For years, my primary focus was on dark matter—the unknown material of the universe that binds entire galaxies together, wrapping the fabric of space with an invisible, mysterious pull.
My research has since evolved, drawn to an even darker mystery surrounding black holes, and the paradoxical theory that information is never truly lost.
My efforts to define these things we cannot see or touch have gone well beyond obsession. When you dedicate more than your academic career to the relentless pursuit of such all-consuming forces, you become something of the essence you cannot explain.
Hidden. Unknown. Warped.
And it would seem that for the second time in my life, I’ve been ensnared by a mysterious, all-consuming force.
Coming to a stop at the sign, my gaze catches on the woman crossing onto the sidewalk.
For one breathless beat, I’m suspended as I watch her, the world narrowing until all that exists is her soft silhouette outlined by the rain, the hurried cadence of her steps. I’m annoyed by the fact that I notice her—that I can’t stop noticing her.
And right now, I’m furious over the sight of her drenched, sheltering beneath her briefcase. Livid that, even in her disheveled state, she’s still so fucking beautiful she stops my heart.
The blare of a horn jolts me out of my stupor.
“Fuck,” I mutter beneath my helmet. Just as I rev the engine and roll forward, her briefcase slips and splashes into a puddle, and I’m hit with an irrational surge of anger.
With a hard twist of the throttle, I swerve into the left lane, ignoring the irritated honk from the car behind as I pull my bike up to the curb.
My gaze never leaves Collins as she treks through the puddle toward the university gate. Fury pulsing through my veins, I drop the kickstand and throw my leg over before I reach into my pack.
I start in her direction, taking in her drenched hair, her thin black coat clinging to her body. As my determined steps close the distance, I hear her breathy curse as she rattles the locked gate, her breath fogging the damp air around her.
She ducks her head to start around, and I step into her path, effectively blocking her escape.
Startled, Collins brings a hand to her chest, her gaze lifting to my black visor as a shiver rolls through her. She’s soaked, dark strands framing her face, nude lips pale—and too damn tempting.
The flash of fear crossing her pretty face is unmistakable, and it ignites something hot and reckless in my blood. My gloved hand curls into a fist, muscles coiling tight.
As I step closer, uncertainty draws her features together. Her mouth parts, her eyes widen a fraction, and my pulse riots as she takes a reflexive step back.
Fuck, don’t run.
Just as she extends her hand—I thrust the umbrella into her open palm.
Her gaze cast upward, wet lashes blinking against the rain, I glimpse a shimmer of gold there, like a star breaking a teal sky. As her fingers slowly curl around the black steel handle, I back away, escaping to my bike just as quickly.
Satisfaction thrums through my vessels as I maneuver ahead of traffic, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth when I pass Collins on the sidewalk, now sheltered beneath the black canopy of my umbrella.
And the adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream—fucking euphoric.
If I feed the cravings just enough, I can offset the restlessness. I can’t starve them; they only grow hungrier, more demanding, until the pain in my skull is all I can feel, the roar all I can hear. But little hits stave off the worst of the urges.
I pull into my parking space and kill the engine. Rain falls in a steady rhythm as I sit back on the seat, bracing my hands on my thighs. My fingers tap out a habitual count, waiting until I see Collins cross into the covered colonnade before I dismount and cut across the quad with quick strides, rain pelting my helmet and jacket.
Face tilted toward the looming gargoyles that frame the stone arches, I climb the campus steps toward the entrance. I remove my helmet and rake my gloved fingers through my hair, the scent of wet leather clinging to my clothes. Statues and stonework echo my heavy footsteps as I wind through the labyrinth of dark corridors, turning down the main hall.
The gray morning filters in through arched windows where, just beneath, I spot Leo standing sentry near the grand staircase, his posture stiff.
Hot tension twists around my spine, and I rub the ache in my wrist as I pass him. “Not today.”
“Not any day,” he fires back, trailing after me. “Dr. Holbrook told me you’ve yet to attend a session.”
As though speaking her name alone will summon her, Collins appears at the top of the landing. Rain still dampens her hair. My umbrella is anchored to her wrist, dripping to the stone. She clutches a mug of coffee, engrossed in conversation with Professor Fallon from the physics department.
The sounds of chatter and rushing students fall to a hush as I come to a stop and lean against a stone pillar. Helmet resting on my thigh, I stare up at her, my gaze wandering over her sexy skirt suit, her arm tucked close around her trim waist. Her head tips back and she smiles, laughs, and something foreign tightens beneath my ribs.
