Chapter 35 Rumors and Shadows
Despite coming together to rescue my mother and Amy, all we could do was train and monitor the situation until we could figure out where my mother was being kept.
We were left with what felt like too much time to fill.
A week into Hecate’s training, we’d perfected the art of looking normal.
Classes, coffee runs, the usual campus routines—all carefully maintained to avoid drawing attention while we monitored the handful of students whose names kept surfacing in connection with Ekklesia.
May and Hecate had woven a strong barrier around Amy’s hospital room, something that made Dr. Ford’s visits impossible—he’d tried twice and turned back both times, confused and frustrated. Now we just had to keep pretending everything was fine until we were ready to burn it all down.
Friday morning rolled around. I dressed in jeans and a fitted sweater, fixed my makeup, and tried to look like a normal student, not someone planning to do highly inappropriate things with her professor afterward.
I made it to the lecture hall with five minutes to spare and took my usual spot six rows back, Luz at my side.
Across the way, I could hear a couple of girls talking.
They kept glancing back towards Luz and me, which only made me feel awkward.
“That podcast is insane,” one girl was saying to the other. “My cousin said one of his classmates was hospitalized by that study.”
Luz nudged me enthusiastically while I attempted to ignore them, my ears burning.
Kian entered at nine on the dot. The room settled into attentive silence as he moved to the front, dressed in dark slacks, white button-down with sleeves rolled to his elbows. When his eyes swept the room and landed on me for just a fraction too long, my pulse jumped.
“Transformation in Greek mythology,” he said, his voice that perfect professor tone, “was rarely chosen. It was imposed; punishment for hubris, consequence of divine anger, desperate escape from violence.”
He turned to write on the board: Agency vs. Imposition
“But in some stories, transformation was a gift. Salvation. Daphne lost her form but escaped assault. She became eternal and untouchable.” He paused, scanning the room. “Was that tragedy or triumph?”
I tried to take notes, but my attention snagged on the cut of his jaw when he turned, the way his hair fell into his eyes, the flicker of a smile when a student asked a clever question.
I watched his hands and could only think about those same hands on my skin.
His gaze found me again for just a breath too long, and even from six rows back, I felt it like a physical touch. Heat rushed through me.
He knew exactly what he did to me.
Something hit my arm. I jerked my head to glance at Luz, her eyebrows raised, lips quirked in amusement. She mouthed: Subtle.
My face burned, and I forced my attention back to my notes.
“Before we continue,” Kian said, his tone casual, “you’ll find your next writing assignment in your desks. Please take a moment to review the prompt.”
Around me, students reached into their desk compartments. The rustle of paper filled the room. I opened mine and found a folded square of paper, smaller than the others I glimpsed around me. I unfolded it, heart thudding. His handwriting slanted across it in dark ink:
“After class. My office. Don’t make me wait, Persephone.”
My breath caught, a blush burning my cheeks. My hands trembled as I pressed the note flat against my thigh.
I looked up and found him watching me from the front of the room. His expression remained perfectly neutral, but his eyes held mine for a beat too long. The corner of his mouth twitched, barely perceptible.
Beautiful, evil bastard.
Luz leaned over, eyes bright with mischief.
“You okay?” she whispered. “You look a little flushed.”
“Shut up,” I hissed.
The rest of the lecture was torture. My notes devolved into incomprehensible half-sentences and spirals.
Kian’s voice remained steady, controlled, discussing Ovid’s Metamorphoses like he wasn’t aware of every breath I took, every time I shifted in my seat, every desperate attempt to focus on anything but the ache building low in my stomach.
When he finally announced, “That’s all for today,” I was out of my seat before he’d finished the sentence. Luz winked at me.
“Have fun,” she said, eyes dancing. “Try not to combust before you get there.”
“You’re the worst.”
“You love me anyway.” She squeezed my hand. “Go. He’s waiting.”
My feet carried me straight to his office building, heart hammering with every step. I took the stairs instead of the elevator and checked the fourth-floor hallway before stepping into it.
He’d given me a key to his office days ago. I slipped inside, closing the door behind me with a soft click. The room had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and an antique desk. Shadows curled at the corners.
Kian was already there waiting, leaning against the desk with arms crossed, and the look on his face made my knees weak. Darkness rolled off his shoulders, fresh from teleporting.
“You,” I hissed, holding up the sticky note like an accusation. “Are incorrigible—”
His brows lifted, that wicked half-smile playing at his lips. “It worked, didn’t it?”
I wanted to deny it, but the heat crawling up my neck betrayed me. He pushed off the desk, closing the space between us until my back hit the door. One arm leaned against the door, caging me in, while his knuckles grazed my jaw.
“Here you are, exactly where I wanted you.”
I shoved at his chest half-heartedly. “I came to discuss the reading. Very important academic questions.”
“Liar,” he murmured, leaning closer, his breath warm against my skin. “You came because you couldn’t wait. Because that note made you think about all the things I’ve done to you, all the things I have planned for you.”
The words stripped me bare, my face burning.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he whispered, his teeth grazing just under my ear.
I shuddered and yanked him down into a heated kiss. He made a sound low in his throat and kissed me back with the same desperation. His hands found my hips, and suddenly I was moving until the desk hit the back of my thighs.
Papers scattered as he lifted me onto the edge, pushing between my legs. I gasped, clutching at his shoulders as he dragged his lips and teeth along my neck.
Someone rapped on the door, and we froze.
For a split second, we stared at each other. A wicked idea bloomed in my mind, and I grinned. I could see the exact moment he read my intention. Alarm flashed across his face, followed by something darker. He mouthed silently: Don’t you dare—
I slipped off the desk and dropped to my knees, crawling under the desk before he could stop me, settling into the space with a smile that was pure mischief.
He stared down at me as he sank into his chair, eyes blazing, and mouthed the word “behave” with an urgency that made it clear he knew I absolutely would not.
“Come in,” Kian called out.
The door creaked open, and I heard footsteps. A male voice I recognized from class spoke up. Stoner Steve, the universe had a sense of humor.
“Professor Ward? Sorry to bother you, but I had some questions about our next paper.”
“Of course, Mr. Whitman,” Kian managed, admirably professional even though his student’s classmate was currently crouched between his thighs. “What aspect of the assignment needs clarification?”
“Well, so, I’m doing my next paper on Thor, the Norse god, right? And I’m trying to figure out how historical sources describe his temperament. Like, was he actually as volatile and aggressive as the myths suggest, or is that just propaganda?”
I should’ve stayed still, but the temptation was too great. My hand slid up Kian’s thigh slowly, feather-light. His voice caught mid-sentence.
He recovered quickly, “Yes, accounts vary considerably, but most sources agree that beneath the warrior reputation there was a more complex temperament.”
I traced deliberate patterns on his inner thigh. His hand dropped beneath the desk, fingers sliding into my hair in warning.
But I was committed now.
My fingers found his belt buckle, working it open with careful silence. Kian’s grip in my hair tightened as I used my teeth to pull down his zipper. I freed him from his pants and wrapped my hand around him. He was already half-hard and growing in my grip.
Above me, he cleared his throat. “Secondary sources are essential for your paper. In fact, I would encourage—”
I traced my tongue along the underside of his shaft from base to tip, and his words cut off.
“Professor?” Steve asked. “You okay, man?”
“Fine,” Kian rasped. “Headache. Continue with your question.”
“Oh, shit, should I come back later?”
The sensation of cool tendrils of shadow sliding against my skin beneath my jeans made me jolt in surprise. I nearly gasped, biting down on my lip to stay silent. The shadows moved through the fabric as though it wasn’t even there, ghosting along my inner thighs with maddening lightness.
Oh, you bastard.
I took him into my mouth, and his breath hitched. His shadows responded, sliding higher, teasing me through my underwear.
“No,” Kian said, too fast. “No, we can finish this now. You were asking about the historical accounts.”
His hand guided my head down, taking control of the pace. My hands braced against his thighs as he pushed deeper. The shadows between my legs grew bolder, one tendril sliding against my clit with perfect, torturous pressure.
I nearly choked, my throat constricting around him. My hips shifted, seeking more friction, but the shadows pulled back, teasing.
“Yes,” he continued, his voice rougher. “Yes. In fact, I have several texts on Thor in my personal library. I can lend you a few that would strengthen your research.”