Page 45 of Depraved

A shadow of pain flickers across his perfect features, and my stomach dips at the sight of it.

“You rejected me after the hunt,” he reminds me. “I don’t blame you for using your safe word, but I was hurt and frustrated. I could’ve been nicer during that first lecture. I let my emotions get the best of me.”

The reminder of his elaborate lies sours my appetite despite the delicious aromas filling the kitchen.

My mood dips lower when he insists, “I meant what I said about your MA. I truly don’t think you need a higher degree to write your books.”

I bristle. “See? You’re being highhanded right now. My studies are my decision. I’m pursing my own goals, and you have no idea how hard I’ve worked to get accepted into my program at University of York. You’re being dismissive, and it’s beyond annoying.”

“You’re talented,” he says, calmly turning his attention back to the oven. “You don’t have to prove that by getting an MA. I support your dreams. I’m simply saying that you already have the drive and skillset to be a successful author.”

I try to ignore the way my mouth waters when he pulls out the roast chicken and dauphinois potatoes.

I cross my arms over my chest. “You just want me to quit so that you won’t have to pose as my professor anymore. Did you even go to Notre Dame? How did you get the qualifications for your position in my department?”

He frowns and starts to plate our food. “I didn’t have to go to Notre Dame to gain the necessary knowledge. I was telling the truth when I said I’ve been studying the same subjects as you for the last four years.”

“So, you don’t have a PhD.”

He quirks a brow. “You don’t think I’m smart enough to be a professor?”

Our foster parents “homeschooled” us to keep us isolated from anyone who might note their abuse, but Brandon always excelled in his self-directed studies. Our mutual love of reading and learning was one of the first things we bonded over when we were kids. Escaping into books was the only way to survive in that hellish house.

We had each other. We endured together.

“I’ve always known you’re smart,” I assert. “I just don’t understand how you got a job as a professor without the necessary qualifications.”

He carries our plates to the dining table and gestures for me to join him.

“I bought the identity I needed to be your professor, just like you bought the name Lena Williams,” he explains. “I made sure Rand Hirst had the qualifications I needed.”

I shake my head. “You really are crazy.”

It’s almost unfathomable that he’s gone to such lengths to be here with me.

It shouldn’t make warmth pulse at the center of my chest; I should still be horrified.

But after our intense sex in the shower, I can’t deny that I crave his nearness. I spent so long mourning him. The fact that he’s with me now is a balm to my ravaged soul.

I pull out the chair beside him, but before I can sit down, he tugs me towards him. He gently grasps my hips and arranges my body so that I’m seated on his lap.

I squirm. “Hey!”

He tugs my hair in reprimand. The slight flare of pain on my scalp harnesses my full attention, and I stop struggling.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he insists, voice going deep and soothing. “You’ve been alone for a long time. You don’t have to be alone anymore. I’ve got you now.”

A shiver races over my skin, a disconcertingly pleasurable reaction. His possessiveness doesn’t elicit so much as a flicker of fear.

Maybe I’m the one who’s insane.

“You could’ve been with me,” I say quietly. “I can’t take back what happened in the stables that night, but I never wanted to lose you. It’s been…” I breathe through the tightness in my chest. “Hard.”

He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “That’s why I got in touch with you as Bones. It was the only way I could think to be with you until I could fix my face. I needed to have the means to support you in the way you deserve.” He eyes me warily when he admits, “This estate is for you. The house in York is for you. Everything I have is yours.”

Something occurs to me; there have been so many layers of deception that it’s taking time for me to sort through all of them.

“How did you find me as Bones?” I challenge. “I had my new identity as Lena by then. You reached out to me as though you were a stranger in the chat room on the Eroticlit website, but you knew exactly who I was. Explain.”