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I never want to return here again.
I can’t believe that the professor rescued me from the hands of my captor, and fought so fiercely to keep me safe. Why would he do that after being so awful to me? I stare out of the window, watching the world outside as it blurs past us, my mind circling over everything that’s happened, my stomach churning.
As we drive in silence, I can’t help but steal glances at the professor. He has a look of deep concentration on his face. My emotions are all over the place and even though I still want to be mad at him, he saved my life.
Clearing my throat to break the silence between us, I whisper, “Thank you.”
He turns to me, his gaze piercing. “I already told you, you don’t have to thank me, Malia,” he says, his voice soft and reassuring. “It’s my job to keep you safe.”
I nod, feeling a sensation in my chest that I can’t quite place. Is it gratitude? Admiration? Disappointment that I’m just a job? Or maybe something else entirely?
As if sensing my inner turmoil, the professor pulls over and turns to me. “Are you okay?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
I nod again, but this time I can’t stop the tears from falling. “Yes.” My voice is choked with emotion. “But I don’t know how to properly thank you. You saved my life. Words aren’t enough.”
The professor’s expression softens, and he leans in closer to me. “You don’t need to thank me, I promise,” he says, his breath hot against my cheek. “Just know that I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”
A strange sensation in my stomach stirs at his words, and before I can stop myself, I lean in and kiss him on the cheek. Or that’s what I intend to do. At the last second, he turns his head and my lips make contact with his. It’s a gentle kiss at first, but then it deepens, and a fire ignites within me.
I quickly pull away, my cheeks flushed and my heart racing. His eyes are dark with desire as he looks at me, and I can feel the tension between us thickening in the air.
The ringing of his phone startles me.
“What?” he snaps, answering the call through the steering wheel controls.
“You need to get back here,” Cove says through the line. His voice is all wrong, full of emotion and stress.
“I have Malia here, you’re on speakerphone,” the professor says tersely. I get the impression he’s warning Cove not to say too much.
“Malia! Thank goodness you’re okay….you are okay, aren’t you?”
“Y-yes. I’m fine.”
“We’ll see you shortly,” the professor interjects.
“Come to the campsite. The doc has moved him to operate.” He cuts the call before I can ask what he means.
“What’s he talking about? Who’s hurt?” I demand as dread fills me and threatens to make me sick.
“Bhodi.”
Shit! Of course. How could I have forgotten?
“W-what’s wrong with him?”
“He was stabbed. Several times with a magical blade. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
I don’t dare ask if the blade being magical makes a difference. “Is he going to be okay?”
“That’s what we need to go and find out.”
He doesn’t wait for me to reply, restarting the engine and pulling off into the dark night as guilt consumes me. By the sounds of it, Bhodi is gravely injured and I’m trying to make out with my teacher! I’m despicable.
It takes a minute for me to realise that we’re no longer heading in the same direction.
“Are we going to the hospital? Cove mentioned something about operating?” But I swear he also said campsite, but that can’t be right?
The professor’s jaw tightens, his knuckles straining around the steering wheel. “The hospital isn’t an option,” he says, his voice low. “We’re going to a private clinic.”
