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Vassago had been a constant visitor in my dreams, and in the waking hours, I felt him within arm’s reach everywhere I went. I noticed the motorcycle he’d been riding and was curious how he’d gotten it, but I figured it was better if I left that can of worms firmly tinned.
He’d been loitering on campus in solid form more often. I wasn’t sure if he knew that I was also keeping tabs on him, but it was hard to ignore the looks he would get from other women as they passed him.
As I sat in one of the coffee shops on campus on Thursday, he was forced to be my sentinel in his human form because of the western facing windows that chased shadows from the well-lit cafe. His eyes rarely detached themselves from me, which meant I was the one of us privy to the line of women giggling with their companions at the gorgeous man sipping a black coffee with two sugars.
“Did you see him? I wonder if he’s the new adjunct professor for the literature department,” a cute blonde said to her friend. “I bet he’s a master at linguistics.”
“Sign me up. I could use that kind of motivation to go to class,” her friend added before they found a seat positioned in his direct line of sight.
I smiled to myself.
His type of attention was obsessive and classically dangerous, but with his intense, dark eyes only shining for me, I could let my ego have the win. Anyone who saw him dropped their jaw, but I knew that only I existed in his world.
The rev of the flashy motorcycle behind me signaled that I’d made it home safely. He’d be close by until I turned the lights off. His routine was more predictable than my own at this point.
I parked my car in my driveway and pulled my messenger bag onto my shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the tall figure remove his helmet. He’d parked across the street again, this time not bothering to avoid the streetlight overhead. His gaze on my back felt hot, and I paused for too long, wondering if I should say something. Bid him goodnight?
With a calming breath, I shut the car door and walked to the edge of the driveway. The short distance felt like miles, but in the blink of an eye, he was standing over me.
“You don’t have to stay. Wherever you go after I go to bed—you can go there now.” I wasn’t sure what my point was, but I felt guilty for leading him on.
He peered down at me, his eyes as black as the night above us. “Or I could stay.” The low timbre of his voice rippled into my body, and I ached to agree.
“I don’t know why you would.”
His lips twisted into a crooked smile. “To protect my gift.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“Because you are mine. A gift to be treasured for the rest of my eternity.”
I shifted from one awkward foot to the other. “You’ve been guarding me.”
There wasn’t much room between our bodies, but the electricity I felt raging in that space could have started a fire.
His hand trailed up my arm, then his fingers brushed over my chin and his face dipped close to mine. “I could do a better job of it if you let me into your home.”
“You can’t come in?”
Was I really asking a demon why he couldn’t break into my house?
“I could. But I’d prefer it if you invited me.”
“Oh.”
His lips widened to a bright, telling smile. A panty-drenching smile that came with heavy eyelids and a posture that was too easy to melt into, like I belonged glued to his side.
“I’ll think about it.” And I would. For hours and days. “But for now, you should go. I’m headed to bed. I have to take Duncan to the train tomorrow morning.”
He raised his head and looked behind me. The muscles in his chest looked both soft and firm. I wondered if there was some sort of gym for only supernatural beings and, if so, when he had the time to go when he spent most of his day watching over me. My hand itched to reach out and feel his broad frame expand as he drew in another breath.
After staring too long, I cleared my throat, bringing his attention back to me.
“If you do change your mind, here.” He fished a round object out of the front pocket of his jeans. “Hold it tight and speak my true name. I’ll come.”
I had no doubt.
The cold metal disk warmed in my fingers quickly, as if it recognized me. Its dull surface was etched with the same boxy beetle I’d seen on the planchette. When I looked up to give him some sort of gratitude, he was gone. So was the motorcycle. He hadn’t ridden it away, so I knew he’d left for the night.
