Page 45 of Zodiac Monsters

Chapter 18

The softest pillows were the first thing I noticed when consciousness tugged at my mind. The weight of a thick blanket came next. I rolled over in heavenly down, filled with the fragrance of lilac detergent, and… Rosemary? Tobacco?

Oh, I fucked up. I fucked up hard.

I forced open my eyes, only to be met by cream covered walls and grey bedding in every direction of my periphery. As much as I was mentally ready to lose my shit, freak out, and start shrieking like a banshee, it was so damn comfortable, and my whole body was so content in its endorphins and restfulness, that it was impressively hard to commit to moving. Could I just pretend I was dead and never leave this spot? Was that an acceptable conflict resolution strategy?

Dealing with the consequences of my actions was bullshit. I snuggled into the pillow one last time before I accepted I had to face the music.

With a deep breath, I wrenched myself upright on this not-too-firm, not-too-soft, just-right heaven of a mattress, and I inspected myself. I was fully clothed in my black velvet dress. My shapewear was hugging my body with tension that was mildly uncomfortable after sleeping in it for some unknown number of hours, and the black jeweled belt that Ceto had given me was resting on the stained wood nightstand at my side. The bracelet was still around my wrist, having never left at any point that night. How exactly it was supposed to protect me against Alphas, I had no fucking clue, because my body felt thoroughly ravaged.

My first instinct—likely born of trauma and deep denial—was to ask myself if I’d dreamed the whole thing while sleeping in this cozy, fluffy little nook. Maybe I’d actually passed out from a hallucinogenic fever while in class, and all of it was a product of my subconscious confusion.

There were so many aspects of the night that I had to process still, otherwise.

Like, I was supposed to now believe that I wasn’t human?

Or, I was going to just accept that my parents lied to me my whole life?

And on top of all that, I went on a date with my teacher and hopped on his scaled fish dick in the middle of a public business?

In what world was the nerdy, unpopular girl from the frigid north secretly a kinky, magical exhibitionist?

Nope, nope, nope, and fucking nope.

But of course, any cognitive dissonance I wanted to indulge in was spoiled by the indisputable fact that I was, without question, sleeping in Adrian Karras’ bed, at what I could only assume was my dear professor’s personal home. Not the nurse’s office. Not my own dorm room. Not a guest room or a pull out bed. No, this was the bed that he slept in every night. An intimate place where he let his guard down, where only he and his lovers—however many of them he might have—belonged.

This was not a place for his student, and especially not a place for me.

Abject horror struck me as I heard the sound of a turning doorknob. The door swung open on silent hinges faster than I could bury myself back in the covers and pretend to be asleep.

Instead, I opted—not at all awkwardly—to stare at Adrian, who was fully dressed in casual jeans and a short-sleeved Henley, as though he wasn’t a stuffy, hard to talk to, serious, and professional person at all. One might even think he was actually a regular guy who had a life outside his job.

Confusing.

I’d figured he was the type to wear pressed dress shirts even on his weekends.

“How are you feeling?” He asked with thinly masked guilt in his voice. My eyes dropped to the bag of takeout in his hand, then lifted back to the wall, since I was not at all ready to actually make eye contact.

“Surprisingly great?”

“Is that an answer or a question?” He raised a brow.

“I honestly don’t know.” I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly. It was complicated, really. My pussy felt fantastic, but my brain was a rockslide in a glass house.

“Then let’s sort it out.” Adrian said so casually and practically. A man of science, he was. Always approaching problems like they were solvable. And he called me naïve.

“I don’t even know where to start.” I muttered, dropping my chin to my chest. I was purposely not processing the biggest revelation of the previous night. And no, I was not referring to his dick.

It was big though.

AHEM.

“Chinese takeout is where we start.” Adrian said matter-of-factly, and I was completely disarmed by that friendly, non-serious, gentle answer. “The rest can come after we eat. I don’t think you got nearly enough at the restaurant.”

One might argue that I’d gotten far too much at the restaurant, but as this was my teacher’s house, I would not be saying that out loud. Instead, I followed with a loud grumble of my stomach and an awkward laugh. It was truly a wonder that he wasn’t falling for me when he was sane.

I got out of his bed—yet another uncomfortable acknowledgement I was trying to downplay—then I followed him to his kitchen. He placed the bag on the breakfast bar counter, then fetched some plates and glasses of water. I broke apart my chopsticks, while casually surveying the area.