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His kiss was a forest, and Allison a little red-cloaked girl. His lips a candied cabin, and she lost and starving. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be found.
Wendy cleared her throat, and Colin dropped Allison’s hand as if he’d been yanked away.
“You’ve got this,” she whispered as he turned back to the dais.
Hopefully, her words could break through the pressure he was putting on himself. Everything about graduate school was already amped up and urgent. Every time they spoke in class, every paper they wrote, every breath they took on this campus felt capable of tipping the scales. One perfect presentation could lead to a career-defining mentorship, while one off day, one bad paper, could be the difference between ABD (all but dissertation) status or a terminal MA (and dismissal from the program). No wonder Colin looked like he’d spent too long crammed in a waffle iron. He had no other options if Claymore didn’t work out.
He shuffled his way toward the podium as Wendy called the class to order and introduced Colin. Some of the students clapped, a few others cheered.
Allison’s insides twisted but she clamped down her jealousy. Colin had the right to be good at something.
His eyes settled on her as he cued up his monitor. His lips crimped up at the corners, as if the sight of her fortified him. She shook her fist in the air, a subtle sportsball cheer.
As the projector screen lit up and Colin’s display bled into focus, Allison tried to guess what kind of image he’d use on the title page. Knowing him, he’d find something grossly pornographic to shock people. A really bawdy piece of medieval art or some NSFW cartoon. Maybe a still right out of a modern porno.
Even with all those guesses, what appeared made Allison’s heart halt.
The cover photo was of a beauty pageant. Seven women graced the stage. Six of them, three on each side, were beautifully coifed, their hair styled to shine, sleek satin dresses hugging their curves, diamonds raining off their skin. Only the woman at the center wore a crown, a bouquet of roses clutched to her chest. Unlike the others, her dress was ragged and full of holes, her makeup smeared. Bald patches on her scalp peeked out from under her elaborate bun, and her skin was tornand bloody. Her eyes were black holes, her teeth bared and dripping with dark fluid.
Across the top, an elegant script read:Beauty Is a Beast.
Allison was on her feet and out the door before Colin began to speak.
Chapter 34
Unknown Number: Where did you go? [deleted]
Unknown Number: I was going to explain everything after the lecture, remember? I meant it when I promised you that. [deleted]
Unknown Number: Allison. Please talk to me. [deleted]
Unknown Number. I love you. [deleted]
Allison Avery: Leave me alone.
Chapter 35
“For, though myself be a ful vicious man, A moral tale yet I yow telle kan,” or Why Colin Benjamin is a lying, swindling assbag and does not deserve a mentorship
He plagiarized. One of the academic mortal sins. Fraud is the eighth circle of hell inThe Inferno.
He slept with Allison solely to steal her work. He actively manipulated her with this sole intent. He should be cloned and placed in that eighth circle twice.
Did he actually get into Claymore on his own…?
Allison typed furiously into the open email window.
Had this been Colin’s plan all along? Lull her into complacency? Build her trust by admitting his (probably false) failures? Convince her to do the same? Trick her into falling for him all over again so that he could steal her (clearly superior) presentation and win the mentorship? He was Rumpelstiltskin meets Mr. Hydemeets the Artful Dodger. Plus, a little bit of Marlowe’s Faustus and Milton’s Satan tossed in for good measure. A trickster. A demon. A cheat.
And like a fool, she’d trusted him. She should have known better.
This time, though, he wouldn’t win. She’d renew her focus. Dig in deeper. Slaughter him intellectually until he was nothing but a bloody pulp.
It was what she should have been doing all along.
“This is low, even by his standards.” Sophie was pacing Allison’s room, a piece of red licorice hanging from her mouth. Monty pranced in her wake, nipping at her heels. The clothes Allison was going to model for Sophie’s interview were draped over the bed, except for the sailor dress, which Allison had thrown on for the extra confidence boost (it hugged all her best curves perfectly because Sophie was a fashion genius). “You’re going to nail him to the floor, right?”
Allison smoothed down the dress’s collar, the way its edges accentuated her cleavage feeling like its own kind of revenge. She’d beat Colinandlook good doing it. Double whammy.
