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“Professor,” I manage, my posture rigid.

“Care to share what Mr. Vaskari said?”

Oh, no you don’t. No fucking way am I throwing Lukaz under the bus. Merda was shamed for arriving late and not closing the door properly. What will he do to Lukaz upon discovering he called him a prick?

“No, Professor.”

“No?” he questions again, the muscle of his jaw begging to tick, but it’s strung so tight, it is bound to snap. The man could crack walnuts with that mandible. He pushes off the desk and prowls toward ours. He situates himself between Lukaz and me, his intoxicating scent of Tonka bean and woody amber both rich and decadent. I swear the students in front of us are about to pass out, given the proximity of his ass to their own. I can picture it straining in his tight pants, only to will the image far from my mind for risk of further wrath. Lucifer is not to be fucked with. Noted.

“Mr. Vaskari, Ms. Aldereyne. Let me inform both of you that I will not stand for insubordination either. If you cannot abide by the rules I mentioned earlier, or be present in my laboratory with a civil tongue, I can remove it and keep it in a jar of formalin if you’d like?”

It’s unclear whether he is, in fact, joking. Neither Lukaz nor I dare move. We sit rigid, eyes facing forward beyond the hulking shoulders of Professor Wyldan.

Tali is sprawled on the couch when I return to our shared dorm. Residing on campus is part of the conditions of the scholarship. When Lukaz follows me in, she doesn’t bat an eyelid.

“Hey, Luk. Did your last class just finish, too?”

“Yup,” he mutters, sinking into the single chair. That leaves me the option of wedging myself into the space Tali’s long limbs haven’t already claimed, or the floor. I choose the latter.

“Which was?” she queries, muting the television so Lukaz can answer.

“Systematics with Wyldan.”

She squeals, jumping upright and bouncing in place. I take the opportunity to scramble onto the end cushion, as far from her clapping and bouncing as possible, because there is no cause for celebration. At all.

“Oh, you’re with Pen. Lucky ducks. How was he?”

Her gorgeous waves sway with her childlike giddiness. Every freckle seems to glow as her cheeks burst the most gorgeous pink to match her hair.

“Tali, did you say the man is newly divorced?”

“I think so. I’m pretty sure I heard he was married to some Russian tennis star, or ballerina, or gymnast. I don’t know, and I don’t care. All I care about is that he’s single.”

“And he’s all yours,” Lukaz and I say together. “The man is a fried fucking butthole. He’s rude and obnoxious and has no social skills.”

Her lip sticks out in the most adorable pout. “Do you think he was nervous?”

Lukaz scoffs. “Nervous? I know he’s some hotshot professor who has returned to the university bearing his family name to save us all from the suffering of inadequate tutelage, but Pen’s right, the guy is a dickhole.”

Tali looks set to leap to Wyldan’s defense, before realizing she’s outnumbered. Luk is right; Wyldan was a dick without provocation. Arriving sixteen seconds after the professor isn’t grounds for a public stoning.

“Relax,” she sighs. “It’s week one. They must have frayed nerves and a heap of course content in their brains. Plus, there is the Larch coming up…”

“Why would the Larch have any faculty stressed out? It’s for students,” Luk adds.

“That’s the rumor,” Tali says, a hint of excitement framing her features. “When my brother was here, he swore there were faculty in those Larches. He wasn’t great with names because he studied a different stream, but he was adamant he saw a masked Larcher leaving the staffroom.”

“Bullshit,” Luk spits. “That’s how boring stories get embellished into urban myths. Who would Larch? Dean Grundy?”

Both Tali and I snort with derision and disgust. I met Dean Grundy during my brief orientation. As if summoned by a smoke signal, he appeared just as my information packet was handed over. The registrar hollered “Aldereyne” at the top of her lungs like she expected woodland creatures to appear. No cute bunnies or squirrel folk, just the Dean and his receding hairline dotted with liver spots.

“That man wouldn’t run if a bear was on his ass,” Tali giggles.

“To be fair, running with absorbent underwear on wouldn’t be easy,” Luk adds.

“Especially if it was full,” Tali clarifies.

“Ew, stop. No one wants Dean Grundy pursuing them through a forest, right? But other staff? Surely not. The insurance alone would be prohibitive.”