Page 10 of Lessons with the Mothman

"Victoria? A word."

Shit, Phillip. It's the first day.

Lyle stalled at my side, catching my eye, and I nodded him toward the door. "Wait for me?" I asked, loud enough for it to drift to the desk at the front of the classroom.

Lyle shrugged, but he checked on me once more before sliding out of the open doors with the rest of our seminar. I moved slowly through the scattered desks, down the shallowtiers of the amphitheater style classroom. It was too big a space for a class of seventeen, but I'd taken a spot as far from the front as I could reasonably excuse.

I stopped my approach at the last step, well out of reach from Professor Phillip Stanton, not that I thought I was really in any danger of him reaching out.

Lyle had left the classroom doors open. He was the only person who knew about the affair I'd had with our seminar professor in our first year. He hadn't even mentioned knowing about it until last spring, after we'd tried hooking up. Hiding sexual tension from an incubus was useless, apparently. Trying to pretend that you're about to have an orgasm was also useless.

"I can't really come unless you can, Vic. Want to order food and watchSecretary?"

Lyle was a good friend.

Phillip leaned back against his broad cherry wood desk and crossed his ankles, and contrasting, illogical tendrils of arousal and disgust flitted through me. "It's good to have you back in class again, Vic."

"Thank you, Professor Stanton."

"Even Eddie calls me Phillip."

Not because he respects you, I thought, but I tipped my head, waiting for him to get to his real point.

"I saw the update on your study. A volunteer assistant in… What exactly is thisEliasoffering you?"

Phillip was less than a decade older than me and his sandy hair had a little more gray in it now than it did three years ago, but it didn't lessen his appeal physically. Truth be told, I was stillattractedto this man, visually speaking. He was tall, slim, and conventionally handsome. He also dressed the part of a professor, which I now suspected was an intentional effort. His tweed patch elbows were every bit the costume as the pleated skirts I'd worn to his class had been at the time.

I'd been looking for a fantasy, searching for something to feel explosive—or maybe just something to cause my life to implode. As much as he'd told me he wasn't attracted to students, that it wasmyintelligence that ensnared him and my maturity that made his desire for me "helpless," I figured it was safe to say he was enjoying the stereotype as much, if not more, than I had.

"He's arranged four interviews already," I said.One of which has the potential to offer a demonstration, I reminded myself, a warm thrill growing in my belly that was entirely inappropriate to the spirit of the study, I suspected.

"He finds you subjects," Phillip said. "You weren't able to do that on your own?"

"Some. Not as many. He has the non-human perspective too. I've edited my questions with his help."

"It's risky of you to bring an outside force to influence your study. Its reputation is already fragile enough with the department."

Isn't it your job to protect that?I wanted to ask.

"Elias is very conscious of the boundary. He offers information based on my prompting. The work I present will be my own, Professor."

"I'd like to sit in on some of the interviews."

It hit me harder than such a demand should've, and I fought to hide my flinch. My relationship with this man had dissolved as undramatically as an affair between student and professor might manage. I'd never told Brett about cheating on him, and I'd miraculously managed to avoid another class setting with Phillip Stanton for two and a half years. But the program was too small for that to go on forever. He was the only figure in the department qualified to advise my work as it was now.

"Of course. I'll send you the schedules. Accommodating the subjects will be my first priority, of course," I said. "But I can always record the interviews."

"I'm only trying to prepare you for the department's pushback," he said, not quite succeeding to disguise his smug pleasure at my discomfort. "Friction is good for a study, yeah?"

Bastard, I wanted to scream.

"I appreciate that," I said, nodding. "See you next week, Professor."

"Enjoy your lunch," he said, calling toward the door where Lyle had shifted into sight.

The incubus didn't bother smiling back at our professor, his preternatural beauty managing to emphasize cool dismissal.

"Off campus?" I suggested, almost breathless. Was I running away from the room? I forced my steps to slow, and Lyle matched me easily, looking back over his shoulder with a narrowed gaze.

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