I feel as if I’m standing on the precipice of an abyss, destiny hinged on a single choice.

Fuck it.

I push through the barrier, cutting a direct path to my muse.

The sun sets behind the campus, the rays of faded orange and pink cast her in an aethereal glow as I stalk toward her, my gaze tapered to a pinpoint on my prey.

I sink my hands into the depths of my pockets as I approach, slowly, so I’m not tempted to touch her. “You’re an intriguing little thing.”

Her hazel eyes narrow, but there’s a faint curl to her lips. “I must be. I’ve noticed you studying me like some cryptic artifact, Professor Locke.”

Amused, I grin and cock my head. “So my reputation proceeds me.”

“It does,” she says, crossing her arms. “The renowned professor of all things occult and esoteric philosophy.” Her smile stretches. “But also, I’ve heard more than one person refer to you as the bad-boy of academia.”

My smile turns devilish. “I suppose it depends on who you talk to. But please, it’s Kallum.”

She licks her lips, and my gaze drops to her mouth as I suppress a groan. “Well, it’s nice to officially meet you, Kallum. Maybe next time you can show us around your department.”

I look past her to the couple retreating from the courtyard. “How about now?” I might regret this—I’m not usually up for impressing parents—but my instincts are screaming not to let her leave.

“Now?” She arches a delicate eyebrow.

“Right now.”

She bites the corner of her lip. “Thank you for the offer, but I have a job to get back to.”

“Hmm. That’s hardly any fun.”

“Those are the rules, professor.”

“Rules are definitely no fun.” I drop my tone to a dangerous decibel as my gaze settles on the ring circling her finger, the challenge in my gaze unmistakable.

A defiant spark flickers in her eyes, then she swipes the lock of white from her vision. The desire to tuck that defiant streak behind her ear hits me fierce and hot.

I might be on my way to hell for this, but fuck, I’ll descend those fiery crags for this angel.

If she needs a villain to steal her away, I can be that ruthless bastard.

“All right,” she finally says, accepting my challenge. “Just…give me a minute.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

I’d wait a millennia for her—but the crippling fear she won’t return unexpectedly assaults me, and I call out, “You didn’t give me your name.”

A sly smile twists her sultry mouth. “I know.”

While students filter past in a rush to escape the grounds, I wait patiently, more patiently than I’ve ever waited for anything in my miserable, selfish existence, until she mercifully returns.

My advance is intercepted by the man who shares similar features as her. I extend my hand. “Professor Kallum Locke,” I say in introduction. “I head up the occult sciences department.”

“Oh, of course.” He accepts the handshake. “Dean Masters sings your praises every year we visit. Darrin St. James. This is my wife Silvia, and my daughter Halen.”

I nod to the woman. “Lovely to meet you.” Then I give my undivided attention to Halen, echoing her name like a song. “Like the band Van Halen?” I arch an eyebrow, purposely popping the dimple in my cheek.

She’s affected, inhaling a fortifying breath before she nods. “Like the band,” she confirms, and fucking hell, I’m tempted to steal her away just so I can keep her sweet voice all to myself. “It’s this whole romantic meet-cute between my parents.”

Darrin chuckles. “We met at a concert,” he supplies. “Silvia was wearing this white dress, standing out like an angel and immediately ruining me for anyone else.” He gives his wife an affectionate glance. “We were both in attendance here for three years before that night. I guess the fates finally pushed us together.”

While he’s telling their story, my focus is on Halen, the way she beams at these two people with pride and love. It’s such a foreign experience for me, I’m entranced.

“It’s our anniversary,” Silvia says in follow up. “We return to the university every year just to reminisce. But honestly, we really should be getting back, sweetheart.”

“Please, let me show you around the new wing first,” I offer. “College traffic is terrible right now. Too many reckless drivers on the roads. Trust me.”

This seems to sway them, and Silvia nods in agreement.

And I am an utter gentlemen as I give the St. James’s a tour. Even as we gravitate toward the other side of campus and I’m scheming how to keep little Halen longer. Forever.

I’ve concluded her ring is an engagement ring. I don’t have to know this man to know he’s not good enough for her. Hell, I’m not good enough—but I will damn sure try to be what she needs.

“You haven’t mentioned what you do yet,” I say to her.

“I’m a crime-scene analyst,” she says. “I investigate violent crime scenes to build profiles on offenders.”

I hike an eyebrow as I try to envision this beautiful sprite of a woman amid all that chaos and darkness. “That’s fascinating, and dark.”

A curious crease forms between her brows. “Um, yes. Some people find it scary.” She twists her ring.

“Some people can’t understand the draw to chase the darker side.” And if I have to, I will become that darkness she chases.

She swallows, her slender throat working. “I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this, but your eyes are distracting.”

A smile ghosts my lips. My clever sprite is changing the topic. “Should I take that as a compliment?”

She peeks up at me as we continue to walk. “I have no doubt that you will despite my intent.”

I wet my lips, tasting her on the air. “Oh no, intent is everything.”

The evening has deepened to shades of navy and space, cloaking us in the dark to instill a sense of seclusion. The grounds are still as I slow my pace, forcing us to fall a distance behind her parents.

“Thank you for doing this for them,” Halen says, drawing her arms around her waist.

“Sure,” I say, slowing my steps further, “but just to be clear, I did this for me, simply in the hopes to get you alone.”

She laughs. “You have no shame.”

“None.” I send her a sly smile, invoking another shiver. “You’re trembling.”

“I’m not used to the weather.”

“Here.” I remove my suit blazer and drape it over her shoulders before we wander toward the parking lot.

She hugs the jacket tighter around her, and seeing her in my clothes wreaks havoc on my mental state. I know the jacket will carry her delectable scent, and I’m tortured in preparation for tomorrow’s lectures.

“You know, I recently read one of your papers,” she says casually.

This surprises me, and I bury my hands in my pockets. “Which one?”

“Something on quantum mysticism that compares shamanism to the many-worlds theory.” She shakes her head. “It made my head hurt, actually.”

My smile twitches, and I remove a hand to run it over my mouth. “Feynman said, anyone who claims to understand quantum theory is either lying or crazy.”

She glances up at me. “And which one are you?”

A strange feeling washes over me, a sense we’ve done this before. “I’d think that’s for the profiler to decide.” I send her a wink, earning a sweet blush. “But now you have to settle my ego and tell me your thoughts.”

Halen stops walking and turns toward me. “Honestly? I’m a hardcore realist. I want to argue against all of it. But…I don’t know. I always try to question everything, even what my mind tells me is impossible.”

“That’s a non-answer,” I accuse delicately.

She senses she’s been caught. “Okay then. I think quantum theory is witchcraft.” She shrugs, and my jacket engulfs her adorably.

I can’t help it, I laugh. “You’re not too far off, sweetness.” She inhales a sharp breath as I step right in front of her. “Here, let me offer a demonstration.”

I capture her hair and pull it over her shoulder, then slowly drag the band down the length of her soft tresses, admiring the way the dark layers spill over her shoulder.