CHAPTER 38 #2
“Drawn to light.” At the sound of the deep voice, I turned to see Professor Bramwell staring through the glass only a couple feet away from me. The sight of him stirred my pulse, just as before.
“There are so many of them. Where did they come from?”
“Purchased from a breeder here on Dracadia. The university’s penance for using them to study Noctisoma. Dracadia is the only place these moths call home, so their numbers could deplete, if we’re not careful.”
“They’re the organism’s natural host, though, aren’t they?”
“Yes. But not every moth is doomed to be infected. Only the curious ones.” With a glass of champagne in hand, he stepped closer, toward me, yet careful to keep distance between us, it seemed, as he came to a stop at some invisible line. “Do you see the latch on the ceiling up there?”
Peering upward showed a glass door, of sorts, at the roof of the solarium, a gap between the panes where it didn’t fuse as tightly as the others. “Yes.”
“They’ll open at the end of dinner and release the moths into the wild.”
“I’m sure the bats are looking forward to it.”
His lips curved upward, and the dark chuckle that followed had my stomach as much aflutter as the moths. “Fortunately, the uninfected ones are a bit savvier at survival. Although, that would be a much more merciful end, don’t you think?”
“I suppose it would. I couldn’t imagine being an insect. Pursued by so many dangerous things.” I dared a glance, and found him looking at my lips, where I’d reapplied the lipstick before leaving my dorm.
“You need to pay closer attention, Miss Vespertine.” He twisted around, as if scanning the room, which compelled me to do the same.
Spencer, staring at me from across the room, wore a curious expression.
“I see you and Spencer are hitting it off.” Professor Bramwell kicked back his drink and, as one of the uniformed women passed with a tray of champagne flutes, signaled for another.
I couldn’t help but notice the flirtatious smile on her face, as he took the drink without even bothering so much as a glance at her.
She turned toward me, her brows winged up over striking gray eyes. "Voulez-vous boire un verre, mademoiselle?"
While I recognized the sultry words as French, one of the native languages spoken by locals on the island, I had no idea what she’d asked. “I’m sorry, I don’t entirely understand. Are you asking if I’d like a drink?”
A smile slanted her lips and when she nodded, I answered with a polite, “No, thank you.”
Her smile lingered another moment, before she slid her attention back toward Professor Bramwell whose eyes were on me then. “Si vous comprenez, retrouvez-moi dans le placard dans dix minutes.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched and he dragged his attention from me to the server.
“Je comprends. Et je décline votre offre.” The smooth cadence of his voice held an alluring fluency that left me both intrigued and wanting more.
Whatever he said to her, though, seemed to knock her composure off kilter, as the server rolled her shoulders back, offered a clipped nod, and sauntered off.
I stared after her, puzzling their interaction.
“You never responded to my inquiry,” Professor Bramwell said, interrupting my thoughts and sipped his new glass of champagne.
My mind wound back to his last comment about hitting it off with Spencer. “We’re just friends.”
“Friends,” he echoed, as his eyes cruised south, down the length of my gown and back.
I’d been ogled by men since I’d first sprouted breasts, but Bramwell’s gaze held something different. Something I wanted to study and unravel, without all the other people in the room. An unspoken command, and the unsettling tension that had my bones vibrating.
An intricate maze I wanted to get lost inside.
Warmth rushed beneath my skin, undoubtedly leaving me flushed.
It was strange seeing him that way–without a book in his hand, or antsy to stride off somewhere. It almost seemed as if he didn’t know what to do with himself in the setting.
Not unlike me.
“To be honest, I feel a little out of place here.” I glanced around, catching the stares of a few guests–men and women. “It feels like everyone knows I’m dirt poor.”
“You think they’re staring at you because you’re poor?
” He buried a smirk in his drink and tipped back a long swill that emptied the glass.
His jaw flexed with the clenching of his teeth as he swallowed.
“The wealthy possess an insatiable appetite for the rare and priceless. They stare because you’re the only thing worth staring at. ”
The air turned heady, tickling my chest with each intoxicating inhale. Cheeks flushed, I turned away and caught sight of Spencer waving me over to where he stood among a few men, including his father.
I didn’t want to go to Spencer, though. I wanted to stay there, with my professor, fighting to catch my breath. Beside me, the moths fluttered about, their movements mirroring the sensation in my stomach every time the man opened his mouth.
“Go, Miss Vespertine,” Professor Bramwell whispered, his proximity setting my nerves aflame. “You’re far too young to live a life without mistakes.” On those parting words, he strode off with an air of arrogance that made my knees weak.
My head urged me to follow him. I wanted to.
Instead, I made my way over to Spencer, who handed off a dark, purple-colored drink.
Studying it, I frowned at the deep color, through which I couldn’t see the bottom of the glass. “What is this?” I gave it a sniff, noting nothing more than a sweet berry scent.
“Just punch,” he said and took a sip. “If you think the good provost would let me get away with spiking it, think again.”
Mouth dry after the encounter with Professor Bramwell, I took a sip, and the sweet flavor hit my tongue with an unexpected delight. “It’s really good.” I took another sip, trying to place the taste of it. “What’s it made out of?”
“No idea. But I guarantee a shot of rum would’ve made it even better.”
“I’ve never tried rum.”
“Oh, we have to remedy that. Not tonight, obviously.” With a slight nudge to my arm, he urged me back toward the group of men with whom he was standing a moment ago. “I want to introduce you to my father.”
The thought of coming face to face with a man who had participated in the research study that may, or may not, have resulted in my mother’s death felt a bit heavy for the evening. While I’d have loved to have needled his brain for some answers, the dress had me feeling off-guard. “I don’t know.”
“It’s fine. He’s had a few drinks. It’s probably the best time to meet him.”
Perhaps if he got drunk enough, he’d forget ever seeing me there. With reluctance, I followed after Spencer, stealing another sip of my drink.
“Father, I would like to introduce you to someone. This is my friend, Lilia.”
A flicker of consternation flashed over the provost’s face, before he smiled and reached out a hand toward me. “Lilia. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Spencer tells me you’re a pre-med major, as well.”
“Well, I haven’t exactly decided on med school yet. I’m wavering a bit.”
“I, um … I’m sorry for my strange behavior that day in the dining hall. I didn’t mean to be rude. You simply took me by surprise.”
“How so?”
“You remind me of someone I knew.”
“Oh? Who?” I played, knowing damn well who. While the question tickled the tip of my tongue, begging me to ask him what he knew about the deaths of those six women, I bit it back.
Waving his hand in dismissal, he chuckled. “I see so many faces pass through this university, it’s hard to pinpoint where, or who, exactly. Strange how our brains work that way, isn’t it?”
“Very strange. You seem familiar to me, as well,” I lied.
Another one of the servers, a young, bright-eyed blonde, stepped toward us and placed a hand on the provost’s arm in a way that struck me as a bit intimate. She leaned in to whisper something in his ear, and I caught his gentle squeeze of her hand.
He nodded and released her. “Dinner is to be served soon. Lilia, will you join us at our table?”
“Sure.” Even if I’d have preferred to sit with the moths.
The provost led our small group toward a round table that sat eight, and everyone settled into a chair, Spencer beside me.
An older man I didn’t recognize offered a wink, as he slid into the seat to my left, instantly kicking up my discomfort. An equally-aged woman, dressed in embellished jewels, claimed the seat on the other side of him.
Across from us, the provost took his seat, stealing the occasional glance toward me and only breaking the maddening habit when a man passed behind him, patting him on the shoulder.
“May I ask how old you are, young lady?” The man beside me leaned toward me just enough that my defenses reared up again.
I cleared my throat and took another sip of my drink, before setting it down on the table. “Twenty.”
“Such a wonderful age. I remember being twenty years old. Attending this very university. Rugby captain.”
“Wow. That’s great.”
“Charles Dandridge,” he said, holding out a pudgy hand toward me.
“Lilia,” I answered, returning his handshake.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lilia.” His gaze dipped low, and there was no doubt in my mind where it had landed. “I was quite the ladies’ man back then.”
“I’m sure.” I cleared my throat again and turned away from him. In doing so, I caught sight of Professor Gilchrist making her way toward our table.
Don’t sit here. Please don’t sit here. Please don’t sit here.
To my utter dismay, she took the seat beside the provost, and the smile on her face faded the moment her gaze landed on me.
With a sheepish, tight-lipped smile, I gave a small wisp of a wave.
Of course, she didn’t wave back.
A forced smile creased her eyes as she slid into the chair. In as subtle a move as I could muster, I turned toward Spencer. “I didn’t know Gilchrist would be here,” I whispered. My mind flashed back to the day in the alley when I’d seen the two of them together.