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Instead, I lean into his touch, letting out a shaky breath. "Thank you," I murmur.
For a moment, we stay like that, suspended in a bubble of understanding and unspoken feelings. The air between us feels charged, electric. I can see the conflict in Lucas's eyes – the desire to protect, to comfort, warring with his sense of propriety and responsibility.
Finally, reluctantly, he pulls his hand away. But he doesn't move back to his side of the desk. Instead, he perches on the edge, close enough that I can still feel the warmth radiating from him.
"Would you like to talk about it?" he asks softly.
I take a deep breath, weighing my options. Opening up about Mark feels dangerous, like stepping out onto thin ice. But looking at Lucas, I feel a sense of trust I haven't experienced in a long time.
"We were together for a year," I begin, my voice barely above a whisper. "At first, he was charming, attentive. But then... things changed. He became possessive, controlling. He'd use his strength to intimidate me, his heightened senses to track my movements."
Lucas's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. But he remains silent, letting me continue.
"I left him two years ago, moved here to start fresh. But he keeps finding ways to contact me, to remind me that he's still out there."
"Has he threatened you?" Lucas asks, his voice tight with restrained anger.
I shake my head. "Not explicitly. He's too smart for that. It's more... implied. Little reminders that he knows where I am, what I'm doing."
Lucas's hands grip the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white. "Sarah, what he's doing is not okay. It's harassment, plain and simple. Have you considered getting a restraining order?"
I laugh, but it's a hollow sound. "Against a shifter? Who would enforce it? Most humans are too afraid to stand up to your kind, and other shifters... well, they tend to stick together, don't they?"
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Lucas flinches as if I've slapped him, hurt flashing in his eyes before he masks it.
"I'm sorry," I say quickly. "That was unfair. You're not... you're different."
He takes a deep breath, visibly composing himself. "No, you have a point. Many shifters do protect their own, even when they shouldn't. But Sarah, I want you to know that I'm not like that. If you need help, if you feel unsafe, I will do everything in my power to protect you. Not as a shifter, not as your professor, but as someone who... cares about you."
The intensity in his gaze makes my breath catch. There's something raw and honest in his words, in the way he's looking at me. It challenges everything I thought I knew about shifters, about him.
"I... I don't know what to say," I admit, my voice trembling.
Lucas's expression softens. "You don't have to say anything. Just know that you're not alone in this, Sarah. Whatever you need, I'm here."
The sincerity in his voice, the genuine concern in his eyes, it all becomes too much. Tears well up, and I blink rapidly, trying to hold them back. But it's a losing battle.
Without a word, Lucas reaches out, offering a box of tissues. As I take one, our fingers brush, and a jolt of electricity seems to pass between us. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, the world narrows to just us two.
The tension in the room is palpable. I know I should leave, should thank him for his time and walk out that door. But I can't move, can't look away from those stormy grey eyes that seem to see right through me.
The shrill ring of the office phone shatters the moment. We both jump, the spell broken. Lucas clears his throat, looking flustered for the first time since I've known him.
"I should... I should get that," he says, reluctantly moving back to his chair.
I nod, using the moment to compose myself. What just happened? What was I thinking? He's my professor, a shifter, everything I should be staying away from. And yet...
As Lucas answers the phone, his voice taking on a professional tone, I gather my things. My mind is reeling, trying to process everything that's transpired in this office. The connection we shared, the understanding, the almost-moment... it's all too much.
When he hangs up, our eyes meet again. There's an apology in his gaze, mixed with something else I can't quite name.
"I'm sorry, I have to prepare for a faculty meeting," he says, sounding genuinely regretful. "But Sarah, if you need anything – anything at all – please don't hesitate to reach out. Day or night."
I nod, managing a small smile. "Thank you, Dr. Morgan. For everything."
As I stand to leave, he rises as well. "Sarah," he says, stopping me at the door. I turn back, my hand on the doorknob. "Please be careful. And remember what I said – you're not alone."
The intensity in his voice, the concern in his eyes, it wraps around me like a warm blanket. For the first time in months, I feel truly safe.
