The Alpha's College Mate

Chapter 10

Clara’s POV

The library held thousands of books, and not one of them helped in the slightest.

I shoved another volume back onto the shelf, hoping I had returned it to the correct spot so others could find it, then pulled out the next mythology text and quickly scanned the blurb for anything useful.

When that book failed too I set it back and yawned.

I had not slept.

Since nine o’clock last night I had paced my tiny dorm room, replaying every second and wondering what I had done wrong. What had shifted in those few moments? At first Professor Vance had been so determined to please me, and then, right when I was about to finish, he ordered me to leave and not look back.

Maybe he finally understood what he was doing.

Maybe he realized he had crossed a line by touching a student.

Maybe hegah, I did not know. I could not make sense of it at all. He had been so possessive, so hungry, so dominant last night when he lifted me onto his desk, tore off my panties, and claimed my p***y as his.

What changed?

Deciding I would never figure it out, I stepped back to examine the higher shelf. I rose onto my toes, searching for the book I had been hunting since six this morning, because last night, while I lay on Professor Vance’s desk completely undone, I swore I had seen something I had only ever read about in mythology texts.

After three more books I finally pulled down one that matched my search almost perfectly. I exhaled in relief, checked the time, and realized I would be late for mythology. I did not particularly want to face Vance’s class after last night, but I also did not want to miss it.

That was not like me, and I could not afford to fail this semester.

I could not go home to Mom and Dad.

At the checkout counter the tired, under-caffeinated student with messy black hair took the book from me. “Greek mythology, huh?” he asked, scanning the barcode and tapping a few keys.

“I do not remember Professor Vance assigning this when I took his class.”

My pulse quickened at the sound of his name. “How did you know I take mythology with Vance?”

He offered the brightest smile he could manage at a few minutes before eight a.m. “He is the only professor who teaches mythology at this university. Plus, no other classics instructor would ever assign The Legend of Lycaon. They are all too old and far too devoted to Homer.”

“True,” I said, keeping the conversation light.

Once I had the book I held it against my chest and left the library, heading straight for Classics with Professor Vance. The book might relate to mythology, but I had not checked it out for his class. I took it because last night I swore I had seen something in Professor Vance’s eyes that defied explanation.

Every few moments his eyes flickered to a yellow-gold.

Every article, every social media post, every WebMD entry insisted that was impossible for a human. And… I was probably overthinking everything and inventing details… yet I felt certain I had read something about eyes changing color in mythology before.

I opened the book, flipped through the first pages, and walked toward the classics building as a cold wind cut across my skin. I tugged my light fall jacket tighter and glanced up just in time to see Levi emerge from the forest, hair a wild mess and eyes glowing gold.

I sucked in a sharp breath, snapped the book shut, and ducked behind a building, staring at him with wide eyes as he swung a backpack over one shoulder and headed for the classics building, biceps stretching his T-shirt in the early morning light.

How was he not freezing?

I watched like a complete creep for a few more seconds until Levi disappeared inside. Then I stepped back onto the path, exhaled hardtelling myself I was simply sleep-deprivedand continued toward the classics building.

The closer I got to the entrance, the heavier my feet felt. I did not want to be here today. I wanted to crawl back into my dorm and sleep through every single class.

My stomach twisted into tight knots at the thought of facing Professor Vance. What would I even say? Would he want to speak to me at all? Would he acknowledge what happened? What if he pretended nothing had occurred?

Gosh, this was going to be even more awkward than I had imagined all night.

About twenty feet ahead Jasmine climbed the steps and disappeared through the classics building door. I stopped dead and sucked in another sharp breath, nerves racing up and down my spine, breath catching in my throat.

What was she doing here?

She did not take any mythology or classics courses. Hell, the closest building she had a class in was the science building, nearly a quarter mile west. She would never set foot in this building unless…

Fuck.

I clenched my hands into fists and ground my teeth together.

If she had switched into Vance’s class…

Unable to stop myself, I shoved the nerves aside and hurried up the steps after her, rushing toward the mythology classroom and stopping just outside the double doors. Even from here I could smell the heavy vanilla perfume she layered on every morning.

“No,” I whispered to myself. “No. She cannot.”

After another deep breath I peered around the doorframe into the room.

Jasmine stood at the front of the class in a skimpy cropped tank top that showed off her toned, tanned abs, grinning from ear to ear. After tucking a strand of hair behind her ear she said something I could not quite catch to Professor Vance, and he smiled at her. A real f*****g smile.

Those same lips that had ordered me out of his office last night were smiling at Jasmine.

I balled my fists, tears stinging my eyes, and turned back toward my dorm to read. All this time I had believed… that I meant something to him. But that was my mistake for thinking anything real could exist between us.

Professor Vance had made a mistake last night. And there was only one way to make certain I was never his mistake again. I was going to switch out of his class.