Page 19 of The Cruelty of Thorns

“Are you from here?” What a stupid question, I immediately berated myself.

He gave an elegant shrug, his gray eyes lighting with amusement. “For now. And you?”

I shook my head. “No. I’ve only been here a few weeks.”

“Ah yes. The college.”

“Are you a student…or a teacher?” I wondered about this last, since every time I’d seen him he was wearing a suit.

“Neither, I’m afraid, though I do enjoy meeting people from there.” He leaned forward, his attention focused on me as if I was the only person in the room, and I squirmed under his scrutiny while my pulse raced and the heat between my thighs deepened. “What do you study there?”

“I’m an English major.”

“Hence the writing,” he nodded.

“I just write for myself. It helps me, like a form of therapy.”

“Therapy for the soul?”

I offered a half smile. “Something like that.”

“You should smile more often. It lights up your face.”

I felt myself blush; who was this guy, and why did he seem so enamored with me?

“I fear I’m keeping you,” he said. “You were getting ready to go.”

As uncomfortable as he made me, I didn’t want the encounter to end. “That’s okay. I was just heading back to my dorm.”

“May I walk with you? A pretty girl alone after dark can be a temptation for the unscrupulous.”

Pretty girl? He’s just being polite, I told myself. “Sure, I guess.”

I tried to hide the way my hand shook as I grabbed my journal and stood. He did likewise and indicated for me to precede him out the door.

Out on the street, he fell into step beside me, letting me set the pace. The evening foot traffic was starting to build, but there was none of the jostling for space I usually encountered. Everyone seemed to flow around him, as though he somehow commanded the sidewalk.

We walked in silence while I racked my brain trying to think of something to say that didn’t make me sound like a child. The effect of his presence charged my nerves and warmed my skin despite the cool evening air, and I found myself wondering what it would feel like to have his arms around me, to taste his lips on mine. That’s crazy, I scolded myself, thankful that the darkness hid the flush of embarrassment.

“You haven’t told me your name,” he said, pulling me out of my head.

“Myra,” I replied, forcing myself to breathe. “And yours?”

“Julianus.”

So now I had a name. “That’s unusual. Is it Latin?”

He nodded. “My family was from Genoa.”

That was the accent I’d heard. “I always wanted to visit Italy,” I said wistfully.

“It’s a beautiful country. Sometimes I miss it terribly.”

“Why did you leave?”

He sighed, his eyes suddenly cloudy. “There was nothing left for me there.”

We approached the gates of the campus and he waved a hand ahead of him, indicating our surroundings. “Did you know the college was the first structure here in town?”

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