Page 211 of Castings & Curses

“Follow me.” He stepped past the tree line, and it took me a moment to follow, but I did. Once I got past the initial trees, I realized I could not see him anymore. “Follow me.”

His voice was everywhere, and I tried to figure out which way he was leading me. I moved for a few steps one way then another as the words kept coming back to me.

“Professor?” I called back after attempting to hide my frustration. “Where are you?”

“Follow me.” Was all that came back.

I stopped. Was this a test? A lesson? Fine. He wanted to see what he was dealing with; I could follow him. He just might not like it when I get there.

CHAPTER4

My tracking skillswere no joke and Professor Roark was oddly prepared for me to arrive in time for what looked like afternoon tea.

“You made it just in time for tea.” He indicated the table before me.

I was so worked up from tracking him, I wasn’t sure how I was going to take a seat and have lunch like a normal paranormal being. I wanted to keep moving forward, touch him, taste him, devour his essence, his magic, his flesh.

I startled myself with that thought and it was enough to pull me from the hunt to the more rational part of my brain. “Why did you do that to me?”

“You wanted a lesson in motivation. I gave you one.” He rolled his shoulder. “Sit. Sugar?”

“What?” I took a seat across from him at this odd table in the middle of the forest. It was reminiscent of another tea party, but the only ones here were us and I did not fall down a rabbit hole to get here. Or did I? It sure felt like I went through something.

“Sugar? One lump or two?” he asked.

My mouth was feeling dry, everything tasted different, strange. Bitter. “Two.”

“I’ve been doing my homework too, you know.” He lifted his cup to his lips and took a sip of the tea.

I picked up my cup and looked at it. Tea leaves were swirling, making shapes, combining, moving apart. “I think my leaves are trying to tell me something.”

I took a sip and it was so good, I couldn’t just sip once. I drank more. All of it. When I put my cup on the table, he summoned it to him and then looked inside. He smiled and then began swirling the cup. Was he about to read my leaves? “I didn’t ask any questions or put any intentions toward it. What do you expect to find there?”

“You’ve asked plenty of questions and have lots of intentions. They practically form words over your head like a comic book bubble.” He flipped the cup over and tapped the bottom once. That was a new move. Then he turned the saucer three times and the cup flipped upright on its own once he stopped.

“How do I know, like that cup doing its own flip, that when you tapped the bottom, you didn’t just set up whatever answer you want me to have?” I crossed my arms, focused my breath on all the things around us though I wasn’t as insatiable now. I felt very calm, in control, and his scent wasn’t nearly as potent. I’d dare say it was as level as anything else around me.

He studied the leaves longer than I thought necessary. “Do you want me to read them?”

He glared up at me and said, “No.”

“Well, what do they say?” I asked.

“That you lack patience. That you’re inexperienced. That you are borderline out of control recently.” He gave me a pointed look.

I cleared my throat, crossed my arms, and said, “Go on.”

“These leaves tell me nothing I don’t already know. Nothing you don’t already know.” He placed the cup down on the table and took another sip of his tea as the cup magically made it’s way back to my side of the table and a new cup was poured without either of us touching the pot. “The tea will help. It’s the only thing I know for sure.”

“Help what?” I asked as I put two lumps of sugar in and stirred.

“Help you control the urge to kill me.” He placed his cup on the table. “Though I don’t know for how long.”

I was so relaxed. So chill that I maybe shouldn’t have said anything else. But I did. “I don’t want to kill you.”

“No?” he asked. “What do you want then?”

“I want to devour you. I want to be so close that I could crawl inside your skin and wear it like a coat of armor.” I was such a poet in this moment. “Taste more than just this leftover print on the air.” I inhaled and pulled that into my lungs, felt them process, felt a little less tired. “I feel…all tingly and warm and wanting when you’re nearby. I’ve fought it from the moment I scented you in the student assembly and they introduced you as the new professor. It was my freshman year. I avoided your courses like my life depended on it, because I thought it did.”

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