Hecate's Gift (Ari & Soren Book 2)

Chapter 11 - Ari

In the morning, I checked my phone for messages from Professor Taylor, but there was nothing. Maybe I'd read too much into that look, after all. By the time evening rolled around, I'd almost forgotten all about it.

Taylor had told me the party was casual, so I dressed in dark jeans with a belt and a cream-colored shirt that Soren picked out. He stood behind me as I checked myself in the mirror, eyes roaming appreciatively over my reflection. My healing sessions had almost erased the bite marks on my neck so that they looked like nothing more than old scars. He leaned in and kissed them, making me shiver. He'd still refused to feed the night before, and I knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

"If you wait up for me, I'll bring you dinner," I teased, grinning at him in the mirror.

He smiled against my skin, and his eyes went dark. "I look forward to it."

~

Professor Taylor's house was on the other side of town, on a long narrow street of beachfront properties, of which his was by far the largest. The house was a long, low, single-story affair with a split-level roof. The side facing the ocean was almost all windows, and a wide wrap-around deck extended over the edge of the sandy beach on raised stilts. The water was less than a hundred yards away, and the beach stretched for a mile to either side.

I walked up to the tall, frosted glass doors and rang the bell. A moment later, a harried-looking Mrs. Taylor welcomed me and ushered me inside.

It seemed like most of the guests were already here. I noticed that, like too much of academia, they were almost exclusively old, white, and male. Professor Liu and I were the exceptions. She was young for a professor, only a few years older than me, but a brilliant historian. I made my way towards her and politely interrupted the lecture she was receiving from a colleague in a different field, who seemed to be explaining her own work to her.

He wandered off to find another victim, and she shot me a grateful look.

"Thanks for that. He's on my review board, so I have to be nice," she said.

We chatted for a while, and then Professor Taylor appeared at my side, holding glasses of champagne.

"Ari!" He exclaimed. "I'm glad you came. Here, have a glass." He held one out to me, and I took it. "Come meet Dr. Stanton. I'll introduce you."

He led me over to where Chadwell Stanton was holding court, surrounded by a group of admirers. He was an older man, probably in his early eighties. His small, rheumy eyes and gnarled hands told of a long life; but age had not affected his mind, judging by his fast, clear speech and cutting wit.

Taylor introduced me, and Stanton showed a warm and gracious interest in my work. It was easy to listen to him. He had a knack for telling stories and for making his audience feel like they were almost participants in his exploits and adventures. I sat enthralled and hardly noticed how many times Taylor refilled my glass with champagne. After two hours the party began to wind down. I stood to make my exit and realized I was slightly drunk--at least too much to drive myself home.

I got out my phone to call Soren when Taylor caught my arm.

"Ari, I'd like to have a word with you, before you go," he said.

"Sure, professor. What about?"

"Not here. Let's go outside."

I followed him through the sliding glass doors to the porch, and he led me around the corner away from the windows.

He went to the railing and I leaned against the wall for support, feeling slightly unsteady.

"Who was that man you were with last night?" He asked. The breeze caught and played with his salt-and-pepper hair. 

I wasn't going to lie, even if it meant I lost his respect. "He's my boyfriend. His name's Soren."

"How long you been with him?"

"A few months now."

He pushed himself away from the railing and came towards me, stopping less than an arm's length away and leaning his hands against the wall to either side of me. "You let him fuck that pretty mouth of yours?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice.

His words shocked me, and I couldn't find my voice to reply. He'd never spoken that like before, and the crudeness and impropriety of the question seemed out of character.

"C'mon now, don't look so surprised," he chided, dark brows raised. "I didn't imagine you were innocent, the way you're always makin' eyes and smilin' at me."

"M-m-making eyes!?" I stammered. "Professor, I think there's been some mistake." I tried to move away from him, but he didn't lower his arms.

"I don't think so. You come to my lectures even though they're for undergrads, and you're not enrolled. You sit there and watch me with those big eyes, until I want to take you then and there, in front of everyone." He leaned closer, and his champagne scented breath breezed over my face.

My heart was hammering in my chest and my mouth had gone dry. His words made no sense. They were frightening and foreign, and I wanted to get away from him. He wasn't the kind, friendly Professor Taylor I thought I knew. He was a stranger, and he was scaring me.

Forcefully, I pushed him away, making him take a step back. "No. You're mistaken," I said. My hands shook, but at least my voice was steady. "I'm... Do you know what asexuality is, professor? I'm asexual. I don't see you that way. I'm sorry if it seemed otherwise. I'm... I'm not interested."

I turned to walk away, but he caught my wrist and spun me around so I faced the wall. He trapped me against it, pressing himself to my back so I couldn't move. "So what? You're just a little tease, then, is that it? I don't think so. I think you want it."

His hands moved around my waist and started to undo my belt.

"Professor--stop! Please, I'm saying no!"

My words had no effect, but the sound of the sliding door rasping in its traces as it opened did. He froze.

"Em? Are you out here?" His wife's voice floated towards us. "Emery?"

He released me and backed away rapidly as her footsteps neared the corner.

I took my opportunity and fled, somehow managing not to trip as I raced down the steps to the beach and took off across the sand. Footsteps at my back made me look behind, and I was horrified to see he had followed me.

I had a good lead, but I was half drunk and no great athlete. Taylor ran five miles a day, he'd told me once. There was no way I'd outrun him.

Fear put extra speed in my steps as I sprinted over the sand. If I could only get somewhere with people, I'd be safe, but the beach was deserted. When he caught me I would fight, but I didn't kid myself I could win.

I wondered if he would kill me, once he was finished; or if he would just take what he wanted and leave, confident I'd be too ashamed to speak out against him.

A strange noise like a harsh gasp sounded behind me, and I imagined I could almost feel his fingers grasping at the back of my shirt.

My foot caught on something and I tripped, sprawling into the sand. 

I rolled over, ready to fight, but the beach was empty. Taylor wasn't there.

He must have come to his senses and turned back, I thought. My relief made me weak, and I sat for a minute catching my breath and trying to control the shaking in my limbs. Finally, I got to my feet and made my way towards the road.

I called Soren. Driving the speed limit, our house was thirty minutes away. He got there in fifteen.

On the way home I told him what Taylor had done, and his jaw went rigid. When he spoke, though, he sounded surprisingly calm.

"What will you do? You can't let him get away with this. If he tried it with you, chances are he's done it before, and he'll do it again."

"I know." I didn't want to draw attention to myself, and it would be humiliating to face the scrutiny--especially if they didn't take me seriously--but I had no choice. "I'll report him tomorrow," I said.

Soren nodded. He reached over and took my hand, and we drove the rest of the way home in silence.