"Benedict." I tested his name, and the look on his face shifted almost imperceptibly. Was that lust or longing? Both? I couldn't be sure.
"Iris, it's been a pleasure, but you must excuse me. I have another class beginning soon."
He bowed his head slightly as he stepped back around his desk and gesturedfor the door.
"Of course, thank you for the book, Professor," I answered, trying to sound casual and not at all like I'd just been imagining his hands between my legs.
"Until tomorrow, then…Iris," he said, and goosebumps covered my arms. I nodded, and turned to make my way through the labyrinthine halls of the Academy.
Chapter 4
Every moment of thatbrief exchange inBenedict'sstudy turned over and over in my mind for a week. Calling him that still felt a bit scandalous. I had wanted to show him my interest, but it seemed I had not succeeded. We fell back into our regular rhythm of...well, nothing at all, really.
The class had not had another day of practical applications in the training ring, so my usual ogling of the Professor from my seat in his class had resumed.
Every now and then, though, I thought I caught him staring back.
It was nearing the halfway mark of the academic year, and I found myself frequenting the library more and more. It was the best place to focus on my studies, and I had several research papers to complete and examinations to prepare for.
One such night, I was at the small table I preferred particularly late. The library was available for use at all hours, but I hadn't heard anyone else shuffling around near me for at least an hour. The table I sat at was in a corner of the main floor, not too far from Benedict's study. Calling him that still felt odd, even in my mind.
My preference for that spot had less to do with its proximity to his study—or so I told myself—and more to do with the fact that the table was obscured from the view of the rest of the library by several rows of stacks.
I sighed and took a sip of my now-cold tea, pulling my list of references out. There were a few books I still needed to locate andreview before I assembled an outline for my next project.
I decided to pullA Comprehensive History of Necrotic Alchemy; it shouldn't be far from where my table was located. I rose from my chair, savoring the feel of my movement as I stretched my arms above my head.
I wrote the call number on a small bit of parchment—I would never remember it the moment I turned away—and began scanning the signs posted at the end of each row of shelves. The number I was looking for was, blessedly, just a few rows away. I walked down the long aisle, my eyes scanning the beautiful spines of the library's collection.
When I neared the end of the row, I realized I was coming up on the main path through this portion of the stacks. I heard footsteps approaching, and poked my head around the end of the row to see who was approaching. Best not to startle any dangerous necromancers around all the books.
A pulse of excitement struck me below my sternum as I took in the form of the man approaching. It was Professor Excidium.
Despite the late hour, he looked just as put-together as always. His silver hair perfectly in place, his necromancer's robes free of wrinkles, and his usual set of rings all still upon his strong fingers.
