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Demon by Night
by
Godiva Glenn
Chapter 1
Alyssa peered around the corner. She rarely hid among the reference stacks in the library, and the most recent occurrence was right before she’d thrown caution to the wind and asked Drastos Blake—the mysterious, charming, incredibly sexy research librarian at her university—out to dinner. It seemed fitting that he was once again the reason for her anxiousness and hiding.
They’d had a wonderful date. They’d connected easily with never a dull moment. He’d kissed her goodnight and melted her kneecaps. Then, he’d never called. A week passed and each time she visited him at his desk, it was as if nothing ever happened between them.
She’d known him for four years and been in love with him—or as “in love” as a one-sided situation could go—for three. Asking him to dinner had taken every ounce of her courage, and she was ready to muster up said courage again to now ask, “What the hell?”
Pushing back her shoulders, she inhaled and pictured herself breathing in pure confidence. It was the absolute longest six foot walk of her existence, and the feel of her loose curls bouncing off her shoulders made her feel more comical than serious.
Drastos looked up at her and smiled as he always did, with a mirth that reached his dark eyes and made them seem lighter and full of life. His eyes weren’t brown, exactly. More like mahogany. A definite red undertone lurked in their depths and—she ground her teeth. She had a purpose today, and it wasn’t to fawn over his eyes.
“You never called,” she blurted out. She’d planned to be cool and casual, but her mouth had spoken, so she stood behind it and held his gaze.
His smile slipped for a moment. “I don’t think it best to discuss personal matters while I’m working.”
“Then when? Could we meet for lunch today?” she asked, not backing down.
His brow furrowed briefly, and he shook his head. “I’ve already had lunch. Perhaps—” he pursed his lips before continuing. “I think we should just move forward, Ms. Harris.”
The use of her last name struck a hard blow. She hadn’t been Ms. Harris to him for at least two years. What happened to their first-name basis? She backed away, but before she turned to leave, saw what looked like regret in his eyes.
You’re imagining things.
*
There was a line between persistence and stalking Alyssa knew this, and she pondered it while waiting beside the steps of the library’s main entrance. She hadn’t imagined how well their date had gone, nor had she imagined their years’ of low-key flirting. How many after-hours university events had they met up at and chatted away into the late night? How many times had he called her over to his desk with extra materials he’d found in his personal time to help with her research?
They had something. Chemistry. Yearning. She wasn’t imagining the connection; she was sure of it. All she wanted was the truth from him. She could handle if he told her he didn’t feel a spark, but she needed to hear it in plain terms.
When he exited the library, she took a moment to appreciate him in the afternoon light. He was tall, dark, and classically handsome, but the crowning glory of his appearance was in the gentle swoop of silver above his left temple. He wasn’t all thatmuch older than Alyssa, and once mentioned he’d had that patch of gray his entire adult life. It was chef’s-kiss perfect on him.
His clothing also stood out, being a man who always dressed impeccably, who wore a suit jacket year-round, and never jeans or sneakers. Suits, ties, the occasional waistcoat, and fancy leather shoes—which she bet cost more than one would expect on a librarian’s salary—comprised his wardrobe. He had an old-world appearance, which fit him because he was the type to make women swoon.
She called his name as he hit the last step, and after a resigned glance toward the parking lot, he came to her.
“Can I at least know why?” she asked, not wanting to beat around the bush. “I thought we had an amazing time.”
The briefcase at his side twisted as he fidgeted—a very un-Drastos-like reaction. He slid his free hand into his pants pocket and stared at her with palpable frustration. She almost took a step back, unaccustomed to the non-congenial side of him.
“Whether the time was well-spent or not is of no importance. It is a matter of the future. We—you and I—cannot have one together. I take responsibility for leading you on, but there can be nothing between us,” he said matter-of-factly.
It was an answer that sparked a million questions. “Why?”
His jaw tightened, and his shoulders lifted in an almost imperceptible shrug. “It’s not something to discuss. It simplyis, Ms. Harris.” His voice lowered, and something akin to remorse entered his voice. “You can’t know…”
“What? Like if you told me you’d have to kill me?” The ridiculous joke was out before she could think better of her tone.
Drastos tilted his head. “Yes.”
She wanted to laugh, but one look at his face killed the urge. Everything about his demeanor chilled, and now he stared at her with ice in his eyes as if daring her to break the uncomfortablesilence that had settled between them. Then he turned on his heel and walked away.
