6. Chapter Six - Willing Prey #3
“You’re lucky my ma was home to back you up,” I muttered, keeping my eyes fixed on the window. “She’s usually gone by the time I wake up.”
“How are you feeling?” he asked as the engine hummed to life, adjusting the heat as though he already knew I’d be cold.
I ignored the question. “Did you really wait outside for a long time?” The words slipped out, carried by a strange, uncomfortable hope. I tried to hide the warmth creeping across my face.
“Yes,” he said steadily. “But do not let that trouble you. I have plenty of time on my hands. Especially when it comes to you.”
I turned toward him, questioning how easily he admitted it.
There was no hesitation or uncertainty. Just calm serenity.
I looked away again quickly, unsettled by the warmth gathering low in my chest as the car rolled forward.
The heater hummed quietly while another thought drifted through me against my will.
I wondered if his skin would still feel cool beneath my fingers today, smooth and unyielding as marble.
“You left your car back in America,” he said suddenly, as though he’d reached into my thoughts and pulled something free.
“Yeah,” I replied. “We couldn’t bring it over. Ma said she’d get me a new one eventually, but I told her it was fine. School’s not far, and I enjoy running… or walking.”
“That will not be necessary,” he said as he pulled into the university lot.
I noticed then that he hadn’t buckled his seatbelt the entire drive, which made me frown. I unfastened mine and opened the door. “You should be safer while driving,” I said, deliberately sidestepping whatever he’d meant by that.
He laughed quietly. “Trust me. As long as you are safe, you need not worry about me.”
I didn’t understand the implication behind that sentence. It sounded more like a promise than an offhand comment.
“Sorry for being annoyed with you earlier,” I added quickly, awkward and rushed, as though I needed to redirect the conversation before my thoughts betrayed me again.
“When exactly?” he asked lightly as we walked toward the building.
I felt every stare the second we stepped onto campus.
My skin prickled beneath the attention. His reputation was terrible, and now, by association, so was mine.
The whispers pressed in from every direction, tightening around me with each glance and hushed comment until I felt painfully exposed walking beside him.
“When I came outside,” I said after a beat, “I was kinda grumpy.”
He tilted his head, his eyes bright with amusement. “To be honest, I enjoyed it. I enjoy your strong personality.”
I stopped short and stared at him. “Where do you even get the nerve to say stuff like that?”
“Do you find my honesty so offensive?” he asked calmly.
That was enough. I turned away, hiding my face in my palm as heat burned across my cheeks. “Honesty,” I murmured under my breath, the word tasting strange and bitter. Then I hurried past him into the seminar room.
The moment I stepped inside, whispers tucked beneath whispers rose around me, eyes flicking up and away a little too quickly. It was the sort of attention that pretended not to exist while making sure you felt every second of it.
I kept my head down and made my way toward my seat, my movements automatic as I tuned out the low hum of voices that weren’t bothering to lower themselves enough.
“She’s turned up with him again, has she?”
“Heard they were having a full-on snog outside Alcott’s yesterday.”
“Probably his girlfriend. Don’t gawk.”
“You’re taking a piss! He’s dating her?”
My reputation was moving faster than I was. I kept telling myself not to react, not to let on that I’d heard every word, but my shoulders still pulled inward. Somehow, I’d become gossip material in under forty-eight hours.
Ms. Halls walked in a second later, her presence slicing through the chatter like a switch being flipped. Conversations died abruptly, but the damage had already been done. The rumors would linger long after the lecture ended. They’d follow me through hallways and cling to me in common rooms.
I rested my head against my hand and tried to focus as she began speaking, but my thoughts drifted back to Culver without permission.
Today, he wore studded black cargo pants and a baggy hoodie threaded with subtle jeweled details, rings and chains catching the overhead lights when he moved.
His hair was a mess in the sort of way that looked intentional.
And of course I noticed that.
My gaze kept finding him even when I told myself not to look.
I’d known him less than twenty-four hours, and already he’d carved out a space in my head I couldn’t ignore.
I needed answers.
From other students or from Kiera. From anyone willing to talk without flinching or lowering their voice. I needed to know what was real and what was exaggeration, where the line sat between rumor and truth. Because whatever was happening, one thing had become painfully clear.
This wasn’t ordinary.
And as I sat there pretending to take notes while my pulse refused to settle, another realization settled quietly into place.
I didn’t know the future, but I wasn’t so sure I could walk away.