Chapter 9 Reyna #2
“The King of Kings,” I say, referring to the name of the pig-headed king mixed-media piece that put him on the map when he was sixteen. “You should bring her to life like that.”
“Is that a suggestion or a critique?” He cocks a brow at me.
Maybe it’s bad that I’m enjoying this banter with him. When he’s not degrading me, his companionship is rather enjoyable. It helps that seeing him look like a man at his wit’s end makes him more relatable. Human, almost.
I lift a shoulder. “It’ll still be priceless either way you portray her.
If you want my true thoughts on it, then I’d say that your talent is once in a generation.
This?” I stare at the painting again. “Once you get her face right, I think it’ll be better than anything else you’ve ever created.
I’d say you’d have outdone yourself, Mr. Shaw. ”
When I look over at Maddox, his attention is on me, not the masterpiece in the making, looking at me like he isn’t sure whether I’ve lost my mind or, dare I say it, like I’m the art. It sets my skin ablaze.
I need to turn away to free myself from the trap he has me in. Nothing good can come from what’s happening.
But my body has other plans. I sway closer, wanting a taste of his depravity.
I’d love to spend a single day seeing how he views the world. I want to know what makes him pick up a paintbrush, or if there are colors he’s too hesitant to use because they don’t match the shades he’s given the universe around him. But I can’t, and I never will.
He’s my professor, and a legend in the art world. I’m just his student.
Maddox breaks the curse before I get the chance to understand the meaning behind the way his eyes darken more the longer they stay on me. The vehemence in his expression dissipates, replaced by the cold exterior he wears like armor.
“What did you want to see me about?”
“Oh, um.” I clear my throat.
Right, the whole reason I came here. The uninvited tour of his office has thrown me, and now I don’t feel like bringing up last night’s conversation.
I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry about how I acted earlier.
You were watching out for me, and I took it poorly.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone around to look out for me or tell me what to do, so it was a bit of a shock to the system.
” Kimi is more likely to get me into trouble than out of it.
“However, I do appreciate your concern, because you’re right, what I am doing is dangerous. ”
“Were,” he corrects. “What you were doing.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I believe that’s not what I said.”
I take it back. I want nothing to do with his beautifully creative mind.
“It isn’t,” he says matter-of-factly. “That’s why I corrected you, since you will not be visiting any more crime scenes from here on out.”
Like a petulant teen, I cross my arms over my chest, face him square on, and speak slowly so he hears every word loud and clear. “I’m going to continue doing what I’m doing, and you have no say in the matter, Professor Shaw.”
“The faculty would be interested in knowing.”
My heart stops for a second. I don’t understand why he’s pushing so hard. I should shut up, agree, then secretly keep doing it. But lying was never my strong suit.
He has nothing but audacity sometimes.
That’s fine. I’ll bite.
“Good luck convincing them.”
Shaw glares at me, though his eyes glint with amusement. “The police would be equally as interested.”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
The corners of his lips twitch like he’s holding back a grin. “I’ll mark you down for plagiarism.”
“Where’s your proof? That’d be easy to appeal.” I raise my chin. I feel more like a kid arguing over toys than something that could seriously harm me and my scholarship. “If you’re done with your threats, we can agree to disagree that my dates with the Shadow will continue.”
His entire being hardens like I just said something downright offensive, but his face goes expressionless. “If you took your education seriously, you wouldn’t be going on dates with anyone.”
My jaw drops. Oh my God, I’m going to kill him. “If I took my edu—” I clamp my mouth shut and take a deep breath. “You don’t need to worry, I take my education very seriously.”
I clap my hands together because slapping him isn’t an option, then say, “If we’re done going around in circles, we can call it a day and both be on our merry way. And if your free will also involves attending crime scenes, then I wish you all the best.”
He uncrosses his arms and places his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, resuming the deceptively relaxed facade he dons so well. “Fine. If you want to act recklessly, then so be it.”
I blink.
Oh. That was easy. I expected more of a fight.
“Good.”
“I’ll be accompanying you from now on.”
Wait.
Back up.
“Come again.”
His gaze turns heated. “That’s not something you want to say to me, Miss Sinaga.”
What is that supposed to mean—
Oh.
A shudder rolls down my spine. I don’t think my heart is beating.
He grimaces, then brushes it off like he didn’t just insinuate that. “Anytime you intend on visiting a crime scene, you will tell me, and we will go together.”
Huh? “No.”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not.” No fucking way.
“I apologize if you mistook my statement for a suggestion. If you want to go, I’m accompanying you.”
I gape at him. “I take my apology back. I am very much not sorry. Stop being so overbearing.”
“You want me to be more palatable, I want you to stop putting yourself in danger; not everyone can get what they want.”
“I don’t need you to be my goddamn babysitter.”
“Then it’s agreed. You’re acting like a child.”
I take a deep breath, look heavenward, then count to three. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. “Right,” I say, heading for the exit. “Thank you for your time this afternoon, Mr. Shaw.”
He shifts to the side, effectively blocking my exit with his imposing frame, trying and failing to appear relaxed. “I didn’t dismiss you.”
“Then it’s a good thing I wasn’t asking for your permission to leave.” And here he was calling me the child.
Shaw can give me his detached demeanor all he wants. I heard the dark rumble in his voice. The man is two seconds from blowing up. “We aren’t done here.”
“We never started.”
“Why are you being so difficult?”
“Why are you being so insistent?”
He scowls, stepping forward and invading my senses with his intoxicating presence. “Because you are so adamant that your safety is meaningless. Someone needs to make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”
Gone is the crappy, nonchalant exterior he tried fooling me with. The irritation is rolling off him, and I fucking love it. He’s fighting me for me. My professor genuinely cares.
“And that someone is you?” My words lack the tenacity I’ve been wielding for the past five minutes.
“Yes.” He takes one more step forward. I take one back.
The tremor returns to my hands, and the stupid fuzzy feeling in my stomach goes completely haywire.
“That someone is me, your fucking professor.” He says the last few words like he hates them.
It turns my blood molten and my pulse skyrocketing.
“Do not fight me on this, Miss Sinaga. My patience has scarcely been present, and my tolerance for disobedience is even more rare. You have no idea who you’re taunting. ”
I can’t speak. Can’t move.
Too much is flaring behind his eyes. Frustration, anger, want, heat. Things that he shouldn’t be feeling.
Goose bumps rain over my flesh. Maddox’s harsh breath fans my face; it trickles through the strands of my hair and kisses my warm skin in the softest caress.
Molten desire floods through me and turns my senses into a live wire.
Every sensation feels forbidden. This close, I could lean forward on my tiptoes and brush my lips against his.
I could run my fingers through his hair and feel the roll of his muscles against my skin.
These are not thoughts that I should be having. He’s my professor, for God’s sake, and I didn’t move across the country to screw my damn teacher.
The glint in his eyes frightens me at the same time it lures me closer.
The greens in them brighten the way nature’s most deadly plants would.
It’s feral and predatory, the type of deranged that could kill within the span of a heartbeat, and devour in less.
I commit the sight to memory, letting our ragged breaths fill the searing space between us.
I break the spell before I’m forever trapped. Swallowing, I keep our eyes locked as I move for the door, saying under my breath, “Have a good evening, Mr. Shaw.”
One of us should. That’s not in the cards for me anymore.