Page 1 of Serpentine Valentine
“And fate? No one alive has ever escaped it, neither brave man nor coward,
I tell you––it’s born with us the day we are born.”
––Homer,The Iliad
Alexandra “Lex” Gorgon
The wind whistledthrough the winding pathways of Acheron University’s campus, whipping the discarded orange and brown leaves over the cobblestones and against old brick and stone buildings. My loafers skidded slightly on the wet ground, and I lost my balance, the heavy load of books in my hand slipping from my grip. They landed with a splat in a puddle, mud flying up to darken my white, sodden socks.
“Dammit,” I groaned, squatting carefully in my short plaid skirt to retrieve them.
“Here, let me,” a smooth baritone spoke from above me, and a moment later, Professor Morgan was beside me, reaching for my books.
I blinked the rain out of my eyes and offered him a small smile of thanks. In truth, I was in a rush and the man most students called Professor McDreamy had absolutely no effect on me. Rationally, I knew his wavy dark hair and square jaw dusted in salt and pepper stubble wereattractive. The hands that competently collected my texts were strong and tanned, even in October from the time he spent sailing his well-known boatPoseidon.
But I’d never fallen for his looks or his reputed charm. It seemed vaguely distasteful that he hosted his favorite students on boardPoseidonat the end of every semester for a dinner party, and that his office hours were always filled with the prettiest girls from his classes.
He was harmless in the way narcissists were harmless. It was easy to see through the glamor if you knew him for what he was.
“I haven’t seen you in my office hours yet this semester, Alexandra,” he said with a click of his tongue to rebuke me. “After three weeks of class, I expected to see you there.”
“I’m well versed in the classics,” I promised him with a weak smile because I wanted to linger out in the rain like I wanted a hole in the head. “I’ve been getting As all semester. I won’t slack off now.”
“Mmm,” he agreed, his eyes tracking over my face as he collected my last book and added it to his pile. When I reached for them, he held firm. “You know, I’d love to discuss your essay on Homer’s homoerotic undertones inThe Iliadover tea in my office sometime. I’m not sure if you’re aware,” he said in a way that meant he was certain Idid, “but I’m the leading authority on Homer.”
“In North America, definitely,” I corrected and agreed simultaneously, noting the way his granite jaw flexed in irritation. “I enjoy Sir Scott Linley’s work from England as well.”
“Yes, well, a bit derivative,” he harrumphed.
“When it comes to writers like Homer and Shakespeare, it’s almost impossible not to be,” I allowed, reaching for my stack of books again.
My fingers brushed his, and a spark shot up my arms. He seemed to feel it too, eyes widening then narrowing, darkening to a navy so black it was the sea beneath a night sky without stars.
He leaned just a bit closer, voice slightly hoarse as he whispered, “I admire you, Alexandra. A woman with your origins usually doesn’t thrive so well here at Acheron.”
Asshole, I thought even though I smiled humbly at him as I tugged my books out of his grasp and straightened. “‘There is no substitute for hard work,’” I quoted Thomas Edison, ignoring Professor Morgan’s gaze as it trailed up my tights-clad legs, lingering at the short hem of my plaid skirt. “For my whole life, I wanted to attend Acheron University.”
It was one of the top universities in North America and one of the oldest. For a girl who grew up in rural Virginia to doomsday prepper parents who didn’t believe in education, it represented both escape and enlightenment.
And I was here.
Starting my fourth year of my dual degree in philosophy and the classics.
Living my lifelong dream.
This time, when I smiled at Professor Morgan, it was genuine with gratitude. “I’ve never wanted anything else.”
He grinned back at me, shared passion alight in his expression. It made him handsome enough for me to notice. “Come, have tea with me. My assistant is graduating after this year, and I need a replacement. Someone with your drive would be a perfect fit.”
Excitement trilled through me. I was only minoring in the Classics, but an assistantship with one of the most renowned professors at Acheron could only help me in the future.
“I’d be honored to be considered,” I told him.
A crack of thunder rumbled across the sky, followed quickly by a brilliant white flash. Seconds later, the light rainfall transitioned to knife-point bullets. Professor Morgan shot me a grin, then tugged my hand and started to run down the path to his office.
Bemused by his boyishness and hating therain, I sprinted after him.
We were laughing by the time we reached Hippios Hall and pushed into the warm interior. Our shoes left large puddles on the red carpet lining the dark wood hall as we trudged down the corridor to his office.
