Page 10 of Lured By Shadows

Eventually, he finished speaking and turned toward me. His gaze locked onto mine without hesitation as he moved through the rows. He passed empty seats without a second glance, closing the distance between us. Then he took the seat beside me, as though there had never been another option.

Of course he did.

My ma’s bosses had to be seriously wealthy to put this kind of money into a place like this, and I? I was the extra piece added in. The thought pulled a quiet laugh from my chest. I tipped my head back slightly and let my gaze drift to the cream-colored ceiling, grounding myself in something steady.

I tried not to look at Culver, but it was impossible not to feel him beside me. Not just close, but present in a way that made it hard to breathe normally.

“Why did you move?” he asked, his voice low but clear, cutting through the dull hum of the lecture hall. “I assume that you moved here recently.”

The faint scratch of pens on paper and the professor’s distant voice blurred together, but his didn’t. His voice settled into me, impossible to ignore.

I turned toward him, narrowing my eyes slightly. The question sounded simple, but it was too pointed. “Why’re you curious about that?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, I noticed the slow movement of his throat as he swallowed, the quiet shift of his jaw, and his gaze never leaving mine.

A faint, crooked smile touched his lips. “I possess a rather selective curiosity,” he said smoothly. “It simply so happens that you have captured it.”

I smirked, biting lightly at my lip as the faint taste of my gloss lingered. I guess I could give him a little.

“My ma got a job offer,” I said, shrugging one shoulder. “I just came along for the ride.”

I glanced down at my freshly painted nails, the glossy finish catching the soft overhead lights while I waited for him to respond.

I expected a smug response. Instead, when I looked back up, his expression had softened into something more thoughtful. His eyes traced over me in a way that left my skin warmer beneath the cool air of the room.

“You may have followed your mother here,” he said, each word measured, “but that does not suggest your life has been placed on hold.” His gaze held mine, unwavering. “If anything, I would argue it has only just begun.”

My breath caught slightly, though I wasn’t sure why.

“England offers opportunity,” he continued, quieter now. “It cultivates ambition and talent.” A brief pause. “You would not arrive here without purpose. I imagine you will prove to be… a striking addition to it.”

Heat rushed up my neck, blooming across my cheeks. One more sentence like that and I was going to end up developing feelings against my will. I cleared my throat and looked away while the faint scent of his cologne lingered nearby, thick and unmistakable, making it harder to think straight.

I scoffed lightly, forcing something casual into my tone. “You’re good at this.”

His brows drew together slightly, the smallest crease forming between them. “At what?”

I rolled my eyes, though a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth despite myself. “Getting people to talk.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said evenly, though there was a quiet edge beneath it. “I do not make a habit of engaging with many… people.”

“Convenient,” I deadpanned, shifting subtly closer without realizing it, close enough to feel the faint coolness of his breath against me.

“Is it?” he murmured.

We were too close.

“Or does it leave you questioning whether I am being honest?”

My fingers tapped lightly against the edge of my seat, the subtle texture grounding me as my pulse picked up. “I think you like hearing yourself talk.”

“Not particularly.” His voice dipped lower, threading through the spaces of my thoughts. “But I do find that I enjoy hearing you respond.”

That small, knowing smirk returned, restrained but purposeful.

A shiver slipped down my spine, his voice settling somewhere far too deep. I tightened my grip on my textbook, forcing myself to breathe and remember where I was. A classroom. My first class in a new country. I had no business reacting like this, no reason to let one sentence from him feel perilous enough to unravel me.

Before I realized it, students were already filing out, their movement and chatter pulling me back to the present. I stood quickly, needing distance. Distance suddenly felt as necessary as breathing, which was probably not a great sign. I needed time to think. Time to not feel the weight of his attention lingering over me.