“Why not?” He took another step closer, close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “I’m a consenting adult. You’re a consenting adult. And we both know there’s unfinished business between us.”
“You’re my student,” I said weakly, though even as the words left my mouth, I was remembering the way he’d felt pressed against me in that alley, the desperate sounds he’d made when I’d stretched him open.
“I’m auditing one class,” he corrected, reaching out to toy with the zipper of my fencing jacket. “That hardly makes me your student in any traditional sense.”
His fingers brushed against my chest through the fabric, and I had to bite back a groan. Days of sexual frustration and constant thoughts of him had left me wound tighter than a spring, and his casual touches were unraveling me faster than I could rebuild my defenses.
“Archer,” I warned, though it came out more like a plea than a threat.
“What?” His blue eyes were wide with fake innocence even as his hand flattened against my chest. “I’m just talking to my professor about my educational goals. It’s all very academic.”
“This is not academic and you fucking know it.”
“Prove it.” The challenge in his voice made my fangs ache with the urge to bite, to mark, to claim, to show him who was in charge. “If this is just about academics, then you shouldn’t have any problem being alone with me. Should you, Professor?”
The little shit was calling my bluff, and we both knew it. Every rational part of my brain was screaming at me to walk away, to maintain the boundaries that kept us both safe. But my body had other ideas. I could smell his arousal mixing with the lingering scent of exertion, could hear the slight hitch in his breathing that told me he was just as affected as I was.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” I said, my control hanging by the thinnest of threads.
“Don’t I?” He pressed closer, and I could feel the firm line of his cock through his fencing whites. “Because I remember exactly what you’re capable of, Valen. And I want it again.”
I swallowed hard, barely maintaining control. “If you want history lessons, we can work something out,” I said at last, taking a step back from him. “Anything else is off the table.”
His smile faltered, but he didn’t back down. Not even a little. “Extra lessons would be amazing,” he replied, taking another step forward. “Like I said, I think there’s a lot more you can teach me.”
“The only thing you’re getting taught is history. I’m not interested in anything else with a headstrong witch like you.”
Something flickered in his eyes at that, something that looked almost like hurt before it was replaced by determination. “Fine,” he said, stepping back just enough to give me breathing room. “History lessons it is.”
I should have felt relieved. Instead, I felt oddly disappointed, which was fucking ridiculous. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? Professional boundaries maintained, no complications, no risk to either of our futures.
“Good,” I said, though the word tasted bitter. “We can meet in my office. Tuesdays and Thursdays after your regular class. One-hour sessions.”
“Perfect.” He was already moving toward the door, but he paused with his hand on the handle. “Just so we’re clear about these history lessons, Professor. Will they cover all aspects of vampire culture? Or just the sanitized version they put in textbooks?”
The question caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if I’m going to learn about vampire integration into magical society, shouldn’t I understand all the challenges they faced? The prejudices, the misconceptions, the way their basic needs were misunderstood or demonized?” His blue eyes met mine directly, and there was something almost challenging in his gaze. “How can I fully appreciate the historical context without understanding what vampires actually are? What they require to survive?”
My mouth went dry. He was asking about feeding. About the types of energy vampires like me needed to sustain ourselves. Either he was more perceptive than I’d given him credit for, or he was fishing for information about what had really happened between us in that alley.
“That’s... a complex topic,” I managed.
“I’m a complex student.” He smiled, and this time it was purely innocent. “I’ll see you Thursday, Professor. For my first lesson.”
Then he was gone, leaving me alone in the salle with the lingering scent of his pheromones and the uncomfortable realization that I’d just agreed to spend even more time alone with him. Time that was supposedly about history but felt like it was going to be about so much more.
I sank down onto one of the benches, running my hands through my hair. What the hell was I doing? This was exactly theopposite of what I should be doing. I should be avoiding him, not scheduling private meetings in my office where anything could happen.
But the alternative, watching him from across classrooms and fencing practice, wanting him and never being able to touch him again… that felt like torture. At least this way, I could maintain some semblance of control over the situation. Keep things academic. Professional.
Even so, every instinct I had was screaming that Archer Quinn had no intention of keeping anything professional at all.
Chapter 12
Archer
“Concentrate, Mr. Quinn,” Professor Blackwood said, her and the rest of the class standing outside of the summoning circle. “Complete your circle and speak the incantation to summon your air elemental.”
