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I stalked into my classroom confidently without rush and scanned the myriad of faces looking back at me. Putting on my professor’s cap, I started my introductory lecture, setting aside thoughts of my little Eden for now. She would have to wait.
“If you didn’t print out the syllabus ahead of time, raise your hand so the people in front of you can pass them back.” Three-fourths of the class raised their hands. I took a note of everyone who didn’t. Those were going to be my overachievers. The ones who did all the work and extra assignments. The ones who were never late. The ones who would ask questions and were always hungry for knowledge. They could be linguists, or maybe just wanting to travel to Italy. Either way, they were going to be my talented students.
Fresh meat. That’s how I thought of these new minds. Most were straight out of high school, not knowing what they were going to do or who they wanted to be. This was the time for them to explore their newfound freedom and find themselves. They were baby adults. I thought back to my little innocent Eden. She was a baby-adult as well. Rather than being put off by it, I was secretly pleased. Her innocence would allow me to mold her into whatever I wanted. I could spend my time helping her grow into a sexual deviant. A savage grin spread over my face, probably scaring the poor freshies.
“My name is Mr. Caputo. I am your Italian professor. Before we get into my expectations of you, I want to play an ice breaker game. Once we’re done with that, we’ll talk about your goals for the semester and then the syllabus. All right, let’s start with you, young lady.” I pointed to a petite young woman in the front with glasses too large for her face.
Her expression contorted into one of fear at being the first sacrifice. She pointed at herself as if to double-check.
I nodded and waited while she stood to address the class. She’d been one of those who didn’t need a copy of the syllabus.
Her fear quickly morphed into confidence as she opened her mouth to talk. I had a feeling she wouldn’t need any help from me this semester, but I would touch base with her at least four times over the coming months. Cathy had it right. I truly went above and beyond for my students. It was part of my nature. And I was going to go above and beyond for Eden too…
Above her body, giving her orgasms beyond her imagination as I listen to her cries of pleasure. I’d corrupt her innocence, even if I wasn’t her first. I wasn’t overly concerned about the boys that came before me. She’d never had a man, I was sure, and in that, I would be her first.
I tuned out my class and let my obsessiveness take hold, sinking into my possessive fantasies. I’d tie her to my side and only let her up for air when she needed to eat. Living next to me would mean she wouldn’t have a reason to even return home. I’d fuck her ten ways to Sunday, every waking moment, every waking hour until she couldn’t walk anymore, and my dick felt like falling off. Then I would marry her. She didn’t know it yet, but she was well on her way to being Mrs. Silas Caputo.
Why? Who knew. I didn’t question my own sociopathic tendencies. Rather, I embraced them. And my brain wanted something more permanent with Eden.
It sounded crazy, but I didn’t care. She would be mine. Mine to taste, mine to corrupt. Even if I couldn’t have my underworld empire, I would forge a new life with a queen all the same. One in which the only blood I tasted was my woman when she had her period, though I would miss those days of brutal torture and executions. But no matter. There would be no stopping me. Eden was on my radar. She would bear my mark and my name before she bore me my child with eyes like hers. Then she would never leave me. I’d own her.
Mine. Forever.
CHAPTER THREE
Eden
Over the past week,I had avoided my hot neighbor like he had some kind of disease. In reality, he could very well have one. The sounds that came from his apartment on a near-nightly basis led me to believe he was either some kind of playboy or sex god. It was never the same girl either. I could tell by their voices and how they differed in reaction to his pounding.
Alone in my bed, forced to listen to him fuck yet another random girl, I touched myself. That had become a nightly ritual as well. The shame of it all made me want to avoid him even more. But the universe had other plans.
Despite my best attempts, I continuously ran into him everywhere I went. My eyes caught sight of him all over campus. Sometimes, I even physically bumped into him. In the library. In the cafeteria. If that wasn’t bad enough, I felt eyes on me wherever I went even when I didn’t see him. Things in my apartment had been moved around, and I was missing a few pairs of underwear.
It seemed so absurd that a man who had a different woman in his apartment nightly would bother stalking little old me, but my gut told me thatsomeonewas following me. Was it him? Was it another? I didn’t know who I could tell, especially when I had no proof. I kept my door locked and made sure I didn’t come off as flirtatious and interested. I kept my head down. I didn’t make friends.
It was all exhausting.
As I headed out, I locked my apartment door behind me, somewhat regretting that I had allowed myself to be scheduled after dark, not that I had much choice in the matter. I had signed up for work-study and landed the perfect job in the library, which was where I was heading tonight for my first shift.
Thankfully, I made it to the cavernous brick building without incident. Inside, I introduced myself to the main librarian, who was my new boss.
“Hello, my name is Eden Johnson. I’m here for the work-study position.” I held my hand out to the older woman at the front desk. She smiled. Her palm met mine, and she gave me two pumps, her grip solid and firm.
“Welcome,” she beamed.
She looked like the classic librarian seen in movies and such, with her conservative clothing and glasses that hung around her neck with a pretty necklace.
“I’m Adelaide Busso. I was surprised to receive your application. I normally get students who are working toward becoming writers or librarians themselves. Not chemistry majors. Come sit and tell me your plans for while you’re at Hampton.”
I dropped my backpack behind the large oak counter with a thud and sat down in the seat next to her with an audible sigh. “I actually want to be a geneticist, ma’am, with an emphasis in European pharmaceuticals.”
“None of that ma’am stuff, dear. You can call me Adelaide. Makes me feel younger,” she said, tittering.
“Adelaide it is,” I agreed.
“Why European medicine? It is different from US medicine?”
I nodded. “Oh yes. The focus is less on max profitability and more on providing medicine to everyone at a reasonable cost. Medicine cost 40% less in Europe than it does in the US.”
