Page 31 of Lured By Shadows

8

My heart skipped, a small jolt running through me, and I realized I had completely forgotten he was coming for me. Now he was standing right there like a warning or some sort of possibility.

I didn’t know what to say to him, and part of me wondered if he would respect the space of the weekend I desperately hoped to spend away from his watchful eyes or if I was going to end up spending it beside him too. Though the truth I didn’t want to name kept nagging at me. I couldn’t decide whether I would despise that or secretly want it.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I forced a casual smile toward Sienna and Oliver. “Bye, y’all,” I said, trying to keep the nerves and excitement from climbing up my throat, and walked toward him.

As I looked up at Culver, my eyes narrowed slightly, searching for any sign that might confirm the whispers circling around him. The rumors I’d overheard pulsed in the back of my mind like a countdown ticking toward some truth I hadn’t uncovered yet. But no matter how much I examined the shadows beneath his eyes or the pale, sculpted neutrality of his face, all I saw was someone who looked more tired than sinister. Aloof, yes, and elusive, definitely, but dangerous… not yet in any way I could pin down. Like a character built from every emo-boy stereotype ever written. Somewhere out there, Tumblr users would’ve lost their minds over him.

I pushed aside the unease curling at the edges of my curiosity, knowing that if I wanted to understand him, I needed to stay on the right side of his attention. Not that I had any intention of ending up on the wrong side. So I straightened my posture and put on a smile I hoped looked confident. “Hey,” I greeted, my voice casual but a touch too bright.

He took me in with that unreadable calm of his, but his eyes—God, those eyes—gleamed too intensely to be indifferent. “Hmm,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “You seem rather overjoyed.”

“Maybe ’cause I am,” I said lightly, though part of me questioned what exactly he saw when he looked at me.

As we walked, I could feel other students staring openly, their attention trailing after Culver like moths drawn to a flame they couldn’t resist. Most of them didn’t bother hiding it, while Culver didn’t acknowledge any of them. His stride stayed slow and steady, boots tapping against the polished floor with quiet confidence, and my gaze dropped briefly to them: clean, stylish, and carefully chosen. His whole appearance carried the same restrained gothic edge, like some old-world ghost who’d wandered through a luxury fashion campaign before slipping back into the shadows.

Even walking beside him made my thoughts drift in dangerous directions. I caught myself wondering what existed beneath all that black fabric, whether his skin would feel as cold everywhere else as it did beneath his fingertips. Wondering if he would tense beneath my touch or lean into it instead.

I didn’t get far enough to find out because suddenly he stopped, and I was too caught in my own thoughts to notice. I bumped into his back, my face pressing briefly against his shoulder before I stumbled back with a small sound.

“Ack—sorry,” I muttered, cheeks heating instantly.

Before I could steady myself, he turned and caught my arm. His hand closed around it, stealing the breath from my lungs. The cold, silken touch sent a rush of electricity through me. There was nothing uncertain in the way he steadied me; his grip was firm and confident, his reflexes unnaturally fast.

His fingers lingered, and when I met his eyes, the now-familiar pull tightened between us, making my mind betray me again as I imagined what it would feel like to slide my hand beneath his shirt, tracing the dip of his hips and the cut of his abdomen—

Oh, fuck. I needed to stop thinking about it before I got wet. God bless hormones, I guess.

Trying to recover, I blurted out, “You’ve got a big house, don’t you?” Somewhere, my ancestors were embarrassed, and the second the words left my mouth, I wanted to die. If there had been a nearby grave, I would’ve climbed into it myself.

Culver raised a brow, the corners of his mouth twitching with barely contained amusement.

“Not that I wanna go to your house!” I rushed out, waving both hands like some kind of emergency semaphore. “I meant it’s probably fancy. ’Cause this is a prestigious school, and all that.” Every word spilling out of me sounded more frantic than the last.

He tipped his head, lips twitching into a slow, knowing smile. “I suppose it could be considered big,” he said, the tone suggestive enough to make me want to scream.

I folded my arms across my chest and popped my hip out. Dignity was hanging on by a thread at this point. “I’m sure it’s not that big,” I shot back. “I’ve seen bigger.”

Which was not remotely true, but pride was all I had left.

He laughed softly, his eyes bright with mischief. “You’re more than welcome to come home with me and find out, little lamb.”

Sir. My survival instincts were already hanging by a thread.

A groan slipped out as I turned away, flustered and frowning. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I only tease you,” he replied, patting the top of my head in that infuriating way. I leaned into it before I could stop myself, though.

“I told you I’m not a baby,” I huffed, cheeks warm. “Besides, it drives me crazy when you talk like that.”

His next laugh carried warmth instead of mockery. If anything, there was fondness tucked into the sound, like he knew exactly why I was off-balance and enjoyed every second of it.

“After class,” he said, his tone shifting softer. “We can discuss this further. I meant it when I invited you.”

“Not a chance,” I said quickly, trying to regain the upper hand. “I have work to do. A paper to work on, if you remember! And honestly, I still don’t know if you’re secretly a murderer.”

I realized too late I’d said that last part out loud.