The guy next to him said something, and he snapped his attention back to him. But not before I saw his right hand curl into a fist at his side.
“Violet?”
I jerked my gaze back to Kane. “Sorry, what?”
“I said I'll text you on Wednesday to confirm we’re still on. That cool?”
“Yeah, that's perfect."
“Awesome." He grinned and gave me a small wave. “See you then!”
He jogged off toward the science buildings, and I was left standing there, my phone still in my hand, hyperaware of Julian's presence.
I knew I should walk away. Should do literally anything but acknowledge him. But I couldn't help it. I turned, just slightly, and our eyes met across the quad.
He held my gaze for a long, charged moment. Then he deliberately looked away, turning his full attention back to his companions like I didn't exist.
I turned and walked away quickly, my heart pounding, my thoughts a chaotic mess.
What was wrong with me? Why did I even care if Julian was jealous? Why did some twisted part of melikethat he'd looked at me like that; like he wanted to cross the quad and drag me away from Kane?
This was dangerous. Not just physically dangerous, but emotionally dangerous too.
I took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts aside, trying to concentrate on my next steps. My meeting with Professor Piermont was happening soon in Demeter Hall, andthatwas far more important than whatever stupid, irrational feelings I was having about Julian Valcourt.
Demeter Hall was one of the older buildings on campus, all dark wood paneling with the smell of old books. Piermont's office was on the third floor, tucked at the end of a narrow corridor lined with dusty portraits of former faculty members.
I knocked on the door marked 304.
“Come in,” he called out.
His office was exactly what I'd expected. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with leather-bound volumes, papers stacked on every available surface, and a single narrow window letting in weak afternoon light.
Professor Piermont sat behind an enormous mahogany desk, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.
He was older than I'd imagined, with silver hair and the kind of face that suggested he'd spent his life buried in research.
“Miss Calloway?” he asked, not standing.
“Yes. Thank you for meeting with me, Professor.”
He gestured to the chair across from him, and I sat, suddenly aware of how small I felt in this room full of ancient knowledge and academic authority.
“Dean Weiss said you wanted to discuss one of my articles,” he said, his tone polite but distant.
“Actually…” I pulled a ring from my bag; the one from Cal's pocket with the minotaur symbol. “I wanted to ask you about this. I've emailed you several times over the past few months, but—"
He cut me off. “I didn't respond to those emails for a reason,” he said. His voice was flat, final. “I know nothing about that subject, so it would be a waste of my time and yours.”
I blinked. “But you're an expert in ancient symbolism. If anyone would know—”
He cut me off again. "I said I don’t know.” He removed his glasses and set them on the desk with deliberate care. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Frustration flared in my chest. “What about the Dionysus Club? What do you know about them?”
The temperature in the room suddenly seemed to drop. Piermont's expression didn't change, but something shifted behind his eyes. Fear, maybe. Or caution.
“I only know what everyone else knows,” he said. “The basics about their recruitment, and their annual hunting game. A few rumors here and there. That’s all.”
