Page 8

I don’t want to look up, because I have a feeling I know who is looking at me, and I also know that if I look at him, he’s going to do something—anything—that will make me feel weird.

I can’t lose my own nerve during the first class, can I?

I keep my eyes on my own screen for what feels like an eternity, clicking randomly, because I don’t know what to do with myself while I feel watched.

When I finally look at the clock, only ten minutes have passed, and I can’t take it anymore. I lift my face and meet Louis’s golden eyes. Knowing it was going to happen doesn’t make me more prepared for the sight, though, and if I wasn’t already sitting, I probably would have felt my legs turning to jelly under me with the intensity of his stare.

What is wrong with him?

And even more importantly, what is wrong with me?

He’s my student. I’ve never been this aware of one of my students. This shouldn’t be happening. This can’t be happening. Especially knowing that my class is under scrutiny by my boss and everyone on the council.

By the time all my students have finished their tests, Louis is the only one left in the room, and I’m already regretting telling him to stay after class to double-check his email registration.

But it’s not like I had another solution.

“What’s wrong with my email, Constance?” Louis asks me, and I feel slightly off-balance at his words.

I did not give my class my first name. Knowing that I mostly teach classes to people who are over eighteen years old, I usually make sure the only name they hear from me is my last name.

They’re not supposed to call me anything other than “Miss Jardin” or just “Miss,” and certainly not my first name.

How did he get it?

I’m not necessarily a very private person, but all of my socials are still set on “private” and have no mention of my first or last name.

A knowing smile spreads on Louis’s lips, and I know he detected my reaction. This confirms what my mind has started to piece together since he arrived. Louis is a shifter, and whatever species he belongs to, I’m sure it’s one that can either smell or hear someone’s bodily reaction.

He likes the way my body reacted to him saying my name.

And I hate it.

I feel exposed.

And I hate even more the fact that I’m now feeling self-conscious when I’ve done nothing wrong.

But even if he can read my body’s reactions, I’m not going to give him power in my own classroom.

5

Louis

Ican hear the wild beating of her heart.

I know she wasn’t expecting me to know her first name, and even less to dare to use it, but knowing I managed to get this sort of reaction from her is thrilling.

She doesn’t let me celebrate my little win, though.

“It’s Miss Jardin for you, Mister Dumont. We don’t use that kind of familiarity in my class,” she says, tipping her face up from her screen to look me in the eye.

I like that.

With their heart beating so fast, most people would not try to look whoever triggered that reaction within them in the eye.

It makes me wonder if she would look away if I said or did something bolder. What would be her breaking point?

I’m intrigued.