Page 58

He gracefully enters the lecture hall, looking exceptionally attractive, and settles into his usual chair before adjusting his glasses. He sits in a relaxed and confident manner, with his arms crossed over his tight black shirt, his muscles flexed and his jaw clenched.

He still acts as if we don’t know each other. He acts like I’m invisible, even though I’m certain we almost shared a kiss in his office and his eyes looked nearly possessed when I left. Like they literally changed color.

Right now he seems so normal and composed, and I have no choice but to question if what I saw was real.

Except, what is real are these feelings burying themselves deep into my heart, and I wonder if I’m the one becoming obsessed with him.

This town is making me insane.

Dr. Garcia follows him in, giving him a small smile before heading up to the stage to start today’s lecture.

I finished my extra credit paper during the weekend instead of going out, and my eyes lit up this morning when I saw he returned it with a grade of a B- and a note: Much better. Come see me during my office hours when you get a chance.

My little dark heart picked up a notch, so desperate for interaction with him. Any interaction, since SF has gone icy cold since he maimed my thigh and I told him to leave me alone. I plan on visiting him this Friday. It’s time to find out why he’s pretending to be someone else and why he lied about meeting me before.

An enormous shadow looms beside me, pulling my attention, and Grant slinks into the spot next to mine.

My stomach roils.

“Hey, sexy girl,” he says, loud and obnoxious, which captures Lincoln’s attention. Only a twitch of his head, but I saw it.

A reaction.

My skin crawls at the sound of Grant’s voice, and Grant’s arm finds the back of my chair, forcing me to sit closer to him. The scent of his cheap cologne isn’t appealing to me and makes me want to gag.

I turn and smile, snapping on the charm, knowing I have Lincoln’s full attention. “Hey, Grant.”

“So, I was thinking,” he says, moving his arm down, his hand slinking over my shoulder. “I want to take you out. Just me and you.”

Lincoln’s head twitches again, and a satisfying twinge hits my stomach at his clear reaction to Grant’s voice.

I imagine that sexy, terrifying flicker flowing through his eyes.

“Yeah,” I say smiling, speaking as sexy as I can, crossing my legs and pressing out my chest as if Lincoln has eyes on the back of his head and can see how good I look.

“Yeah, sexy. We could catch a movie, and I can take you to dinner.” Bile hits my throat as his hand finds my thigh. “I want to get to know you a bit more.” He’s basically chewing on my ear at this point.

I’ve seen Grant around school getting to know other girls, too. I want nothing to do with him.

I remember those final threats from SF at the rave, but since SF doesn’t seem to give a shit, I don’t see how he has any right to threaten anyone I choose to go out with.

I smile sweetly. “I’d love to.”

Grant is distracted, staring down at my boobs, and Lincoln’s head finally turns to face me. My breath gets caught in my throat as translucent eyes stare back at me—they weren’t the eyes Lincoln walked in with and are similar to whatever I saw inside him in the office.

His jaw flexes as he beholds me, his mouth twitching to a small but cocky smirk, almost boyish. And while I’m melting inside, I give him nothing. No emotion, no smile, no outward expression of how terrifying he looks right now—or how sexy he is. Or how he’s not looking or acting the way Lincoln usually does.

My lungs seize as I stare back at Lincoln, who is observing me and not even trying to hide it.

Lincoln’s eyes flash, and he fixes me a psychotic blank stare, and for a moment, it’s like we are the only two people in the room. In a flash, they are normal again, and I wonder if anyone else in this room noticed.

Lincoln turns back and faces Dr. Garcia as if that didn’t happen, and the lights dim. Grant, thank god, didn’t see the intense interaction.

I’ll confront him when I see him next. Whoever this monster is inside of Lincoln needs to come out and talk to me.

Dr. Garcia’s heels click over the marble stage in the bundle of fury that she is, and I shift my attention to her. She has managed to remain, thus far, an afterthought in my mind, but I am growing suspicious of her.

She must have known what my father was. She knew him too well not to have known anything.