CHAPTER 38
J ust breathe. Just. Breathe.
I sat at the back of the campus bus, hoping to avoid any and all attention. Spencer had offered to pick me up at my dorm, but that felt a little too date-like . In retrospect, given the number of eyeballs glued to me right then, I regretted the decision.
My leg shook incessantly beneath the puffy tulle as the bus jostled about, and I prayed one of my boobs wouldn’t pop loose, because wouldn’t that have been the icing on the shit-cake?
The bus slowed to a stop at Carmady Hall.
One more stop, and I’d finally break free of the ogling from the other students returning to their dorms after the evening classes.
They weren’t even discrete about it, for crying out loud, and I had to keep my attention toward the window just to prevent any confrontational remarks flying out of my mouth.
The bus jolted into motion again, my breasts jiggling and testing the integrity of every stitch in the bodice. Kudos to Missy for whatever magical thread she’d used to keep it all together.
The next stop was Jaxstone Hall, but because the campus bus didn’t travel as far as Wattscrick Hall, where the gala was to be held, I’d have to cut through Canterbury Gardens. It was a ten minute walk, past the old mausoleum.
A little creepy.
Of course, I wasn’t entirely stupid. I had pepper spray tucked inside the ribbon at my waist, the one Jayda had given me just before I left for Dracadia.
When the bus finally stopped again, I damned near leapt to my feet. Mercifully, Missy had let me get away with black, embellished flats, when I told her how accident prone I was in heels. Not entirely enthused, but she’d conceded without much more than a quiet grumble.
“Can I get your number?” one of the passengers asked, as I breezed past. Probably a freshman.
I didn’t bother to turn and look at him as I hustled off the bus before the anxiety rattling through me could shake me off balance and send me tumbling to my face. Once on solid ground, I closed my eyes and took a breath, but at the sound of the door closing, I spun around and knocked on the glass.
Face scrunched with obvious irritation, the bus driver opened the door again.
“When is the last pickup?” I asked, fidgeting with the tulle of the my skirt.
“You’re looking at it.”
“Wait. You don’t come through here again?”
“Nope. You need a ride back? You’ll have to call a DracUber.”
“DracUber?” Of all the cheesy names … “Is it … like Uber?”
“Something like that.” She slammed the door shut on a waft of air that ruffled my hair, and took off down the street.
I hadn’t brought any cash with me to call for a ride. Shit.
Temperatures had dipped slightly, but the humiliation of the bus ride kept me nice and toasty as I stepped onto the path of the gardens.
My dress rustled over the concrete, and I was grateful Missy couldn’t see me right then, or she’d have probably thrown a fit about the hem getting sawed.
Overhead, the moon shone high, thank goodness, or it would’ve been a pitch-black trek around what had once served as a burial site.
Walking alone in the dark was nothing new for me, I’d done it so many times back at home, it didn’t even feel abnormal, or unusual. While I’d definitely run into my share of weirdos, I’d never actually been harmed.
However, I’d never worn a gorgeous ballgown with my breasts half sticking out of it before.
What few stray hairs hung from the loose French twist I’d clipped up stood on end, my muscles poised and ready to draw the pepper spray if necessary.
The gardens were peaceful, though.
Serene.
It felt a little like walking through a pristine, old English courtyard in a dream, with all the perfectly trimmed hedges, vibrant mums and colorful late summer blooms. I couldn’t wait to see the university in the thick of autumn. How beautiful it could look with all of the fiery oranges and reds.
The sound of crunching leaves sent me skidding to a halt, and I spun around, eyes scanning the surrounding shrubs and trees. I watched for any sign of movement, but found nothing. Not wanting to stick around, I kept on through the garden, ears piqued for any other sound.
Light up ahead caught my eye, and I could make out what looked like a glass-enclosed solarium.
My heart caught in my throat, and I stopped.
From where I stood, I sighted a crowd of people in their fancy dresses and tuxedos, the crisp white tablecloths below the soft glow of candles. The place oozed wealth.
Oh, God. What am I doing?
It was too fancy. Way too fancy for me.
I turned to leave, but paused when my gaze snagged on someone standing just outside of the solarium. Cigarette in hand, he stared up at the stars, but the sight of him in a perfectly-tailored black coat and slacks made my heart catch in my throat.
Bramwell.
Mascara’d eyes clenched, I sucked in three deep breaths, and swayed when a wave of dizziness swept over me.
Shaking it off, I kept my eyes glued to Professor Bramwell’s back, and I stepped out of the garden onto the Solarium’s patio, only a few feet from where he stood.
As if sensing my presence, he kicked his head to the side, not yet having turned to look at me, and panic wound in my stomach as I took in his perfect profile and that model-worthy jawline.
Hide , my brain urged. Don’t let him see you like this.
The moment he turned around, though, it was too late.
Our eyes locked. A chill wound down my spine as I took in the expression on his face.
Not an exchange between student and professor, but like two strangers.
Intentional and intense. I wanted to crawl inside myself and become invisible, for the way his gaze devoured me.
His broad shoulders tapered to a fit waist, and he stood with a drink in one hand, a cigarette in the other. I’d never seen him look so casual, yet imposing at the same time. The man filled his suit with a sharp, lethal grace and an air of authority.
An utterly thigh-clenching sight.
The world around me turned silent, a dark galaxy spinning with a gravitational force that drew me closer. Every nerve kindled to life under his stare, and my skin prickled.
“Lilia?” The voice from behind hit me like a cold bucket of water, and I turned to find Spencer, also decked out in a tuxedo. His eyes scanned me up and down, wide with fascination. “Jesus. You look … wow.”
A glance over my shoulder showed Professor Bramwell turning back toward the stars, undoubtedly disinterested in our meeting.
“Did you walk here?” Spencer asked, looking past me toward the garden.
Snapping out of my daze, I shook my head. “No. Campus bus.”
“You took the campus bus?” His brows winged up, and he shook his head. “Okay, it’s settled. I’m driving you home.”
“You have a car? I thought students weren’t permitted to have cars on the island.”
Wearing a smug grin, he shrugged. “Most aren’t. My family actually lives on the island, though. If you have residence here, or you’re staff, you can get a pass.”
“Must be nice.” Not that I had a car—or could afford one, for that matter.
“C’mon. You gotta be freezing.” He offered a bent arm, into which I reluctantly slipped mine.
“Just to clarify–we’re friends.”
Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. “Who hurt you?”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve never met someone so adamant about avoiding a date.”
“You’re not calling this a date, are you?” Frowning, I pulled my arm back, and he gripped it, holding it in his.
“Relax. We are two friends attending a charity gala.”
“Good.” Having established that, the tension in my muscles eased a bit. “What’s the charity for, anyway?”
“A pissing match for the wealthy, mostly. Pardon my French.”
“I prefer your French. It makes me feel less … posh.”
“The gala ultimately funds Professor Bramwell’s research, under the guise of conservation breeding.
” Another glance over my shoulder showed Professor Bramwell was no longer there, as Spencer led me through one of the glass doors.
“If I recall from the invitation, it’s to help maintain genetic diversity for the moths that are indigenous to the island.
Guess it was a requirement for using the Sominyx moths in research. ”
The air warmed to a very toasty temperature, as we stepped inside the solarium.
“Ah. So replace the moths in the environment that are killed in the lab.”
“Precisely,” Spencer said, leading me farther into the elegantly decorated room.
Black candelabras flickered about the space, giving a soft luminescence.
A sea of elaborate gowns and tuxedos had my stomach in knots, despite fitting in for the style of dress–in that respect, Missy did well.
Aside from a few younger faces–Kendall being one of them, as she sent me a death stare from where she stood beside one of the rugby guys that I recognized from the other day in the dining hall–the crowd seemed to be mostly older folks, which I supposed made sense at a charity event.
The stiff elegance was somewhat softened by the piano music that filled the pause between all the many conversations going on around me.
At the center of the room stood a glass enclosure that reached up to the high arched glass ceiling. Like an enormous version of the glass domes from our midnight lab, and inside, hundreds of the black Sominyx moths fluttered about.
“I’ll grab us a drink,” Spencer said, but his words hardly registered, as I released his arm and made my way over to the moths, fascinated by them.
Their black wings indicated no sign of infection, as I’d learned in midnight lab.
One moth had perched itself against the glass, and when I pressed a finger there, its wings flitted.
More moths flocked to my side of the glass, as if drawn there.
I glanced down to see the light reflecting off the little starflowers on my dress.