Not as Bones, but as Rand.
It’s time for her to find out that she has a stalker. I’m not above terrorizing her to drive her into my arms.
As her professor, I’ll be a trusted authority figure. When she realizes she’s being stalked, she’ll need comfort. Reassurance.
A promise of protection.
I silence my notifications and harden my resolve. If I have to make Karolina suffer in order to finally have her, then that’s what I’ll do.
Soon, I’ll open my arms, and she’ll come running to me. She’ll need me more than her next breath. She’ll look to me for safety, and I’ll prove to her that I’ll never allow anyone to harm her.
All these years, she’s never known how I’ve eliminated all threats to her safety and happiness.
She should find out exactly how devoted I am.
12
KAROLINA
Even though I had the weekend to rest after Bones hung up on me, I’m too tired when I arrive at Professor Hirst’s lecture the following Monday.
Last night, I had an unpleasantly vivid dream about being chased through the woods by Bones. It’d blended with memories of the night I ran from Brandon and Carter.
When I finally broke free from the nightmare around three AM, I’d been too scared to go back to sleep. Instead, I pulled out my books and tried to prepare for class.
My fear of the connection Bones wants is so much more acute than worry over his barely leashed aggression when I rejected him. Even with his huge body flexing above me after the hunt, I knew he wouldn’t truly hurt me.
I allowed our mutual fantasy to become real, and he mistook roleplay for romantic interest.
I rub my eyes, and my sandpaper lids sting. I’m jittery from three cups of coffee on an empty stomach—I felt too sick to eat breakfast.
That’ll have to be enough to keep me awake through class when all I want to do is huddle in my bed and sleep until my brain is less scrambled by thoughts of my masked man.
As much as I don’t want to make my heart vulnerable to Bones, I do care about him. I know I hurt him deeply.
Just because I never intended to do that doesn’t mean he’s okay.
He accused me of treating him like a sex toy.
I wince at the thought. I’m afraid it’s too close to the truth.
“Miss Williams?” Professor Hirst prompts.
My stomach drops. I have no idea why he’s calling on me. What was he saying while I was lost in my tangled thoughts?
We’re supposed to be studying Viking poetry today. I’ve read three books on the subject, but I don’t know the answer to his question.
He stares at me for several seconds that seem to stretch into long, tense minutes, and I suppress the urge to squirm in my seat.
“Make sure you’re prepared next time,” he finally says, then turns his attention to Amala’s raised hand.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment and indignation.
If I start rattling off the titles I’ve read over the last few weeks, I’ll seem desperate. There’s no way for me to defend myself without sounding petulant and attention seeking.
I swallow my shame and lift my chin.
There’s plenty of time for me to prove myself in the coming weeks without begging for his approval.