Chapter 5 Lie in Wait #2
And Orion’s signals are too damn erratic. Unless sabotaging the instrument had a deeper purpose, his rash behavior doesn’t align with the meticulous predator I’ve spent years profiling.
“Dr. Holbrook,” Banner says, regaining my attention. “I need to know how much longer this evaluation period will take. It’s been nearly three weeks already.”
Drawing my hands together, I rub my thumb over the faint pulse in my wrist. “I’ve already implemented safety measures and completed the protocols with Dr. Prescott for the symposium,” I say, keeping my tone neutral.
“Has there been any progress in relocating the research team from the main observatory?”
“Unfortunately, the board isn’t too eager to make changes.
” He adjusts his stance, exhaling audibly.
“Let me be candid with you. Dr. Night has potentially discovered something groundbreaking in his research, something that could put Stonehurst on the map. The board feels relocating Dr. Prescott from the observatory isn’t ideal. ”
An icy current of unease slips through me. They have their own eyes on Orion. “Understood,” I say.
Banner eases closer, lowering his voice. “It pains me to say this, but if your approach isn’t working, we may need a more decisive measure.” With a heavy sigh, he reaches inside his blazer and produces a folded document.
Wary, I accept the paper and unfold it slowly.
“If I’m being frank, the ideal scenario might be if Dr. Night weren’t present during the symposium. If he were somehow…detained.” He holds up a hand, as if it’s just an innocent suggestion. “Placed under observation, just temporarily.”
I skim the page. It’s a referral for a mandatory inpatient psychiatric evaluation. The dates of which conveniently coincide with the symposium. My name and credentials are printed at the bottom, awaiting my signature.
And there it is—the agenda.
Banner hired me to be his scapegoat. My only purpose here is to declare Orion unsound and have him removed.
“It’s just too risky,” Banner continues, trying to justify himself. “We can’t afford any incidents or interference during the symposium.”
I slip the document into the pocket of my briefcase, my gaze inadvertently seeking Orion down the walkway as I fight to smother the fire in my stomach.
“I can see how heavily this is weighing on you,” I say, injecting a grain of sympathy into my tone.
“Especially considering everything Dr. Night has contributed here.”
Banner glances away, but not before I see the flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Dammit,” he mutters. “I just keep hoping Rye will come back around.”
I place a gentle hand on his arm. “You’ve mentioned how stressful this field can be,” I remind him.
“It’s more than that,” he says, almost to himself. “Maybe there’s just too much loss for one person to come back from.”
I withdraw my hand. “I don’t follow. There hasn’t been any mention of that in his file.”
He releases a humorless laugh. “No, there wouldn’t be. Not in our field, when the mere suggestion of instability can ruin a career.” He straightens, pulling away. “I’ve done my best to protect him, but sometimes it feels like Rye is hellbent on that ruin.”
My grip tightens on the handle, heart rate rising. “If my method hasn’t been effective, maybe it’s time I try a more direct approach.”
Banner nods in reluctant agreement. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. Academia is full of secrets.” His gaze drops to my briefcase, underscoring his point before he offers a strained smile. “Have a good day, Dr. Holbrook. We’ll speak again soon, I’m sure.”
With that, he strides away, leaving me standing in the colonnade. I draw in a slow breath, loosening my grip on the umbrella, my pulse pounding in my fingertips.
“Shit,” I mutter.
I turn to find Orion moving against the tide of students, his eyes fixed on me. As he approaches, he studies me curiously, like an insect he’s just torn the wings from.
“You look bothered, Dr. Holbrook,” he remarks, leaning into my space, close enough that his shoulder comes within an inch of brushing mine.
Heat spills through my veins as I angle my head to meet his gaze. “You’re always so observant, Dr. Night.”
A hint of amusement flickers behind his eyes. He drags a gloved hand over his mouth and stalks away. As he reaches the arched column, he glances over his shoulder.
Smiles.
And that smile… A little cruel, a little hungry. A little entirely too beautiful. It makes my heart clench, sending blood flowing in reverse. A physiological response to my chosen male.
But while the femme fatale firefly may have the luxury to lie in wait, I no longer do.
Before he disappears from view, I mirror his smile, clutching the umbrella to my chest as if his protection is what I desire. What I need.
The art of seduction isn’t solely a psychological tactic—it’s a surrender of the heart.
According to Banner, Orion’s inciting incident spans more than a single moment, the damage running deeper than those tiny cracks.
To get closer, I need to do more than mirror him. I have to reveal some of my own cracks, letting him see the fracture lines.
Normally, I’d draw him out by creating intimate moments, becoming an anchor for him with subtle touches. Intertwining myself with his positive, pleasurable emotions.
Because once your target relies on you to bring them pleasure, the cold denial of your attention brings them pain.
And pain is the ultimate conditioning tool.
Yet Orion presents a complication here with his aversion to touch. Without that simple anchor, I’m forced to be more creative.
I pivot and head in the direction of my office, my heels striking the sandstone in a sharp staccato that echoes the firing beat of my pulse.
Whether protective or possessive, my hunter is a predator, a creature ruled by instinct and driven by a primal impulse he can’t deny. While Orion may be unlike others of his kind, all predators have the same innate weakness.
And nothing lures a predator more effectively than the scent of wounded prey.
If I attracted one monster, I can attract another.