Shifting the Night Away (31 page)

Chapter Eighteen

See Me

The next morning, I tried to console myself with the thought that Riker couldn’t be looking forward to seeing me in class either. Instead of calming me, though, that thought just made me run every possible scenario through my head.

I wished I could talk to Nora, but she’d texted me the night before to let me know she wasn’t coming back to the dorm until this afternoon. She left out any details to keep from rubbing it in my face, but I knew this meant that just as
my
romantic life was falling apart, hers was coming together. Even though I wanted desperately to talk to her more, I told her I was fine and that she should enjoy herself; the last thing I wanted to be was a wet blanket over my friend’s love life.

It must’ve taken me twice the normal time to walk across campus to the art building. Every single fiber of my being wanted to turn around and go back home, but I soldiered on, determined to face my fears. My legs didn’t seem to get the message of determination, though, because class was almost full by the time I got there.

Peeking over, I was relieved when I didn’t see Riker or his belongings in the front of class; as long as I went straight to my easel and kept it in front of me, I could avoid looking at him as much as possible.

“I saved you a seat,” Kayla called when she saw me, waving me over to where we usually sat. “Vultures circled around it, but I didn’t let them take it. Wouldn’t want you stuck in the back without a good view of today’s model.”

I smiled at her, trying to make it seem genuine even though I wasn’t feeling like smiling. “Thanks, Kayla. I wonder who we’ll get today.”

“Who knows? I’m just disappointed it won’t be hot TA. He’s not even showing up to class today.”

My heart skipped a beat at that news. “Really?” I tried to seem disinterested, fiddling with my portfolio instead of staring at her intently.

“Apparently he had some family issues.” She leaned in close to me. “Although that part, I’m not supposed to know. I was here early and I heard the professor talking to him on the phone.”

I knew what ‘family issues’ had to be code for: his fake brother was in town, and they were up to something.
Whatever he’s up to doesn’t matter. At least I won’t see him today.

Still, it was odd to realize I was disappointed. After all the tension and expectation, I’d put on a brave face that morning for nothing; it would be days before I had to face Riker again.

***

As part of our first assignment, every student in the class tacked their drawing of Riker up on the wall and we all took turns critiquing them.

“Remember,” professor Hickory said, “we’re not here to tear each other down. Try to give
constructive
criticism, and if you just don’t like a piece, refrain from saying anything at all.”

Even though I was nervous about my turn, a quick study of all the other drawings on the wall confirmed that my critique would hardly be the worst of them. I tried not to gloat—everyone was taking this class for the first time—but it looked like some of the students hadn’t put any work into theirs at all. Reminding myself that I had an unfair advantage since I assessed the model outside of class, I resolved not to say anything bad about any of the other pieces.

Kayla, to her credit, had also done a pretty good job, though like most of the students, she’d put very little detail work into rendering Riker’s tattoos. Most of the panther tattoos looked more like dogs, and a few of them were just blobs at his hip. One of the students hadn’t even tried to draw the tattoos at all. Thankfully for me, someone else in the class brought that up, so I didn’t have to point it out.

“Alright, this piece is next.” The professor motioned towards my dark, high contrast drawing of Riker. “Who does this belong to?”

Shyly, I raised my hand. “It’s mine.”

“Very well. Let’s start at the end of the row with critiques. What do you think of Mara’s drawing?”

Bit by bit, the compliments started to flow.

“I love how dark you made it.”

“The muscles in his back are very well defined.” I’d drawn him twisting over to one side, his back clenched.

“The contrast is great, although I wish I could see his face,” one of the students said—my first piece of criticism. I blushed, wondering if I’d unintentionally drawn his face in shadow because I couldn’t stand the thought of looking at him.

“I like that,” Kayla said, coming to my defense. “It makes him look mysterious.”

The critique went on, without anything new or different really being said. At the end, the professor was supposed to say something, but she just stared at my drawing.

“Professor Hickory?”

Whipping her head around, she seemed to remember me for the first time. “Ah, yes. Mara. I want you to talk to me after class.”

Heart pounding, I nervously wondered what she wanted to talk about.
Does she somehow know I slept with Riker? Did she find out we had sex on her desk?
The thought was mortifying, and it occupied me for the rest of class. I watched everyone walk out of the classroom, wishing I could follow.

Instead, I stepped forward to where she sat at her desk. “You wanted to speak to me?”

She had all of our drawings stacked up on her desk, thin sheets of paper between them to keep the graphite from smudging. My drawing was on top, and she was staring at it intently.

“Truly, this piece far exceeds what I was expecting from a first assignment.”

Sighing in relief, I let go of my anxiety that she somehow knew about me and Riker. “Thank you, professor.”

“This is not typical from a beginning student at the start of the year, but with your permission I’d like to put it up on the wall.”

Stunned, I could only stand there stupidly. “My drawing? Up on the wall?”

“Yes, Mara.” She smiled, and I had to smile right along with her. “Up on the wall.”

Of course, I said yes. How could I not?

***

I stared at the drawing after class, wondering if it was some sick twist of fate that Riker’s figure would stare at me for the rest of the semester. Was it fate or just coincidence that brought us together?

Whatever brought us together, I wondered if we could truly be done with each other so quickly.

Chapter Nineteen

Danger

I slept fitfully that night, not because of tears but because of regrets that plagued me. Even though it was Riker’s lies that came between us, part of me wondered if there was something I missed that could’ve kept us together. I played every interaction we had over and over in my mind, looking for the moment when it all went wrong.

When exhaustion took over and I was about to fall asleep, a noise woke me again. I froze in my bed, certain that I heard the distinct sound of someone at my window.
It must just be my imagination.
After all, I was sleep-deprived. No one could possibly be tapping on my window from the second floor.

But the sound came again, and it wasn’t tapping this time. With precision slowness, someone opened up my window. Heart beating fast, I prepared to jump out of bed and run away, but before I could even throw the covers back, a strange feeling overcame me. My eyelids drooped, my limbs became heavy, and I felt unconsciousness envelop me.

What was I going to do?
I couldn’t remember. Just before I passed out, I felt strong arms pick me up and carry me away.

***

“Not like that, dipshit, you’ll hurt her neck.”

Voices drifted through my mind as I rode the clouded place between sleeping and waking. Someone was carrying me, and the world was dark. I felt a light breeze against my face. I tried to struggle, but my body was weighed down by sleep, even though a part of me screamed inside.

“I think she’s awake.” A voice, male and quiet.

“You said that spell would last at least an hour, Cody.” I could tell this one was holding me, because I felt his voice vibrate through his chest and into my ear.

“Witches, man. You can’t trust them.”

I struggled to see where I was, who was holding me, but it was so dark. There were no lights, no moon shining through the clouds, nothing at all. My captors seemed to glide on gifted feet over dark ground.

“If she is awake, what should we tell her? We didn’t decide—”

“Hush. Let’s not talk about this now. Make her go to sleep the old-fashioned way.”

The old-fashioned way?
I had no clue what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. I felt pressure at my neck, and suddenly my breathing became shallow, difficult. I tried to keep my eyes open but they kept fluttering closed. Moments later, I was swimming in the deep of my unconscious again.

***

Riker knew it was her drawing just by looking at it. He spent a long moment standing in the hallway where it hung, soaking in the detail of her work.

He wished he could’ve been in class to see her face when she presented it, but when she told him to stay away, he took her at face value.
Mate,
his panther growled, but he pushed it back.

She left us, buddy. And she’s not coming back.

A breeze floated down the hallway to him, carrying with it a very familiar scent. Puzzled, Riker looked for the source of Mara’s smell, but he didn’t see her here.

Must be my imagination playing tricks on me.

But seconds later, he heard her name. “Mara?”

A young blonde woman was frantically pacing down the hallway, looking through every open door. “Mara, where the hell are you,” she muttered, the words audible to his panther hearing.

Sighing, Riker stepped towards her and caught her eyes. “Mara isn’t here. Her life drawing class is on Mondays and Wednesdays, not Tuesdays.”

“Who are you—” Sudden understanding passed over her face. “The guy. Riker.”

So my reputation precedes me.
He couldn’t say it was the first time. “That’s me. But if you’re looking for Mara, she isn’t here.”

The girl sagged with worry. “Damnit. She wasn’t at home, either. And she hasn’t answered my texts all morning. I didn’t want to worry, but her window is open…” She looked at him with narrow eyes. “You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?”

Heart beating fast, Riker took a deep breath of her scent. She smelled of flowery soaps and shampoos, and of her roommate’s scent. More than that, deeper, was the smell of loam and moss, of dirt and sea salt.

He’d recognize the smell anywhere: the shore of the Cave of Sorrows, a strong and supernatural smell that stuck to the skin of anyone who spent time there. Layered with it was the distinctive scent of a few werepanther shifters he knew.

They’d been in her room—the room she shared with Mara. They’d done this to his girl.

“I didn’t have anything to do with this,” he told the girl truthfully, “but I may know who did. Can you take me to her room?”

“Of course.” She twirled away on one foot, then turned back to him. “I’m Nora, by the way. And I already know who you are. I know everything about you.”

She didn’t know half as much as she thought she did. “Not all of it bad, I hope.”

Nora didn’t answer him; they both had a mission.

***

When I woke, there was sunlight streaming through the windows.

For a moment I thought I was back in my bed, the entirety of last night a bad dream conjured up by poor sleep and heartbreak. But then I registered the rough feeling of rope around my wrists and the smell of food cooking. Opening my eyes, I saw curtains blowing in the wind and a window that opened up onto the greenest of forests. The trees grew tall and close together, their branches intertwined in the sky.

“You
would
wake up on my shift.”

My muscles ached as I turned to see the man who sat beside me on a chair. The couch they’d laid me on was plush, the fabric leather. I noticed that my captor was tall, even sitting down, with well-muscled arms and sandy blonde hair.

“Where am I?”

Shifting in his seat, my captor shook his head. “Tsk, tsk. No details. You’ll be better off that way.”

Squirming, I tried to get my hands out of the rope, but it was tight around my wrists. “What are you going to do to me?”