Things That Go Hump In The Night (80 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Truth

It
took everything in him not to follow her out the door, but Riker knew that the last thing Mara wanted right now was for him to follow her. He paced back and forth in the office, his thoughts swirling, emotions swinging between despair and hate.

The panther was angry. When he closed his eyes he could almost see it inside him: eyes narrowed, tail swishing, and lips peeled back from its teeth in a hiss. Riker thought of the panther as some
other
being, but in truth it was an undeniable part of him, like anything else.

She’s not coming back,
he thought, angry at himself for getting attached in the first place.
This is all Jonathan’s fault.

He tried to live a normal life. It had been his only demand before leaving the others in pursuit of his MFA: he wanted to be left alone.

They weren’t a gang, exactly, but they weren’t a family either. It was something altogether different. They’d gone into the cave together, and come out of it
different
in the same way. Their life on the streets had made them tough, so they survived where others died gruesome deaths. That one night had not only changed their lives but connected them to each other. Looking back, they’d been so young, street rats fighting for survival, turned into deadly supernatural beings. It was no wonder he wanted to break away from that life when he’d never been allowed to live freely.

When he closed his eyes and really concentrated, he could
feel
where Jonathan was, the way he could feel where his own foot was or the back of his hand.
Half a dozen bodies, one head.
The other werepanther was waiting for him. Riker prowled outside towards him, itching for a confrontation.

“What did you tell her?” he demanded, knowing that even from an unusual distance, Jonathan could hear him with his supernatural ears.

“The truth. Or as much of it as I could.”

Riker stopped a few feet away from Jonathan, his fists balled at his side. He wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face repeatedly, but he couldn’t start a fight out here in public. No doubt that was why the other man had walked out onto the campus where a hundred people could see them; he knew that Riker would be angry.

And he was angry. Angry enough, in fact, that he made a rash decision. “The deal is off. I’m not coming back to the clan. You can tell them.”

Shock registered in Jonathan’s eyes. “You can’t mean that. You know what it will do to you, being separate from us for so long. You’ll lose control of the panther inside. It’s already begun.” His voice was insistent, but Riker ignored his words, not wanting to acknowledge their truth.

“Panthers aren’t even a pack animal. And I’d rather be a lone shifter than a slave.”

“You wouldn’t be a slave, and you know that.” Out of desperation, Jonathan tried to seek out Riker’s mind, attempting to connect with him telepathically, but Riker resisted the link and forced him out.

“I want you to go.”

For a moment, it seemed like Jonathan would resist, but something in him seemed to fold up and he nodded. “I’ll go. But I can’t guarantee the others won’t show up here, too. We need you back, Riker. It’s been two years too long.” He turned, seemingly done speaking, only to turn back again. “And you’re not doing yourself—or that girl of yours—any favors by trying to control the panther alone.”

Then he was gone, and once again Riker was the only supernatural being on the BCAH campus. He tried to forget Jonathan’s warning, but it crept into his head for the rest of the day.

Crying
my eyes out seemed to have helped. When I woke up the next morning I felt clearer than before, ready to face the day.

I also had hair stuck to the side of my face from crying into my pillow all night, but no one had to see me.

Riker.
My heart ached for a moment, thinking of him. Had it only been a short week and a half since we’d met? Somehow it felt longer, which was absurd if I stopped to think about it.

It’s not him I miss,
I tried to convince myself, determined to be strong.
It’s the idea of him more than anything. I don’t know him well enough to miss him.

Still, as Nora had reminded me last night, the strongest heartache can follow knowing someone for just a short time. The glimpse I’d had of a future with him had been torn from me; of course I would be sad about that.

I took a long, hot shower, scrubbed my face, and put on my best makeup to prepare for the day. The events of yesterday had gotten in the way of finishing my weekend homework, but I was determined not to waste today, too.

Of course, one of my assignments involved
him.

“I could drop the class,” I said to my reflection, thinking aloud. “Is that letting him win, though? I shouldn’t have to spend another semester at school just because of some lying jerk.”

Toying with my options, I decided that the best course now was to go forward. I’d never forgive myself if I let some guy I barely knew get in the way of my education. If that meant shading in the rest of Riker’s abs to turn in to my life drawing class tomorrow, so be it.

A note taped to the fridge let me know that Nora was out for the day, but available via phone if I needed her. Since I was alone in the dorm, I turned my music on and blasted it through the living room. Bright, poppy sounds distracted me from the ache in my heart.

I had other homework, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to get through it until I tackled the drawing. I pulled it out with a heavy heart, tacking it to my drafting desk and pulling the surface up to an angle so I could rest my hand comfortably against it.

The drawing was more finished than I remembered, but it still lacked contrast and dynamism. I wanted—no,
needed
—to start this class out right, to prove that I had what it took to be a professional artist. Human forms were the pinnacle of artistic skill, at least in my eyes. This drawing would set the bar for the rest of my assignments that semester, and I would be expected to improve based on how well I completed it.

Determined, I picked up my pencils and got to work.

Almost
an hour had passed when I pulled back from the drawing, and I only knew how much time had gone by because my playlist started over at the beginning. I took a moment to stretch my hands and fingers, staring at the drawing so far.

It was
almost
there. If only I could see clearly, I would know what was missing. But like any artist, the point where I had to stop came before the point of perfection. If I kept going now, I knew I was just as likely to ruin the drawing as to improve it. With all hope, I’d at least get a good grade out of staring at (and touching) Riker’s nude form so much that I was able to draw it practically blindfolded.

Of course, I’d left certain areas to the imagination. There was no reason to share his endowment with the world.

A smile tickled at my face when I thought of our time between the sheets, but I banished it as soon as I felt it. I couldn’t let myself feel for him anymore—especially not when I had class tomorrow to look forward to. So I sprayed the drawing with sealant, slid it into my portfolio, and did my best to concentrate on art history instead of personal history.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

See Me

The
next morning, I tried to console myself with the thought that Riker couldn’t be looking forward to seeing me in class either. Instead of calming me, though, that thought just made me run every possible scenario through my head.

I wished I could talk to Nora, but she’d texted me the night before to let me know she wasn’t coming back to the dorm until this afternoon. She left out any details to keep from rubbing it in my face, but I knew this meant that just as
my
romantic life was falling apart, hers was coming together. Even though I wanted desperately to talk to her more, I told her I was fine and that she should enjoy herself; the last thing I wanted to be was a wet blanket over my friend’s love life.

It must’ve taken me twice the normal time to walk across campus to the art building. Every single fiber of my being wanted to turn around and go back home, but I soldiered on, determined to face my fears. My legs didn’t seem to get the message of determination, though, because class was almost full by the time I got there.

Peeking over, I was relieved when I didn’t see Riker or his belongings in the front of class; as long as I went straight to my easel and kept it in front of me, I could avoid looking at him as much as possible.

“I saved you a seat,” Kayla called when she saw me, waving me over to where we usually sat. “Vultures circled around it, but I didn’t let them take it. Wouldn’t want you stuck in the back without a good view of today’s model.”

I smiled at her, trying to make it seem genuine even though I wasn’t feeling like smiling. “Thanks, Kayla. I wonder who we’ll get today.”

“Who knows? I’m just disappointed it won’t be hot TA. He’s not even showing up to class today.”

My heart skipped a beat at that news. “Really?” I tried to seem disinterested, fiddling with my portfolio instead of staring at her intently.

“Apparently he had some family issues.” She leaned in close to me. “Although that part, I’m not supposed to know. I was here early and I heard the professor talking to him on the phone.”

I knew what ‘family issues’ had to be code for: his fake brother was in town, and they were up to something.
Whatever he’s up to doesn’t matter. At least I won’t see him today.

Still, it was odd to realize I was disappointed. After all the tension and expectation, I’d put on a brave face that morning for nothing; it would be days before I had to face Riker again.

As
part of our first assignment, every student in the class tacked their drawing of Riker up on the wall and we all took turns critiquing them.

“Remember,” professor Hickory said, “we’re not here to tear each other down. Try to give
constructive
criticism, and if you just don’t like a piece, refrain from saying anything at all.”

Even though I was nervous about my turn, a quick study of all the other drawings on the wall confirmed that my critique would hardly be the worst of them. I tried not to gloat—everyone was taking this class for the first time—but it looked like some of the students hadn’t put any work into theirs at all. Reminding myself that I had an unfair advantage since I assessed the model outside of class, I resolved not to say anything bad about any of the other pieces.

Kayla, to her credit, had also done a pretty good job, though like most of the students, she’d put very little detail work into rendering Riker’s tattoos. Most of the panther tattoos looked more like dogs, and a few of them were just blobs at his hip. One of the students hadn’t even tried to draw the tattoos at all. Thankfully for me, someone else in the class brought that up, so I didn’t have to point it out.

“Alright, this piece is next.” The professor motioned towards my dark, high contrast drawing of Riker. “Who does this belong to?”

Shyly, I raised my hand. “It’s mine.”

“Very well. Let’s start at the end of the row with critiques. What do you think of Mara’s drawing?”

Bit by bit, the compliments started to flow.

“I love how dark you made it.”

“The muscles in his back are very well defined.” I’d drawn him twisting over to one side, his back clenched.

“The contrast is great, although I wish I could see his face,” one of the students said—my first piece of criticism. I blushed, wondering if I’d unintentionally drawn his face in shadow because I couldn’t stand the thought of looking at him.

“I like that,” Kayla said, coming to my defense. “It makes him look mysterious.”

The critique went on, without anything new or different really being said. At the end, the professor was supposed to say something, but she just stared at my drawing.

“Professor Hickory?”

Whipping her head around, she seemed to remember me for the first time. “Ah, yes. Mara. I want you to talk to me after class.”

Heart pounding, I nervously wondered what she wanted to talk about.
Does she somehow know I slept with Riker? Did she find out we had sex on her desk?
The thought was mortifying, and it occupied me for the rest of class. I watched everyone walk out of the classroom, wishing I could follow.

Instead, I stepped forward to where she sat at her desk. “You wanted to speak to me?”

She had all of our drawings stacked up on her desk, thin sheets of paper between them to keep the graphite from smudging. My drawing was on top, and she was staring at it intently.

“Truly, this piece far exceeds what I was expecting from a first assignment.”

Sighing in relief, I let go of my anxiety that she somehow knew about me and Riker. “Thank you, professor.”

“This is not typical from a beginning student at the start of the year, but with your permission I’d like to put it up on the wall.”

Stunned, I could only stand there stupidly. “My drawing? Up on the wall?”

“Yes, Mara.” She smiled, and I had to smile right along with her. “Up on the wall.”

Of course, I said yes. How could I not?

I
stared at the drawing after class, wondering if it was some sick twist of fate that Riker’s figure would stare at me for the rest of the semester. Was it fate or just coincidence that brought us together?

Whatever brought us together, I wondered if we could truly be done with each other so quickly.