Garcia?”
I turn to look at him.
“Sweet dreams. One more time.” And he winks.
Chapter 2
“You have anyone special to bring to the club for the masquerade ball next weekend?” Alain tosses back a whiskey and sets the heavy crystal glass onto the burnished counter.
We’re upstairs at Club Toxic, before the night gets insane with the supernatural and the humans who only look divine.
“No.” But my mind immediately goes to my sassy, sleepy student—Artemis Garcia, and her perfectly round ass and her pouty lips. Those long black curls. The way she talked to me just a few short hours ago after my class. “No one appropriate, anyway.”
He laughs. “What’s wrong with her?”
I roll my eyes. “She’s my student. I can’t fuck the kids.”
She’s not a kid, though. She’s a woman—lush, gorgeous and, from what I saw in her thoughts, into exactly the kind of kink that’s on display downstairs at Club Toxic.
“Remind me again why you decided to become an adjunct professor?” Alain raises a brow. “That’s a lot of exposure for a vamp who needs to fly under the radar.” He zooms his hand over the bar like a plane.
“I was bored. I wanted a challenge.” I shrug. “Last time I was in college was Harvard, just after it was founded.”
The truth is more complex. I’m lonely for companionship; homesick for the camaraderie that comes with existing in a bubble of like-minded intellectuals. Not that I’ve found it in the evening classes just yet.
“I bet Lucius gave you the side-eye about it.” Alain gestures to the bartender, who nods and slides over another glass of whiskey.
“He approved it. As long as I keep everything under control.”
“Does she like you?” He quirks a brow.
“She’s really talented.” I think about the mural she painted. “More than anyone I’ve seen in a long time.” Decades.
“Not what I asked.” He smirks.
“Yeah, she’s into me.” I can’t read minds, but like most vampires, I can get into human memories at times. And today, while the very enticing Ms. Garcia was drooling on her desk, I just took a quick peek inside hers and saw some epic memories of her fantasies… all about me.
It made me want to grab her, bring her here to the club, and spank her tight little ass right here, and fuck her in front of everyone.
“I may have flirted and said some inappropriate stuff to her today.” I laugh. “But before I did it, I got the sense that she’d be okay with it. But that’s all.”
He raises his eyebrows. “You don’t want to own her for a night?”
“Hell, yes. But I don’t want to have to wipe her. She’s got magic in her fingers. The art she creates?” I shake my head. “Don’t want to mess that up.”
I saw a brochure in her bag for an art show this weekend at the Etherton Gallery in downtown Tucson, which I assume she plans to attend. The carnal part of me wants to go there, too. See what happens.
“Don’t get too attached,” he warns. “It’s just harder when you have to leave them behind.” Easy for him to talk: he’s got his mate already and doesn’t need worry about hookups.
“I’m not planning to touch her.”
But as I make my denials, I have the irresistible urge to go find the naughty Ms. Garcia (because I’m one hundred percent sure she’s a very, very bad girl who definitely needs a spanking) and kidnap her, taking her to the dungeon.
I have a feeling she’d like it just as much as I would.
“Abuelita? I’m home.” I shut the door behind me and kick off my sneakers. “It smells great in here.” The aroma of birria fills the house.
She doesn’t reply, but I hear a rustling from the living room. I put down my bag and peek in—and it’s my stepbrother, Eddie. He’s lounging on the couch, shoes up on a pillow, eating pizza and staring intently at his phone.
“Temi, why you so late?” He barely looks up at me, but when he does, he scowls. “I had to freaking go to the Walgreens and get her scripts.”
I frown back. “So? I was at class, you know that.”
“Well, I had to pay for one of them, Temi. She didn’t give me enough cash. And it ain’t cheap.”
“Guess who usually helps pay for them?” I point to myself. “Where is she?”
He shrugs. “Sleeping. I don’t know why she bothers to cook so much when she’s just going to complain about her arthritis.”
“Who paid for the pizza?” I narrow my