Page 4 of Ghost
It was a disgusting feeling.
I fought back my instinctual shiver of horror. I wanted to hiss at him in retaliation. But now that he was in front of me, I strangely found myself unable to make a sound. In fact, the best I could do at the moment was chew on the inside of my lip and stare at the ground in panic.
Imagination was one thing. But actual confrontation wasn’t my strong suit. Mortal enemy or no.
And being unprepared was killing me. Why hadn’t I just used Google? Now I was in this situation with no idea what to expect. Stupid Damen. He had been no help to me at all.
I was so unprepared for this. For as far as I knew, Bryce would start smacking my wrists with a ruler or something.
I eyed the thick ruler lying along the top of my professor’s desk. Why would a Biology professor need a ruler anyway? Surely it was for punishment. It was very sturdy looking, and Bryce looked like a strong dude. Any wrist-smacking was sure to be painful.
My life sucked.
“Miss Brosnan?” Bryce leaned forward, blocking my view of the offending object. It didn’t help, because now an even more offending object was in my sight—his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with sincere concern.
For a moment, I was surprised at this unexpected show of humanity, and I could only blink at him in response. Because the devil wasn’t known for being a kind person. But then I shook my head, snapping myself out of my musings. It was a known fact Satan himself could put on a good show.
“You seemed to be both mentally and physically exhausted during class today. As if something is weighing you down. You haven’t even glared at me as much as usual. I was feeling lonely.” He frowned, tilting his head. “Is something the matter?”
This was throwing me off. There was no way he was a decent person.
“I’ve glared at you plenty!” I pointed at him in righteous fury, narrowing my eyes at him. Somehow, talking to him like this made all traces of my anxiety vanish. The only thing on my mind was not falling into one of his spells. “What are you plotting to do to me?”
Bryce’s well-shaped eyebrow rose as he eyed my pointed finger with amusement, the flicker of concern now gone from his expression. But then as his eyes followed the line of my wrist, toward the visible part of my arm, his amusement vanished and a frown touched his lips.
I froze, realizing my mistake. The sleeves of my sweater were loose around my wrists and arms—hence why it wasn’t the best attire for a laboratory day. I had forgotten to keep that in mind when dressing, only being concerned about comfort rather than practicality.
And from this position, Bryce now had a pretty clear view of my lower arms.
He shifted, and panic raced through me almost immediately. I went to jerk my arm back, a thousand excuses flashing through my mind. But I wasn’t quick enough.
I hadn’t even moved an inch before my wrist was captured in his firm grip.
He was on his feet, leaning over the desk, gazing down at my arm with a peculiar expression on his face.
And there was something else outside of fear that rushed through me at the feeling of his skin on mine. I couldn’t explain it, and it was hard to focus. Torn between the helplessness of last night, and the terror I had felt when my best friend attacked me. But one thing stood out to me—what made Bryce think he had the right to be so pushy and grabby? He didn’t even know me.
In any case, my courage had fled, and the fury that had filled me evaporated. I wanted nothing more than to hide under a rock.
“What’s this?” he asked, taking the liberty to pull up the sleeve of my sweater to my elbow. His hold was solid, but gentle. However, no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t pull my arm away.
He didn’t even seem to notice my attempts. Instead, he was still frowning at my arm. “These are handprints! Is this the reason you look like you’ve been through hell?”
He had to stop touching me. “L-Let go!”
Bryce’s hazel eyes snapped from my arm to my face, alarmed. And what he saw there caused his frown to deepen. His gaze remained locked on even as he released my wrist without further argument. “What happened? You can talk to me, I’m a mandated reporter. But not only that, I can get you the help that you need. We have connections. I can keep you safe.”
Ice shot through my veins.
At one point, I would have loved to have heard those words. I had waited so long for someone to notice me. But everything was under control now. And it was a completely different situation. This was a paranormal problem. Damen was helping me.
Besides, I was an adult now. I didn’t need amandated reporter.
“I’m not a child,” I blurted the first thing that came to mind—the most obvious way to get him to leave me alone. Besides, I couldn’t tell him what hadreallyhappened. I doubted he understood anything about the paranormal. And I refused to put my new friends under scrutiny.
Bryce’s smooth demeanor slipped, and something in his expression changed. Authority seemed to permeate through the air around him. But his expression remained composed. “That doesn’t apply only to children. Now tell me what happened.”
“No,” I protested, my voice shaky.
