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“Someday,” he promises, lips curled up, “you’ll let yourself give in to what you want, muse. To all of it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
SAINT
Killher.
My muse thought I was waiting in her house to ambush her. To hurt her. The thought churns my stomach. All I want is to protect her, keep her, love her, worship her.
Someday, she’ll realize that.
Today, Briar ventures away from the syllabus, delving into plot structure and story beats while Professor Molester types on his laptop, ignoring her lecture. Her cheeks flush adorably as her excitement grows with every new bit of knowledge she imparts, though her bright blue gaze continues darting in my direction. Perhaps making sure I’m not moving from my seat to lunge at her.
I would love to, but for a far different reason than she fears.
After Briar finishes her lecture and answers a few questions from the class, Professor Molester reminds us about the writing retreat next semester. “Local author S.T. Nicholson has graciously offered his private residence for the week of our retreat.”
Briar’s eyes light up at the mention of her favorite author. I knew that would make her happy.
“Attendance isn’t mandatory but highly recommended.”
I don’t miss the salacious way his gaze roams over Briar’s body like he’s hoping this secluded writing retreat away from campus will be his opportunity to truly get his hands on her. Like she’s his for the taking.
My fists clench in my lap.
“You can sign up now if you’re interested. Bri—Dr. Shea will collect names. You have until the end of the semester to make your final payments.” Professor Molester murmurs something in my muse’s ear on his way out. I’ll start digging his grave tonight.
Once he’s out the door, she straightens her shoulders in her seat and rests the sign-up sheet in front of her. I wait until everyone else has gone through the line before grinning at her and signing my name.
She scowls and darts a glance around the room before leaning forward and hissing, “I don’t think you’ll be going on the retreat.”
“But I’m so looking forward to spending more time in your company.”
“That’s unfortunate because you’ll be in jail by then.”
I raise an amused brow. “Jail? Is that so? And how do you propose you’ll make that happen?”
She snatches the sign-up sheet, stuffs it in her bag, and heads for the door. “By proving to the police what you’ve done, obviously.”
I stick by her side as she heads for the sub stand. Before she can place her order, I call, “Two ham and cheese subs on wheat bread. Four slices of ham, two slices of Provolone each, and a dash of mayo. Thank you.”
Briar narrows her eyes at me. “You memorized my order?”
“Told you I know you.”
“Why did you order two?”
“I love what you love.”
She scowls. “Next time, I’m ordering turkey with tuna, mustard, and pickles.”
I chuckle. My muse has a sense of humor. “Then I can’t wait to watch you gag.”
She chokes on air until the student worker behind the register hands her a bottled water. I follow her outside and sit beside her at the umbrella table, her nose scrunching in that adorable scowl again. “I don’t dine with murderers,” she hisses. “You need to leave me alone.”
“That will be difficult to do as your student. I was actually hoping we could spend more time together.”
She unravels her sandwich, feigning casual disinterest. “You won’t be my student for long because, like I said, you’ll be thrown in jail for your crimes.”
