Page 116 of Shattered Stars

Stone

I pick up my phone,staring at the screen. My fingers twitch. I consider sending her another message. I consider ordering her to get her ass over here early for her tuition. I toss my phone back on my desk, it skids across the surface, catching in the light of my desk lamp and then disappearing into the shadows. I lean back in my chair, scratching my fingernails through my beard.

I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t stop. It’s like an itch I’m addicted to scratching. One I have no self-control over. I can’t help myself. I think about how fucking beautiful she is. About how she looks when she comes. I think about the other day with her and Azlan, how that was most definitely the best moment of my life.

But I also think about the memories in her head. About her run-in with the chancellor. About Tristan Kennedy – about how that spoiled brat fits into all this. Whether he really does.

I peer at the edge of my desk, bathed in shadow, knowing my phone is there.

I pick up a book. I’ve been attempting to study up, to read up on everything that might be of use. I’ve exhausted every source out there about fated mates. Now I’m trying to deduce if there’s a way I could look at those memories for her without her having to relive them too. I don’t want her going through that pain again but I know there might be answers in there, ones that might help us. The chancellor’s interest in my mate worries me – it worries Azlan too – I’m sure there is more he’s not telling us. More we ought to know.

However, no matter how hard I squint at the words – no matter how much I know this is of importance – for her, for us – I can’t make the damn words focus. They swim across my vision, turning gray and blurring, rearranging to form her face.

Shit!

I’m obsessed. There’s no point denying it. Probably no point resisting it.

At 7.57pm, I slam shut my book and go linger by the classroom door. At 8.03, she knocks.

“You’re late,” I tell her, opening the door and pulling her inside.

“By three minutes!” she says with a huff, flinging her satchel onto the nearest desk. “You need to learn some patience, Professor.”

I quirk my eyebrows. Is she kidding?Ineed to learn some patience?

Although, if I’m honest …

“I can’t help it if I’m impatient to see you,” I say.

“Because you’re so keen to teach me?” she asks, resting her hand on her hip.

“There are so many things I want to teach you, Miss Blackwaters,” I growl, then wipe my hand down my face, struggling to regain my composure. “But tonight we’re going to focus on your own control.”

“Control?” she says with a look of disappointment. I’m guessing she was hoping we’d be going over something big and fancy.

“Yes, control. You’re very powerful, Rhi.” She looks up at me with those big wide eyes. “And some of that magic is dangerous.” She flinches. “We need to be realistic here, Rhi. There’s no point pretending you don’t possess it.”

“Okay,” she says, straightening her body. “How?”

“You’re good at the big, over-the-top, dramatic stuff,” she opens her mouth to argue with me, “can you do the small and delicate? Can you crystalize a snow flake from the water droplets in the air? Can you weave a cobweb? Can you electrify one single nerve?” I say, flicking my fingers and igniting one very seductive nerve right between her legs. She gasps, color rushing into her cheeks.

“I don’t see how that will help me control the …” she swallows, “crimson magic.”

“You have to trust me, Rhi. It will.”

I beckon her towards me and when she stops right in front of me, I turn her around, wrap my arms around her body and cover her hands with mine.

“Let’s start with the snow flakes,” I whisper into her ear. “You need to tune down – tamper down – all that energy inside you. Let it settle, let it still, let everything quieten inside you.”

Her body softens, melts into mine.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Now reach out for a water droplet, tempt it to you – carefully!” I warn when she tugs too hard. “Don’t force it.”

Her breath softens too, her heart rate mellows. I see her beckon a water droplet into the palm of her hand and settle there.

I smile. She’s a natural. So easy to teach. So keen, so eager to learn. In fact, teaching her, sharing all my knowledge with her,is becoming as enjoyable as taking her to bed. Perhaps, maybe, even better.

“Now gently, ever so gently, cool it.”