HIS PROTECTION
1700 Words
9
Ayla's POV
Professor Arkon grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. "Listen to me. Even if that was you in the photo, it doesn't mean you attacked Damien. You could have been running toward the forest for any reason. You could have sensed danger. You could have been sleepwalking in wolf form."
"Or I could have attacked him and don't remember."
His jaw clenched. "No. I don't believe that."
"Why not? Everyone else does."
"Because I know you." His voice was fierce. "And I'm going to prove you're innocent. But I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"
I stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
"Good." He released my shoulders but kept one hand on my arm. "There's someone I need you to meet. Someone who might have answers about what's happening to you. About why you're shifting without memory, about your bloodline, about all of it."
"Who?"
Professor Arkon's eyes glowed faintly in the dim hallway. "Someone who knew your mother. Someone who can help you understand what you really are."
The hallway felt like it was closing in on me. Students passed by, their whispers following us like shadows. I could feel their stares, hear the barely concealed speculation in their voices.
"That's her. The silent girl."
"I heard she was the last one to see Damien before he disappeared."
"Do you think she...?"
Professor Arkon's hand remained firm on my back, guiding me away from the Dean's office and down a corridor I had never been through before. This part of the administration building was quieter, older. The walls were lined with portraits of past professors, their painted eyes seeming to follow our movement.
I should tell him to stop touching me. Should put distance between us before more people notice. But his presence was the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.
"Where are we going?" I wrote quickly, holding up my whiteboard as we walked.
"Somewhere private," he said without looking at me. "Somewhere they can't listen."
My pulse quickened. The way he said 'they' made it sound like there were more enemies than just Investigator Marsh and her suspicions.
We stopped at a door near the end of the hallway. It was unmarked, made of heavy dark wood that looked like it belonged in a medieval castle rather than a modern academy. Professor Arkon pulled out a key and unlocked it.
The room beyond was nothing like I expected.
It was circular, with high ceilings and windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. Bookshelves lined the curved walls, packed with ancient-looking volumes. In the center stood a round table covered in maps and documents.
But what caught my attention was the weapons rack near the back swords, daggers, and strange implements I couldn't name.
"What is this place?" I wrote.
"My real office," Professor Arkon said, locking the door behind us. "The other one is for show. This is where I do the work that actually matters."
He moved to the table and swept several documents aside, then pulled out a chair for me. When I didn't immediately sit, he gave me a look that was somehow both commanding and gentle.
"Sit, Ayla. You look like you're about to collapse."
He was right. My legs were trembling, and the adrenaline from the interrogation was wearing off, leaving me hollow and exhausted. I sank into the chair.
Professor Arkon walked to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of amber liquid and two glasses. He poured a small amount into each and brought one to me.
I shook my head and wrote, "I'm a student."
"And you just found out your ex-mate was attacked and you're the prime suspect. I think we can make an exception." He pressed the glass into my hand. "It's just whiskey. It'll calm your nerves."
I stared at the liquid, then at him. His amber eyes held something dark. Something protective and possessive that made my stomach flip.
This was wrong. I knew it was wrong. A professor shouldn't be giving alcohol to his student. Shouldn't be bringing her to his private office and locking the door. Shouldn't be looking at me like that.
But I took a small sip anyway. It burned going down, but the warmth that spread through my chest was oddly comforting.
Professor Arkon drained his glass in one swallow, then set it down with more force than necessary. When he looked at me again, his expression was troubled.
"I need to tell you something," he said. "And you're not going to like it."
My hand tightened around my glass. I set it down carefully and picked up my whiteboard, ready.
He pulled out the chair across from me and sat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. For a moment, he just looked at me, like he was trying to decide how much to say.
"That photo they showed you," he finally said. "The white wolf running toward the forest. It was you."
I started to write a protest, but he held up a hand.
"Let me finish. Yes, you shifted last night. Yes, you ran toward the forest. But you didn't attack Damien."
"How do you know?" I wrote, my hand shaking.
"Because I followed you."
The whiteboard nearly slipped from my fingers. "What?"
Professor Arkon stood and began pacing, his movements restless and agitated. "I told you I checked on you. That wasn't entirely true. I didn't just send a message, I came to your dorm. I saw you leave, saw you shift in the shadows near the vending machines. And then I followed you."
My mind was reeling. I wrote quickly, anger mixing with confusion. "Why?"
He stopped pacing and looked at me, and the intensity in his eyes made my breath catch. "Because I knew something was wrong. Because every instinct I have was screaming at me to protect you. Because..." He ran a hand through his dark hair, frustrated. "Because I couldn't stay away from you even if I wanted to."
The air between us seemed to thicken. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
I should be furious. Should be writing angry words about boundaries and privacy. But all I could feel was a confusing mix of violation and... relief? That someone had been watching over me?
"You shifted, but you weren't in control," he continued, his voice quieter now. "You were moving like someone in a trance. Like you were being called. So I followed you into the forest."
"And?" I wrote, almost afraid to know.
"And you ran straight to the old sanctuary ruins. You stood there in the moonlight for maybe ten minutes, completely still, like you were listening to something only you could hear. Then you shifted back, naked and shivering, with no memory of how you got there."
Heat flooded my face not just embarrassment, but anger too. I wrote furiously: "You watched me? While I was naked?"
"I gave you my jacket the moment you shifted back," he said quickly. "And I turned away while you... I didn't look, Ayla. I swear to you."
I wanted to believe him. But my hands were shaking as I wrote: "You had no right."
"I know." He moved closer, crouching in front of my chair. "I know I crossed a line. Multiple lines. But if I hadn't been there, you would have woken up alone in the forest, confused and vulnerable. And if whoever is framing you had found you first..." His jaw clenched. "I couldn't risk that."
"I don't remember any of that," I wrote, my anger deflating into fear.
"I know. That's what worries me." He was at eye level with me now, his amber eyes searching mine. "Something is happening to you. Something connected to your wolf, to your bloodline. And whatever it is, it's getting stronger."
"The attack on Damien..." I wrote slowly.
"Wasn't you," he said firmly. "While you were at the ruins, I could hear it happening. It was at least half a mile away, near the warehouse district. There's no way you could have gotten there and back in that time. Especially not without me seeing you."
Relief flooded through me, so intense it made me dizzy. "Then I'm not…"
"No. You're not." His voice was absolute. "But someone wants it to look like you are." His jaw clenched. "That photo they showed you? The angle was too perfect, the timestamp too convenient. Someone is setting you up."
"Who?" I wrote quickly. "Why?"
"I don't know yet. But I'm going to find out." He took the whiteboard from my hands and set it aside, then took my hands in his. His touch was warm, almost hot, and I could feel the calluses on his palms. "Until then, you need to trust me. Can you do that?"
I stared at our joined hands, at the way his thumbs were making small circles on my skin.
This was so far beyond appropriate. He was my professor. I was his student. He'd followed me into the forest, watched me shift, seen me vulnerable in ways no one should. And now he was here, touching me like he had every right to. Like I belonged to him.
The scary part was how much I wanted to belong to him.
I should pull away. Should write something about professional boundaries and how this couldn't happen. Should remind him and myself of all the reasons this was wrong.
Instead, I nodded.
He brought one of my hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to my knuckles, a gesture so unexpectedly tender that it made my chest ache.
"Good," he murmured against my skin. "Because from now on, you don't go anywhere without me. Classes, meals, even back to your dorm. I'll be your shadow."
"People will talk," I wrote with my free hand, trying to inject some rationality into this moment.
"Let them." His eyes met mine, fierce and unwavering. "I'd rather deal with rumors than find you hurt or worse."
The bluntness of his words sent a chill through me. "You think whoever did this will come after me?"
- Writer
