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Logically, I know not all shifters are like Mark. I've met plenty of kind, decent shifters. But fear isn't always rational. It's a visceral thing, born from experience and trauma, that lingers long afterthe mind knows better. Still, with every interaction, every gentle word and understanding look, Dr. Morgan chips away at the walls I've built around my heart.
I can't deny the pull I feel towards him, the way my heart races when he's near. It's more than just his striking looks or that deep, rumbling voice. It's the kindness in his eyes, the patience he shows when we're discussing my research, the way he makes me feel safe and understood.
But can I really trust these feelings? After Mark, I swore I'd never let myself be vulnerable to a shifter again. Yet here I am, my thoughts constantly drifting to one.
I adjust the strap of my messenger bag, filled with graded papers and lesson plans, as I make my way across the quad.
As I walk, my mind drifts to my upcoming meeting with Lucas. My cheeks warm at the thought of him, and I chide myself for the reaction. He's my professor, my mentor. Nothing more. But even as I think it, I know it's a lie. There's something about him that draws me in, despite my better judgment.
I'm so lost in thought that I almost don't notice the familiar scent that suddenly assaults my senses – a mixture of sandalwood and something darker, more primal.
My heart stutters, then begins to race. No. It can't be.
"Sarah? Is that you?"
The voice sends ice through my veins. Slowly, I turn, praying I'm wrong. But there he stands, barely ten feet away, a predatory smile playing on his lips.
Mark.
My ex-boyfriend. The man who haunts my nightmares.
"What a pleasant surprise," he says, his voice smooth as silk. He takes a step closer, and I instinctively back away. "It's been too long."
I struggle to find my voice, to appear calm despite the panic clawing at my chest. "Mark. What are you doing here?"
He chuckles, the sound sending shivers down my spine. "Is that any way to greet an old friend? I'm a visiting professor this semester. Imagine my delight when I caught your scent on campus."
My mind reels. Mark, here? At my university? The safe haven I've built for myself suddenly feels like quicksand beneath my feet.
"We're not friends, Mark," I manage to say, proud that my voice only trembles slightly. "Please, just leave me alone."
His eyes narrow, a flash of something dangerous glinting in their depths. "Now, now, Sarah. There's no need to be hostile. I thought we could catch up, reminisce about old times."
The way he says "old times" makes my skin crawl. Flashes of those "old times" assault my mind – bruises hidden under long sleeves, tears shed in silence, the constant fear of setting him off.
"There's nothing to talk about," I say, taking another step back. My eyes dart around, searching for an escape route. The quad suddenly seems too open, too exposed.
Mark moves closer, his tall frame blocking out the sun. "I've missed you, Sarah," he murmurs, reaching out as if to touch my face.
I flinch away, my heart pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it. "Don't," I whisper, hating how small my voice sounds.
His nostrils flare slightly, and I know he can smell my fear. Damn shifter senses.
"If you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to," I stammer. I need to get away from him.
As I turn to leave, his hand shoots out, gripping my arm. His touch burns through the fabric of my blouse. "We're not done here, Sarah," he says, his voice low and menacing. "You can't run forever. Remember, I always find what's mine."
With a final squeeze that's sure to leave bruises, he releases me. I stumble back, my breathing shallow and quick. The world spins around me as I watch Mark saunter away, disappearing into the crowd of students.
I stand there, frozen, for what feels like an eternity. My legs tremble, threatening to give out. I need to move, to get somewhere safe, but my body won't cooperate. The sunny day now feels oppressive, the chatter of students like static in my ears.
Suddenly, a group of laughing students brushes past me, jolting me back to reality. I gasp, sucking in air like I've been underwater. Move, Sarah. You need to move.
Without conscious thought, my feet carry me across campus. I weave through buildings and walkways, my only goal to put as much distance between myself and Mark as possible. My vision blurs with unshed tears, my chest tight with barely contained panic.
It's only when I find myself in front of a familiar door that I realize where I've gone. Dr. Morgan's office.
I hesitate, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Should I bother him with this? He's my professor, not my protector. But thememory of Mark's threat echoes in my mind, and before I can second-guess myself, I knock.
