AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nope,” Tor replied, quite mildly. He lifted an iced coffee cup and held it out to me and I swore my heart melted into a pile of sap. “Here’s the coffee you wanted last night. I noticed you left it in your car when it broke down.”
I blinked, a smile forming. “How did you even find me?” Ford was huge… Had he used death god magic to locate me?
“Oh, I memorised your schedule,” he said casually. “Have fun in your Circulation and Breathing lecture this afternoon.”
He ducked closer while I was disarmed and pressed a kiss to my forehead, then glanced at Honey and Byron who’d been struck both still and silent. Miracle of miracles.
“Goodbye, Cat’s friends. Goodbye, my cute little succulent.”
“Goodbye, Tor,” I laughed, completely stunned, utterly flushed, and probably beet-red. “Thank you for the coffee.”
I glanced down at the clear cup, my heart stuttering when I saw the message he’d written there: you are so beautiful it’s like a knife to the heart. When I lifted my head, he’d slipped away again.
“Marry him,” Honey said suddenly and seriously, grasping my arm. “He’s hot, he’s sweet, he’s got a unique term of endearment for you. What else do you need?”
“A massive cock that knows what it’s doing?” Byron suggested, making me laugh. By was the grumpiest and quietest of us, and by far the dirtiest. I bet he’d know all those kinks I listed to Honey.
Honey pointed at him like he had a point, then pinned me with a bright blue stare. “As soon as you see his cock, just propose on the spot, Cat.”
I shook my head, amused and—happy. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
“You do that.” She hugged me suddenly, brushing her cheek against my shoulder. “I’m in the Ingrid Morris Building next, but I’ll see you later?”
“Meet in the library?” I suggested.
She headbutted my neck in response, which could have meant anything, grabbed Byron into a fierce hug, and then slinked out the door with a grace she hadn’t possessed last week.
“The crazy lady’s right,” Byron said with a laugh, shaking his dark head. “Based on the coffee and the nickname, that guy’s a keeper. But be careful, alright? There are some psychos out there, and he did memorise your schedule. That’s red flag number one.”
“I know,” I assured him, squeezing his arm but not quite able to push off the warmth of Tor bringing me coffee. I’d worry about the stalking later. “I’ll be careful. And you be careful with—” I clicked my fingers. I’d already forgotten his name.
“Gustin,” Byron supplied.
“Yeah, that guy. You be careful, too.”
“I will.” He backed away a step. “See you later?”
“Deserter,” I teased. “Everyone’s leaving me.”
“You’ll live,” he teased right back, and tugged his collar up before he went outside, leaving me alone.
Right now, I hated being alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CAT
The back of my neck burned. I squirmed in the uncomfortable plastic chair in the cold basement room, trying to pay attention. Ironically, I was struggling to breathe while Professor Lancashire, a stout, bespectacled man with greying hair, explained the airways of the body in acute detail. Anxiety was a bitch.
At least I was getting my car back; the mechanic called while I was on my way down, and it turned out there was nothing wrong with my car at all. He still expected five hundred pounds, and I knew he was overcharging because Ford students were privileged, but I was just happy to be getting my car back.
My neck burned more intensely, and I reached back to itch it, convinced someone had their eyes on me. I took a subtle peek, pretending to reach into the satchel hanging on the back of my chair and—yep. There was a guy staring at me so intensely I’d think he hated me if I’d ever met him before. But he was a stranger.
I didn’t even recognise him from the ill fated Halloween party, or from the people who’d got caught in the crimson light outside. I’d never seen this man before—his face was all sharp angles, cut cheekbones, and stern beauty under a mop of black hair, with eyes the colour of ice behind wire-frame glasses. They pinned on me like he was picturing skinning me alive.
I quickly turned back around, my heart quickening. Was he in the cult of Nightmare? Cold dripped down my spine, a sharp contrast to the scalding burn of his glare, and I slid my phone out of my pocket to text Byron but… I bit my lip. He was stressed enough as it was. I texted Honey instead, my fingers flying over the screen while I tried to look attentive to the lecture.
There’s a guy staring at me. Not in a she’s hot kinda way, in a planning to drug me, throw me in the boot of his car, and bury me in a hole in his garden kind of way.
