Page 18 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

“Sugar, you can have the whole fucking bottle if it means you’ll get that cute little ass back on that couch and start talking.”

“Fine.” A smirk formed on my lips. I all but sashayed past him, flicking my pink locks over my shoulder, right back into the sitting room. “Glad you think I have a cute ass,” I purred, then dropped said ass back into my seat. I lifted my feet, pulling my boots off and chucking them at Bastian’s dumb face. He caught them effortlessly, lifting his eyebrows before dropping them near the door.

While he poured another two fingers of whisky for me—this time bringing the whole bottle with him and setting it on the wooden tray—I took a deep breath and got started.

“I met Professor Miller while I was doing my undergrad at WU. She taught my art history classes. I knew I wanted to study historical art and cultures, history of things both known and unknown, stuff like that. Most humans don’t know it, but many ancient things have magical qualities⁠—”

“Wait.” Bastian halted me, resuming his seat. “You’re reminding me of another question. You’re human, no? And yet you knew I was a goblin. The same way you know certain things have magic?”

“Not the same, no. I know you’re a goblin because I can see through your glamor.” My hand went to the charm around my neck before I realized what I’d done.

“Ah. They’re both artifacts, aren’t they? Your necklaces?”

I held up the charm. “This one lets me see through glamor. It overlays it with an image of the person’s true self.”

“So, you can see my true form.”

“Not all the time. Just if I blink and focus or whatever. I see a flash of it.”

He hummed, thoughtful.

“We’re getting off topic,” I continued. “Professor Miller was head of the university’s archeological department. She convinced me to stick around and study there, to get my master’s degree. She became something of a mentor to me.” He didn’t need to know that my relationship with my mom was strained. That we’d had problems ever since my dad had died—even before. That Jane had filled a void my mother failed to. “As time passed, she became something of a good friend, too. I think she loved me like a daughter. We had a shared passion. That brought us together…”

“And then you left the university,” he finished when I’d let the silence stretch between us. “Why?”

“Right. Yes. I… Something happened. Not between Jane and I,” I clarified, so that he understood there were no hard feelings between us. “Someone…” I awkwardly cleared my throat. “It was something else. So I left. I found a different path in life.”

“Just like that? You gave it all up?”

I shrugged. “People change.”

Lifting my glass to keep from saying anything else, I drained it.

“I find that hard to believe.” He stared at me like he was suddenly desperate to peel back all the layers. I didn’t like it.

There was a long stretch of silence, during which I poured myself another glass. After a small sip, I looked up at him. My chest tightened with my next words, “I didn’t know that she had died until tonight. I saw it on the news, right before I left for the club.”

My eyes started to burn. I forced the tears back. The last thing I wanted was to cry in front of a stranger. Especially a sexy stranger who was sort of an asshole.

“I…” Swallowing, I forced my emotions down. “All I could think was that I’d never reconnected with her. I let things go between us. And then she just—died. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Damn this fucking alcohol. It was making me emotional. I grumbled and set my glass down. “If I have any more of that, I’ll turn into a mess. You should probably take it away from me.”

He ran a hand over the shaved side of his scalp. “Any idea who could have done this? Did she have enemies? Was there anyone who might have wanted her dead?”

My first instinct was to deny the possibility. Professor Miller was loved by everyone. She was strict with her students, but fair, and she always encouraged them to excel. Her work was her passion. Which was probably why she wasn’t very close with the rest of her family. I knew she had at least one sibling, a couple of nieces and nephews.

After her husband died, she threw herself deeper into her work and didn’t bother with much else. She’d never had kids, opting to focus entirely on her career. I was a part of her work, which was probably why she spared me the time.

A cold knot formed in the pit of my stomach. A nagging feeling that I couldn’t quite form into a coherent theory. I’d left the university because of Luke. He’d known about my closeness with Professor Miller. What if he’d found out what she’d done? How she’d hidden me from him? What if this was his way of taking revenge. What if he’d killed her to get to me⁠—?

“Well?”

“I… I don’t know.” I wasn’t ready to talk about Luke. There was no way in hell I’d share vulnerable parts of my past with him. Not even my friends knew, except Vivi. “I haven’t spoken to Jane for years, Bastian. I don’t feel qualified to make any assumptions. She could have met any number of people since then.”

Assuming it was Luke did feel like a stretch.

“Fine. Perhaps you should sleep on it. See if any new theories come to you.”