by Lyla Oweds
Ms. McKinnen had the weekend off, so the bulk of my research would have to wait. I had awkwardly asked the volunteer at the desk, but she had been no help. Besides, I didn’t want to make too big of a deal out my search. I didn’t want Professor Hamway to hear of any weird tales about me when she returned.
So research on sensitives, mediums and the like had become my agenda for the day.
I moseyed around the library before I found a private cubicle near the cultural reference section and set up base there. Thanks to the prestige of our anthropology and psychology departments, we had an impressive collection of paranormal reading material available.
Unfortunately, hours flew by and the only thing I had gained from my time was a cold mocha latte and even more confusion about the subject matter than when I had begun.
The texts were all theoretical, and information varied based on culture and topic. So, in the end, none of the research had been helpful in gaining an understanding of myself.
Damen probably knew the answers to my questions. However, I had dramatically burned that bridge the day before. But not knowing—and knowing that they did know—was making it hard to resist the urge to approach them again. Even if Titus was a lumberjack mafia member, would Damen really let him kill me?
I doodled on the edge of my paper, sighing. I wasn’t ready to be brave yet. I’d exhaust all other avenues of information first. Because the fear for my life had lessened, knowing I was dealing with a child, but the embarrassment of seeing them again had not.
But in the end, was my pride worth more than answers?
First, I should check the library in town, and then evaluate my remaining options.
“Are you Miss Brosnan?”
I jumped, almost snapping my pencil in two as I spun in my seat to see who had called me.
I saw an elderly woman a few feet away, wringing her hands. She wore a floral print dress, complete with an old-lady sweater and dark tights. Her white hair was pinned back into a grandmotherly bun, but the style did nothing to tame the flyaways that surrounded her face. She was taller than me, but thin and frail. However, her eyes were sharp beneath her gold-rimmed glasses.
She was probably here to chastise me for sneaking in a beverage, which was technically not allowed.
“I’m so sorry!” I apologized, grabbing my cup as I shot to my feet. “I’ll get rid of it right now.”
“What?” She seemed confused before she spotted the white container in my hand. “Oh, no dear. I don’t care about that.”
Now I was confused. Why would someone be looking for me in the library? Who was she?
“I heard that you were searching for information on Professor Hamway’s home,” she said, surprising me. “I grew up in this town. So I know a lot of the city gossip.”
“Oh.” I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. I hadn’t been expecting to talk here. Plus, she was old and frail-looking. I should offer her a seat, but these weren’t the best chairs. “Um…”
She chuckled before tilting her head. “Come along, dear.” She turned and began to slowly hobble away, leaning heavily on her cane.
Now I felt even worse. She had searched the library for me?
She waved her free hand in the air, noticing that I wasn’t following her. “We’ll have a little chat in my office—just the two of us.”
She had an office? I still didn’t even know who she was.
“Wait,” I called out, rushing to gather my books and papers. Why was I so messy?
As I was shoving everything in my bag, she glanced back at me and her voice changed slightly. “Hurry now.”
Oh no, she was getting angry. “Okay, let me just—”
“Ms. Protean, fancy seeing you here.” Damen Abernathy’s decadent tones reached my ears, causing me to freeze in shock. A silent curse shot through my mind. Somehow, I hadn’t been able to avoid his velvety smooth voice and entrancing looks for as long as I had hoped.
I heard something resembling a growl, and I peeked around the cubicle. Damen stood nearby, but I didn’t think I was within his line of sight. He was smiling at the elderly woman. She had turned to face him as well, and I noticed her features no longer held grandmotherly softness.
She was glaring at him, but that didn’t seem to bother Damen at all as he continued. “It’s so rare to see you outside of your classroom and office. What brings you here today?”
I wasn’t ready for this. I had kicked Titus in the balls. I had also maced him. I needed more time.
Perhaps Damen being here was a coincidence. He might not even be aware that I was here at all. I was still hidden behind a cubicle.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow Miss Brosnan for a while.”
Darn it.
“Why?” Her voice was unexpectedly harsh. “I need her at the moment. We were about to have a discussion.”
“That’s not such a good idea.” Damen’s face was still the picture of politeness. “I was looking for you as well, to be honest. Cécile has escaped from your office and is causing havoc in the lunchroom. Brandon attempted to capture her, but he is now being treated in urgent care. As for Cécile, the last I saw, she was perched on the refrigerator and was clawing at the heads of any faculty member leaving or entering the room.”
Ms. Protean frowned. “Don’t lie. My Cécile is an angel. You must have mistaken her for someone else’s vile beast.”
“I doubt it,” Damen replied, his tone slightly icier. “I believe you are the only faculty member who owns a Persian with a bejeweled collar and pink claws.”
“My poor Cécile!” Ms. Protean covered her mouth in horror. “She must be so frightened.” She turned to me, apologetically. “I’m so sorry, dearest, but we need to reschedule. I must go before those brutes terrorize my innocent animal again.”
Damen raised an eyebrow, looking at her sardonically. She didn’t seem to notice. She was already off in a rush—more quickly than I thought possible, based on her appearance.
Damen focused on her retreat—he totally wasn’t paying attention to me. This could be my only opportunity for escape. I just needed space to compose myself before the inevitable confrontation.
I grabbed my packed bag and slipped into one of the aisles of bookcases. I had to be quick.
I hadn’t even made it ten feet down the narrow aisle before I was pulled to a halt. Damen gazed at me, amused, as he held firmly on to my backpack. “Where do you think you are going, baby girl?”
Chapter Seven
Kidnapped
Even though I struggled, Damen had a firm grip on my backpack and wasn’t letting go. I was trying to ignore him, but I’d lost momentum and I slipped backward on the laminate floor. He continued to pull me toward him until my back rested against the hardness of his chest.
I could no longer ignore my predicament. “Damen, what are you doing? Let me go!”
Perhaps he was more like Titus than I’d thought, and he needed a dosage of the same deterrent.
He chuckled. “I’m holding you this way so you can’t escape. And, also, so you can’t attempt any underhanded tricks.”
“If you mean what I did to Titus, there was nothing underhanded about that,” I retorted. “It was self-defense.”
This was the worst. He knew—Titus had tattled on me. And he was angry.
“It was hilarious,” Damen said. His voice was a purr next to my ear—making it hard for me to focus. “And well deserved, I will admit. Titus can be overbearing. However, with you, I’d rather play it safe.”
Who was overbearing now?
“But there’s something else to discuss first.” His breath was warm against my ear.
I tried to ignore the shivers that shot down my spine as I focused on his words. “What?”
“How do you know Ms. Protean?” he asked. “Why would she need to talk to you?”
His questions caught me off guard, and I turned back to him in confusion. His face was both intense and worried.
“What
does that have to do with anything?” I asked.
Damen sighed, releasing my backpack before turning me to face him. I hadn’t realized before now I had backed up to the end of the narrow aisle and was trapped between the edge of the bookshelf and his larger frame.
It should have been intimidating. Instead of being scared, I was only flustered. I couldn’t imagine why, because the only other person whoever made me feel this way was Finn…
Damen didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. “Ms. Protean,” he repeated. “What does she want with you?”
What was it to him, anyway? Did he loathe grandmotherly figures or something? But he seemed so concerned that I couldn’t get offended at the question. “She said she was going to help me. I was looking for some information.”
Damen gave me an appraising look. “Without me?”
Why did he have to seem so smug about this? It was as if he knew the effect he had on me. I opened my mouth to respond with something witty—which would probably have been embarrassing anyway—when the sounds of laughter drifted over from the next row.
The noise shattered the enchantment that had been cast over us, and my face burst with heat. There was no question as to how ridiculous we’d look to any passerby. The library was no place for games!
Damen’s gray eyes glinted mischievously—he must have had the same realization.
“Damen, let me go,” I hissed at him. But this only encouraged him, and he smiled, causing my heart to beat faster. “Someone is going to come down here and see us!”
“Really?” His grin grew wider. “So it’s all right if we don’t get caught, baby girl? Consider it noted.”
“No!” My mind screamed even though my words were a hiss. “You can’t play games with students. This is inappropriate. You are basically a professor.”
“Ah.” He ran his finger down my cheek. “But you aren’t my student.” His mouth dipped slightly. He tilted his head as his gaze continued to hold mine. “There’s just something about you.”
“Why are you so annoying?” I gritted out, trying to save face. Plus, was he kidding me with this? That sounded like a line from a cheesy romance novel. How many times had that worked for him in the past?
Finn’s stupid, horny brother. He could go flirt with someone else. No matter how much I wanted to lean into his touch, or melt under his scorching gaze—I wanted to poke him in the eyes that much more. What a quandary.
The sound of my name being called by a familiar voice saved Damen from getting hit where it hurt.
I tore my attention from Damen as I glanced in panic at the end of the aisle. This was the worst possible thing to happen. Finn could not know I was talking to his brother.
Finn called my name again, closer now. He was going to find us…
Damen, in the meantime, glanced over his shoulder—toward the direction of Finn’s voice. He frowned, muttering, “God, he still sounds like a douchebag. And not an ounce of courtesy, like he owns the place.” He didn’t seem all that concerned.
“Will you stop saying mean things?” I couldn’t stop the hysteria. “This is a disaster. Finn can’t find out I know you!”
“Why?” Damen’s eyes returned to me, flashing with something new. “Because you think he’d get angry?”
I didn’t think—I knew. And my heart raced at the thought.
There was a note of challenge in Damen’s voice, but there was something else too. It was almost as if he was hurt. It made me feel guilty on top of my fear. I had never wanted to hurt his feelings.
What was wrong with me?
I was just about to apologize, when he continued speaking—studying my face. “I’ll have you know my little brother doesn’t scare me.”
What did this mean? I was still trapped at the end of the aisle between him and the bookshelves. Finn could find us there at any second, and Damen didn’t seem to care. When that happened, Finn would not only know I had disregarded his wishes, but that I hadn’t listened to him about the other topic as well.
Every worst-case scenario flashed through my mind, and my breathing sped up.
“But he does scare you,” Damen said suddenly.
I blinked, his words crashing through my agonized thoughts. I was so fixated on Finn I had completely forgotten Damen was even there. Watching me.
He didn’t look very happy either—his face a mask of concern and fury. “Something stupid like this, and you’re afraid that you might anger him. What did he do to you?”
Oh no. No, no, no.
My eyes widened as I looked up at him. “I’m not scared,” I explained. “I’m just trying to prevent a confrontation. Can we leave, please? Before he finds us?”
Finn called out to me again. He had to be only seconds away from finding us.
I flinched. We had to move now.
“Liar.” Damen tore his gaze from mine and grabbed my hand. He seemed to have made up his mind. Stunned at his sudden action, I ended up just following along.
He pulled me after him, quickly approaching an opening between the bookcases to an adjacent doorway reserved for the library staff.
“I’ll help you,” he said, pulling me behind him. “But rest assured, we will be discussing this later. You deserve better than this.”
How…caring?
There wasn’t anything to do at this point but allow him to lead me through various hallways and down staircases until we exited the building. Damen pulled me after him into the faculty parking lot.
We were safe. But now where was Damen leading me?
“Wait.” I tugged my arm, but Damen’s grip was solid. He did, however, stop walking.
“Where are we going?”
He shot me an incredulous look. “Unless I’m mistaken, you said you didn’t want Finn to know you were with me. Am I right?”
“Yes, but I’m still with you,” I pointed out. “So, you are now kidnapping a university student. That won’t look good on your resume.”
One of his eyebrows shot up, and I mentally chastised myself for finding the action attractive. “Kidnapping?” he asked, amused.
“Yes.” I pointed at him with my free hand. “Don’t think I don’t know what you are up to. You still have revenge on your mind. Titus had it coming. What else was I supposed to do?”
Damen’s mouth twisted into a grin before he dropped my arm, turning to face me fully. “I know he had it coming, and I’m glad.”
I continued, arguing my point. I’d never admit I was wrong about what I’d done to Titus! He was harassing me! “I don’t regret it—” Then his words penetrated through my thoughts. “What?”
“A woman walking through an unknown neighborhood alone. If someone like Titus wouldn’t back off, then I’d have maced him too.” Damen was still grinning.
I frowned, recalling the secondary wrong I performed toward the aforementioned man. “But… I kicked him in the…male parts too,” I whispered.
Damen seemed as if he was about to burst out laughing. “Yes, but you were already uncomfortable. Plus”—he leaned in toward me and touched my nose with his finger—“it was funny. Actually, you fit in our group quite well. It’ll be helpful when we work together.”
I jerked back, covering my face with my hands. I couldn’t handle this much…flirting. That was what it was, right? I didn’t even know.
So this meant I wasn’t going to die? The mafia wouldn’t torture me for my wrongs? Still, Titus had to hate me. That hadn’t been a nice thing for me to do to him.
“How are…,” I trailed off, unsure of what to say. ‘Titus’s balls’ would have been crude, so I went with the next best phrasing. “How is Titus doing?”
Damen flung an arm over my shoulders as he led me through the parking lot. Now that I knew he wasn’t angry with me, I didn’t protest. For some reason, he seemed to want to hang out with me.
But since my panic abated, all I could focus on was him. The warm feeling of his arm over my shoulders. The way he towered over me, making me feel so small. And he rad
iated a comforting, musky scent that seemed to surround me.
He was nicely dressed too. He was scholarly, with his glasses and oxfords. His tweed jacket was tailored to his powerful form. Everything about his appearance seemed expensive.
I wondered how much money forensic psychology student-teachers made.
I probably looked out of place next to him, even though I wore one of my nicer pleated skirts and sweaters. Somehow, I had a feeling that all of these guys had a different budget than that of a regular student/post-graduate.
This disparity could be a problem if I was going to be around them for any length of time. I would need to improvise.
The train of thoughts screeched to a halt as I came to my senses. I wasn’t going to be hanging around them, even if they weren’t going to try to kill me after all. This entire situation was way too awkward. And I hadn’t even accepted their help.
Yet.
Although, it was tempting.
But there was one more matter—besides Finn—that had been picking away at my subconscious. “Wait.”
Damen paused, glancing down at me.
It was difficult to not be lost in his eyes, but I persevered. “I forgot. You laughed at me. I’m not your science experiment, you know.”
His brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
Darn him for looking so befuddled. It was too adorable. “I know all about you being a psychologist,” I said. “I won’t be your new lab rat.”
Damen’s mouth twisted. “Do you always jump to wild conclusions?”
I gasped, offended. “Of course not! Life has proven that my conclusions are very logical.”
“Really?” He frowned—my response seemed to have displeased him even more. “First of all, I’m a forensic psychologist. I work with the police on a specialized task force. I’m not involved in clinical psychology or counseling.”
His gaze was still serious as he studied me, as if he wanted me to truly understand his words. “And secondly,” he continued, “despite what you have been led to believe, you aren’t crazy. We weren’t laughing at you at all. We were laughing at Finn because he’s an idiot. Maybe one day you’ll learn how much of an idiot he is. But rest assured that there is nothing wrong with you.”
