Page 26 of Brambles and Bellflowers
“I don’t think she’d kill me…” I added hesitantly.
“She’s not going to kill you. She’s not an idiot,” he said, exasperated. “But she can’t protect you in her current condition.”
That wasn’t nice. “I don’t think she’d like you saying that about her.”
“I’m not saying it to be unkind.” Dr. Stephens frowned, cocking his head. His glasses briefly reflected the light from the lamp on his desk. “I’m only telling the truth. You’ll be putting both of you at risk if you work with her.”
“But it-it was her idea…” Why was my chest so tight and my thoughts dizzy? In the past, I might have backed down. After all, what was the point of arguing now? This wouldn’t happen until next semester anyway, and conflict hurt my stomach.
But Dr. Stephens knew nothing about me. He had no right to tell me how to live my life.
“Psychology—for the most part—is a stationary field.” Dr. Stephens’s voice was smooth. “It’s a proper area of study for a young woman, and research-based work is well-respected in our community. You can watch Mr. Damen safely while he does his work.”
Damen. My weakness.
Dr. Stephens played dirty.
Yet, who was he to tell me what to do? It almost seemed that only Ms. Protean and the boys cared about what I wanted.
I glanced at the coffee pot, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “I don’t want to major in psychology.”
Besides, Dr. Stephens was wrong. There was no way I’d be happy sitting on the sidelines while Damen waltzed off into danger.
No, I had to be in the field at all costs. It was my duty to be aninvaluableasset, so established in my brilliance and skill that Damen would have no choice but to run all his disastrous plans by me first.
So that I could fix them before all manner of chaos broke loose.
I couldn’t do any of that by hiding in a library.
“You only want me close so you can keep an eye on me,” I told him, trying to steady my shaky hands. “I want to study with Ms. Protean.”
Dr. Stephens sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You sound just like her.”
I’d sucked in a breath, prepared to argue. But his statement threw me off. “Who?”
He didn’t answer, only studied me with his heavy gaze while he rested his chin on his linked hands. “You’re not going to listen to me, are you?” he asked after a long moment.
Well, the last time he’d told me to do something, I ended up covered in burdocks, was forced to pepper spray Titus, and was stalked by—at that time—strangers.
So,no.
“I don’t think I have to listen to you. Don’t I outrank you?” I asked. Surely, as my magical guardian, Elder, and whatever else he was, he had to answer me honestly.
I glanced at him and bit my lip. “I thought that’s how it worked.”
His mouth curled slightly, amusement flickering in his expression. But the movement was masked so quickly I was sure I’d imagined it.
“Indeed,” he drawled. His tone didn’t give away his thoughts, yet the tension seemed to drop from the air.
A weight also lifted from my chest, and the dim lighting in the room seemed to grow brighter.
This was a familiar feeling, like when Bryce and Brayden had first met me.
“Were you doing something?” I asked.
“Not much,” Dr. Stephens said, pointing to the chair across from him. “If you’re not going to top off your drink, then please sit down. Your lurking is extremely annoying.”
My breath caught as the fight faded from me, and I obediently slipped into the chair, crossing my ankles and tucking my feet behind the leg. His attention returned to the papers on his desk, and I was left to sip at my almost-cold coffee and sit in silence.
