He watched her pick her things, his eyes drifting ever so slightly to the widening of her hips as she bent to pick up the handout she had dropped on a desk earlier. He couldn’t help but be drawn to the sway of her full hips as she strutted out of the hall. He had wanted so badly to stop her or say anything that would, but his faculties were still intact and couldn’t let him do so. Just a second longer and he would have known how those plump lips would feel against his.Would she pull away or would she melt against him, he wondered. He had not intended to close the distance between them but when it happened and he could see the desire coursing through his veins reflected in her eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder what explosion of pleasure awaited him should he choose to think with everything else but his brain.He cursed as he swept a sweaty palm through his hair frustrated at how she had once again clouded his thoughts. What was she doing to him? He had gone decades without so much
Peeking from the side of the desk, she could see a big breasted blonde woman. She walked in like she owned the place, wearing a skirt shorter than Clara’s short shorts. Clara was sure she had seen that face somewhere on campus before but could no remember where exactly that was. She looked too young to be a college lecturer but what if she was?! Shit! Clara ducked deeper into the desk when the lady was a few steps away. She heard shuffling above her, deepening her curiosity. No, it just wasn’t possible. Did Mr Snowe have a girlfriend or worse, wife?! She hadn’t even thought in that direction in all her mindless drooling. But again, she looked too young. Wait, why did that matter now? Most importantly, why was she thinking about that now? If you have a potential lecturer’s wife going through said lecturers files above you while you’re on nothing but short shorts and hoodie, you think about how to survive with an ounce of your dignity intact and not think about your chances with said l
"Aside from him visiting after so many years, what else that made you think your bestie could be the one working with Mars? I mean why not suspect one of the witches? It is their hometown after all," he questioned.Evander was not stupid as to form an alliance with someone whose wife he was entangled with, most especially not someone like Mars who was known for being utterly ruthless when it came to punishing offenders and betrayers alike.“I know what you’re thinking. Evander is not that stupid.” Wait, Evander? As in her Evander?! Clara pressed her ears harder against the desk, straining to hear more. If she was caught at this point, she didn’t care, she was too far gone at this point. She couldn’t have heard that right, right? Had to be another Evander, not hers. Hers knew nothing about any supernatural nonsense and most of all would never sign to a unison with someone even these two didn’t trust. Her Evander was sweet, thoughtful and definitely was no side dude to any bimbo!Just
“Breathe, Clara," Lucian said, getting on his knees.He held her hands and her trembling stilled, as her eyes met his. He wanted to look away, at anything but those grey abyss but he couldn’t bring himself to. She stared at him like she wanted to remain there but also wanted to die. They had been so lost in each other that they hadn’t notice her breathing slowing and her shaking stopping. Clara felt much better but didn’t make a move to move away or take her hand back either. She felt comfortable with him and oddly enough, dare she say, safe?Lucian noticed that her hand laxed against his, bringing back an image from few months ago when she had been having a mental breakdown. That had been the first time he had held her hand and the familiar connection repeated itself. Who was she and why did he feel this uncontrollable pull to her? Why her and not someone not already involved with Van? Not someone he’d be risking his job being around, not someone he was starting to feel something he
“In utter despair, relinquish crown, septa and shaul Deputes in my head, with no time to spareThe question, do you believe in the supernatural?” “Why do you insist on reading that to me every day?” Clara chuckled to Evander, her gaze moving from the book in his hands to his beautiful, clear ocean eyes. He was a beautiful man, the most beautiful she had ever seen. He had the most crooked smile and a jaw so sharp it could cut her heart in half. It had been three years since she met Evander at a friend’s beach cookout in San Francisco. She had been on tour and was persuaded, well forced, to make a detour before continuing on her tour. She was promised numerous moments she would never forget, endless fields of nature with the sun to constantly illuminate her pictures and of course, a whirlwind romance. The rest she was willing to believe but the last had her doubts rising from zero to hundred. Isn’t Paris known to be the birthplace of romance itself? If she could not find love in Paris
“You okay, Ev?” She asked again when she got no response, moving from the bed to the black inflated couch near where he stood. “Er… yeah, yeah,” he stuttered, still staring at his phone like the thing just became a wild animal. “Yeah, babe. Everything is just fine,” he lied through his teeth, already dreading the content the mail held. “It’s just a mail from Thomas, my brother in England. I must have mentioned him before. He was just made a full time professor at Oxford and has been appointed the dean of student affairs at Easton University because of that,” Evander continued as he looked through the letter head again in obvious disbelief. Clara was hundred percent sure he had never mentioned his brother during their time together but let it go because Evander always seemed to get in a mood any time she brought up his family. “Are you sure that’s all? You seem worried,” she pushed, already on her feet, his face in her hands. He let out a heavy breath, “I am.” He surrendered, rubbi
Evander paced the living room, scotch in hand. It had been a while since he’d had a drink. He usually didn’t need it, but he needed it now. A message from Thomas at a time like this could only mean one thing. He opened up his laptop, logged into his mail also accessible on his phone, opened up the message, and once again read through Thomas’s message. Knowing Thomas, the message would be deeply encrypted, that was his specialty. Thomas has always been highly cryptic and clandestine. He definitely never trusted the mundane messaging system. He would have to start decrypting the message as soon as he activated ‘the first shifter' since Thomas’s messages always had a time limit to them before they would self-delete. Who was the first shifter he was supposed to refer to? Evander thought to himself. Knowing Thomas, it was somewhere in the message plain as day. He looked through the curtains separating the master bedroom from the living room. Clara was still fast asleep. Perfect, he th
“Ev, check this out, it’s an actual statue of Apollo!” Clara called to Evander. Since they arrived , Evander seemed to space out more often. Something was bothering him, she only wished he would talk to her, confide in her. He has not but she was going to be patient. He would tell her everything when he wanted to. For now, she settled for taking his mind off whatever it was that was disturbing his mind. “Don’t you think it’s weird that in both the Roman and Greek mythology, his name was not changed?” She looked up to him, his hand a glove over hers. Evander stared at the statue that piqued her interest, a vacant look in his eyes. How was he supposed to locate the person he had been told to contact on getting Thomas’s message? “I’ve always felt like the Greeks had a better representation of the gods than the Romans did,” She rambled on. His mind was on everything else and he could care less about a history lesson at the moment but he tried to be as with enthusiastic as his wande