Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
CALEB
Pounding on my door jerked me upright in bed.
For a second, disorientation swept me as I clutched at my comforter. Morning sunlight flooded the room and sent needles of pain into my eyes, which felt like I’d rinsed them with sand. As I squinted, I caught sight of my crumpled jeans on the floor.
Memories of Jesse and my wild sprint rushed back, making my heart pound almost as hard as when I’d booked it away from his house.
For once, luck had been on my side. His neighborhood was more upscale than mine, with wider spaces between the houses, but his road opened onto one of Hale Valley’s main arteries.
I’d hauled ass to my parents’ house, expecting to feel Jesse’s fingers bite into my shoulder at any second.
By the time I’d scrambled through my bedroom window, my legs had refused to support me, and I’d spent fifteen minutes on the floor before I summoned enough energy to crawl into bed.
“Caleb!” my dad bellowed through the door. The handle rattled, followed by another flurry of knocks.
Fuck. Could he be chill for, like, ten minutes of his life?
“Caleb! Open this door, or I’m getting a screwdriver and removing it from the hinges!”
Nope.
“I’m coming!” I shouted. Leaving the bed, I staggered across the room, stopping only to jerk on a pair of sweats from the clean pile of laundry on my desk chair.
When I wrenched open the door, my father lowered his hand.
He didn’t even attempt to conceal his dislike as he took in my rumpled hair and bare chest.
“I’ve been texting you for the past half hour.”
“I forgot to charge my phone,” I lied.
His mouth tightened. “You’ve got ten minutes to get downstairs.”
“For what?”
He gave me a look like I was the stupidest person he’d ever had the misfortune to encounter. “For class. I’m driving you.”
Everything within me recoiled. “Why?” He never drove me. And what day was it, anyway? I stumbled through the mental calculation, sluggishly landing on Friday. I had public finance with Professor Keating again.
Anger joined the hostility in my father’s eyes. “Watch your tone. As long as you live in this house, you’ll speak to me with respect.” His gaze flicked to my chest. “And I don’t want to see you without a shirt on again.”
“I was sleeping.” Anger stirred in my gut as I held his stare. At the same time, a spurt of amusement shot through me. My father would crumple under the weight of Jesse van der Meer’s gaze. As soon as the thought entered my head, heat spread across my nape.
“No kidding,” my father said, darting his eyes to my shoulder. Because he can’t look at me.
The sudden knowledge hit me like a key turning in a lock.
It took everything I had not to step into him and force him to back down. But I didn’t want to touch him—or risk letting the anger push me into doing something I might regret.
He cleared his throat. “Get dressed. Dean Welch was attacked by some kind of wild animal on the trails behind campus last night. Your mother doesn’t want you walking to school.” He turned and headed for the top of the stairs.
Shock rippled through me. Because since when did my mom care about me being torn apart by animals?
As my father walked away, panic kicked in.
I couldn’t show up at school. Not after last night.
And the police knew about Aiden Cross. At least, I thought they did.
Either way, I needed to keep my distance from Hale Valley.
“Wait,” I called.
My dad swung back, an irritated look on his face.
“I’m not feeling well.” I swallowed my pride and pumped as much compliance into my voice as I could. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to stay home today.”
He’d clearly never attended a summer-long retreat, because he did a poor job of concealing his delight as he shook his head. “You’ve already missed too many classes this semester. You’ve got eight minutes now. I’ll see you downstairs.”
Forty-five minutes later, I kept my head down as I navigated the crowded hallways of the business administration building.
I felt strangely naked without my backpack, which I assumed I’d dropped somewhere between downtown and the forest when I thought I was being chased by demons.
Like my phone, it was probably long gone.
Fortunately, my father hadn’t mentioned either item during the tense drive to school.
Then again, he hadn’t said anything at all. So, yay for me or whatever.
Conversations buzzed in my ears as I made my way to the lecture hall.
Everyone was talking about Welch and the “animal attack.” According to snippets I caught here and there, the police had shut down all the trails, and now animal control was combing the forest, looking for coyotes or feral dogs.
My stomach cramped at the possibility of the cops or the animal control people stumbling upon my phone.
As much as I wanted it back, I didn’t need my dad asking questions about why I’d lost it in the woods.
Then again, if Aiden Cross hadn’t reported the fight by now, he’d probably decided to drop it.
Maybe Coach Gannon hadn’t spoken to the police about me, after all, and their presence on campus yesterday was just a coincidence.
I hadn’t seen any officers on my way into the building.
I hadn’t seen Cross, either, and I wanted to keep it that way.
But I’d see Nathan Brooks in public finance.
I stopped so abruptly that someone slammed into my back.
“Hey!” a girl exclaimed, shooting me a disgruntled look as she stepped around me.
“Sorry,” I muttered. She didn’t acknowledge my apology as she disappeared inside the lecture hall.
As the double doors swung shut behind her, I ducked into an alcove.
If anyone had information about Cross, it was Nathan.
They spent a lot of time together. Nathan could probably tell me if Cross had ratted me out to Coach Gannon or the cops.
On the other hand, Nathan could also demand an explanation for the attack. Or worse, he might stand up and tell everyone in the room I was a lunatic who jumped guys in the forest.
No, I couldn’t show my face in that lecture. My parents were both at work by now. The safest bet was to go home, lay low, and see how the weekend unfolded. If the police didn’t come knocking by Monday, I could return to normal life.
That plan didn’t solve the problem of Jesse van der Meer, though.
My pulse kicked higher, and I pressed my back against the wall as the events of the night before paraded through my head.
Seriously, fuck that guy. That was serial killer shit, kidnapping me and pretending to be a werewolf.
But the way he’d transformed his hand had looked so real.
And I hadn’t imagined the pressure in my chest when he ordered me around.
I probably wasn’t his first victim. Clearly, he was insane.
Or maybe he was a hypnotist. Somewhere in my mind, a third possibility fluttered, begging for attention.
I ignored it as I pushed off the wall and headed for the stairs. The crowd thinned as I passed, stragglers slipping into classrooms on either side of the hallway. Two guys near a water fountain spoke under their breath, but their words were clear as a bell in my ears.
“I heard they have to take skin from his ass and graft it to his leg,” the taller one said.
My gut clenched, and I slowed as the shorter guy let out a low whistle.
“Damn, that’s rough. Do you think they’ll have one of the other deans fill in for him? I need someone to approve my internship.”
I hunched my shoulders as I passed them. That was the way life went. Doctors grafted your ass to your leg, and all anyone could think about was the work you were missing.
The hallway cleared as I neared the stairwell directly across from Dean Welch’s office.
I walked faster, my hand twitching for a backpack strap that wasn’t there to grasp.
Welch’s office was dark, the door shut. His secretary must have taken the day off, too.
Or maybe she was sitting at his bedside in the hospital, taking dictation of the attack so Welch could turn me into the cops.
But he couldn’t have seen me. Didn’t the brain protect itself during trauma? I had no memory of being attacked on the jogging trail. Hopefully, Welch wouldn’t remember anything, either.
Laughter rang out, jerking me from my thoughts—and making me abruptly aware that I stood an inch from Welch’s office door with my heart tap dancing in my chest. I spun around in time to see a group of students exiting a classroom at the other end of the hall.
They were too far away to notice me, and I let my shoulders slump as I drew a steadying breath.
The hint of a breeze was my only warning.
A hand clamped on my shoulder before I’d even registered the door opening behind me. As I drew breath to shout, another hand clamped hard over my mouth. Strong arms dragged me backward into the office. I kicked, aiming for the open door.
“No, you don’t,” Jesse growled in my ear. His spicy, masculine scent enveloped me. Stubble scraped my cheek. Still moving backward, he hauled me past the secretary’s desk.
As I flailed in his grip, the door leading to the hallway outside slowly shut itself.
Fear spiked, and I clawed at Jesse’s forearm.
But he wore a thick sweatshirt, and my efforts were useless as he spun and marched me into Welch’s office.
Morning sunlight splashed the beige walls and Welch’s empty desk.
The scent of stale aftershave and artificial cherry hit my lungs.
I kicked harder, the heel of my sneaker nailing Jesse in the shin.
He took three swift steps forward and released me.
I whirled, my fist already flying. My blow connected with nothing but air, my momentum swinging me around in an awkward stumble that left me facing Welch’s desk.
Jesse sat behind it, his ankles crossed on the surface like he’d been there the whole time. But he fucking hadn’t. He’d moved too swiftly for me to track.
He wore his ball cap, jeans, and a dark blue sweatshirt with a faded “Syracuse” printed across the chest. Once again, his ball cap was pulled low. As I struggled to catch my breath, he pushed up the brim with a long finger.
Bright yellow eyes glowed like twin suns.
He flicked his gaze to a spot over my shoulder. A second later, the door creaked behind me. I turned my head in time to see it snick shut. The click of the lock was like a gunshot in the quiet room.
Heart beating triple time, I faced Jesse once more. His lips curved, revealing fangs and a smile that loosened my knees.
“Come closer, college boy. You and I are going to have a little talk.”