Chapter 10 Monroe #2
There’s a scrape against the ground, and a whisper pulls me from my ogling. “Monroe.”
“Yes?” I shift in my seat.
“You may want to screw your jaw back in place.” Cherri’s voice lowers. “You’re about to drool.”
I shush her under my breath. There’s a loud pop behind me, jolting me in my seat, and I turn and spot Dani, who’s back to jaw-smacking. They’re leaning so far in their chair that it should fall over—but it doesn’t. Unfortunately.
The professor glances up at the clock and hands off her notebook and other supplies to the hanging vines around the table’s edge. They disappear beneath the wood, and she says goodbye to us, closing out Bloomology and turning the class over.
Briar removes his black leather jacket, and a slip of the familiar insignia from Dani’s back is visible as he hangs it on one of the sculpted rose-gold tulip wall hooks.
“Those glasses sure do work for him.” Cherri appraises him shamelessly. “The inkwork isn’t too shabby either.”
It really isn’t. With his jacket off, vines and blossoms in a gradient of stunning strokes cover his thick biceps, wrapping around his arms and moving all the way down to the rose encompassing the back of his hand.
There are so many that I wish I could look closer at, pick them apart one by one, and admire the artistry that went into it all.
“Did you have any tattoos—before?” Cherri asks dreamily, looking her fill alongside me.
“No. I always wanted one, but I never knew what to choose.” I purse my lips, tracing the brambles descending beneath his neckline. “I wonder how many he has.”
“He’s got at least sixty flourish marks.”
My brows scrunch together and I shift my attention to her. “How do you know?”
“He’s a Radix,” she says with a shrug, as though that should be enough. “Every inch of their skin is inked.”
Every inch. My throat dries, focus drifting down his stomach where his dark jeans are tight in the best way. I huff at myself. My imagination needs to calm down.
Cherri rubs her hands together. “We’ll see soon enough.”
I cock my head at her. “What do you mean?”
She brings a finger to her lips and waves me to face the front of the room. “Class is in session.”
“Welcome to your first lesson in Transformational Studies,” Professor Briar says, making eye contact with every student.
“As I mentioned at orientation, this will be your most rigorous course of the curriculum. Our transformation is not only a difficult process to achieve, it’s imperative for your own safety to understand the ins and outs of how to move safely through the veil and mortal realm.
” His gaze drifts from Cherri and just as it’s about to reach mine, it skips down to the harbinger in front of me. “One mistake could cost you.”
“If we are immortal, why would it matter?” Dani calls out in a mocking tone from behind me. They’re leaning back in their seat, like they’re watching TV and not in a classroom where they’re supposed to be learning.
“Just because we’re immortal doesn’t mean we can’t experience pain or punishment.
” Briar’s attention shifts to the window and then down to the soil at his feet.
He rocks from side to side, plants his heels on the ground, and lifts his chin.
“Maintaining your earthside form to move through the mortal realm is crucial. Being able to shift back into your harbinger one is even more important. You can’t come back to this realm without being shifted. ”
“Why?”
“One step at a time, though I love the enthusiasm.” It isn’t until he answers the question, looking at me, that I realize I asked it aloud.
My cheeks warm under his attention. His lips pull up into a grin, and that heat sinks lower and lower, pooling in my lap.
I put down my pen and steeple my fingers on the desk.
“I’m going to show you the beginner way to shift.
It may not happen today for you. It may not happen for months. But it will happen.”
He has such a soothing tone. Even though I’m confused by what he’s talking about, I listen to every word.
“Now, you don’t have to be naked to shift.
But being able to remove your clothing and shift simultaneously takes more advanced focus magic than most of you currently possess.
If you aren’t used to nudity, I apologize, but you will be soon enough.
” Professor Briar crosses his hands over his stomach and folds the hem of his shirt into his clutches, lifting it above his head.
All of his beautiful muscles were noticeable beneath that soaked T-shirt, but that still didn’t do him justice.
“There’s nothing to be shy about in Florezca. ”
I mean, of course he’d make a bold claim when he looks like that. My eyes drop to my chest. A little boob lift for the afterlife really wouldn’t have been too much of an ask.
I shift in my seat and recross my legs in the other direction. “Is he doing what I think he’s doi—”
“Shh.” Cherri waves a hand at me but doesn’t make eye contact. “You’re interrupting my education.”
With a wiggle of his nose, every stitch of clothing is gone.
I’m. Speechless.
Cherri wasn’t lying. He’s truly tattooed everywhere.
There’s one empty patch of bare sage across his sternum and up the left side of his chest, but the rest of him is an impressive maze of flourish marks.
They map along his shaft and over the bulbous tip that’s tinged a darker green.
It bobs thick and heavy against his upper thigh.
I wonder what those marks look like when he’s hard. Are they textured silky like his skin?
What the hell, Monroe? He is your professor. Get it together.
Granted, he chose to be naked and this is far from a usual classroom situation.
If he’s nervous at all, it doesn’t show. And oof does it show.
He plants his feet on the soil and stares behind us at the wall. “Take in the warmth of spring. The soil beneath your toes, the smell of fresh flowers, the sun on your fur…”
Whatever he’s focusing on, I’m clearly not—
Wait… Did he say fur?
I want to continue admiring this spring Adonis, but his body begins shrinking and contorting, as if in slow motion.
His sage skin shifts, turning caramel brown.
Whiskers pierce through his cheeks. The pads of his feet widen out into thick paws.
Chestnut ears jut up from his scalp, the ends kissed with snowy-white fur.
My jaw hangs slack and my nails burrow into the wood of my desk. I tremble against my seat.
No fucking way…
My brows furrow, voice cracking on a whisper.
“Sir Thumps-A-Lot?”