“A stolas.” He shrugged, then ran a hand through his already mussed hair. “An owl demon. That’s what you saw.”
My throat constricted around a nervous gulp.
“A demon?” My head shook slowly, disbelieving what he was telling me.
“One of many. And if you were smart, as I believe you are, you’ll stop going out at night when they’re active.”
It couldn’t be real. In all my life there had never been any truth to myths or legends of vampires, werewolves, or ghosts. All fiction and story. Nothing genuine amidst all the folklorecirculating around the world. And I was supposed to believe him when he told me the opposite?
“Demons aren’t real,” I whispered.
“They are, Miss Ashcroft.” He stood in front of me, stealing into my personal space and drowning me with the dark blue of his eyes. A sharp shiver cut down my spine. “They are real. Very real, and you are in very real danger.”
I paled, trembling as a fresh wave of hysteria surged within me. A terrible lightning storm bolted through me from head to toes, and my stomach threatened to heave despite being empty. It wasn’t possible and they couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening, but why…
“Why me?” I voiced the question drilling a hole in my skull.
Professor Quinn sighed heavily. He ran his knuckle along the line of my jaw before crooking a warm finger under my chin and lifting my face. An unconscious tremble wracked through me and my exhale thinned into a silent whine.
“To my detriment, you seem to be highly sought after.” His thumb swiped across my bottom lip. “And I don’t intend to share.”
Little flutters swept in and bullied away my logistical side. All I wanted was to sink into the touch, the pressure of his skin on mine, and relish the contact. But suspicion trapped me in a whirlpool I couldn’t swim out of. Those thoughts needled at me and his hand on my face wasn’t reassuring enough to help.
I placed my hands on his chest and stepped away. His hand fell, a mask slammed over his expression, and the distance froze me to the bone. I would have preferred to burrow into his clothes and inhabit them with him, but I needed to shake his enthralling presence off and think clearly.
“No… No, that’s not good enough.” I crossed my arms to hide the shaking in my hands. “What do you mean youwere hunting them? Are you some kind of… demon hunter or something?”
A broken laugh breached him. “A demon hunter? Don’t be tedious, Miss Ashcroft. It’s beneath you.”
“You said you were hunting them!”
He directed his annoyance at me. “Something like that.” Then he became tight lipped, shifting from foot to foot and avoiding eye contact. It gave me the impression he was holding back information.
“It’s…” he sighed, fighting back a scowl, “it’s complicated. There’s a lot to explain.”
A gentle scoff escaped my throat.
I stood there, feeling his come seeping into my underwear while the aftershocks of panic invaded every cell of my being. A ripple of exhaustion weighed down on my shoulders and a bitter laugh followed.
“I can’t do this right now.” Fatigue tore through the seams of my composure, and I think he realized it. I saw his throat bob on a harsh swallow before he carded a hand through his dark hair.
He didn’t speak, and I turned for the door.
An iron grip snapped around my wrist, halting me in my tracks.
“You should have listened to me a month ago when I tried to warn you—”
I snatched my hand from his grasp, fully outraged.
“You should have told me something believable! Not this crap about bird monsters! Do you even hear yourself?” My arms flailed as I raged at him. “Are you out of your mind? A professor who hunts demons and fucks his students. Great. This is what my life has become. Justfuckinggreat.”
Silence tumbled in after my tirade faded. Arms crossed, gaze on the floor, I pressed my back to the office door, aware of his presence but hesitant to face him. I pouted, battling theurge to weep between my upturned emotions, hunger, and need for sleep. If I didn’t get a break soon I feared being declared clinically insane.
A foul mood settled over me.
I turned into a feral cat, hackles raised, and lip curled as I prepared to hiss at him. It was all too much. And I was too damn tired. The thought of this interaction turning into a fight had me on the verge of angry tears, and I needed to redirect my focus away from the mess of it all.
“Look, Ophelia,” his tone had softened into smooth butter, “you’re clearly tired and overwhelmed. You should eat something.”
