All Chapters of Craving My Alpha Professor: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Alpha Jaxon:She had freckles on her shoulder.Three of them, close together, just below the curve where her neck became her arm. I hadn't noticed them before or I had, and the rest of her had been too consuming to let any single detail stay.But she was still now, face pressed into the pillow, her red hair spread across the white linen like something spilled, and I had nothing to do but look.The lupine pendant sat at the base of her throat, catching the faint light from the window. It was holding my scent inside a boundary, keeping it from flaring outward the way it had in the alley, the way it had, I suspected, every night she'd gone back to that club and stood in a room full of things that could smell what she didn't know she was carrying.She shifted in her sleep and the pendant moved with her and I watched it settle again.She had no idea what she was. No idea what I'd put around her neck, why, or what it meant that she couldn't take it off.She thought it was a gesture of posse

Emberlyn:The Tuesday timetable had never looked so good.No Organic Biology, grey eyes tracking me from the front of a lecture hall or specific quality of attention that I could feel on the back of my neck from thirty feet away. Just Comparative Literature and a stats seminar.Who could have thought I would enjoy the ordinary, unremarkable experience of being a college student who was not sleeping with her professor.I sat through both classes with my notes open, my pen moving and my brain mostly present, which was the best performance I'd managed in a week.By two-thirty I was packing up my bag in the hallway outside the seminar room and thinking about nothing except the forty-minute subway ride to Manhattan General and Mila's face when she finally got to leave that room.The only thing that mattered today was the fact that it was Mila’s discharge day.I slung my bag over my shoulder, turned toward the exit, and walked directly into a chest.My bag slid off my shoulder and hit the f

Emberlyn: The man had driven across the city because of a text message. That was the part I couldn't get past. Not the knock on the door or the way he'd walked into my apartment like the narrow hallway had been expecting him but the reason. He was standing in the middle of my room now. The string lights made everything warm and amber and he in his dark shirt and dark trousers and he was watching me with those grey eyes made it hot. I was trying very hard to remember what point I'd been trying to make. But I couldn’t. "As I opened my mouth he closed the distance between us in two steps, his hand curving around the side of my throat, not tight, just firm and kissed me in a way that made the sentence I'd been building dissolve before it finished forming. He pulled back just far enough. "I'll show you," he said quietly, "what a whore feels like." His eyes held mine. "It's not you." Whatever was left of my sensible brain made one last attempt. My mother was in the next

Emberlyn:"You look gorgeous," Kimberly said, and stepped back to assess me with critical eyes. She looked like someone who had strong opinions about the difference between almost and exactly right.I looked in the mirror on the back of her dorm room door.Black dress, fitted through the waist, hem sitting just above my knee. My hair down for once, the curls loose instead of wrestled into something practical.The pendant sat at my throat. I'd stopped trying to remove it and had started thinking of it as a feature rather than a complication."The necklace pulls it together," Kim said, appearing in the mirror behind me in a gold dress that was doing everything it was supposed to do."Where did you get it?""Gift," I said.She had follow-up questions written all over her face but eventually chose, generously, not to ask them."Okay." She grabbed her bag."We're going to be late.""We're going to be exactly on time.""Which is late." She pulled the door open and looked back at me."Come o

Jaxon: The black dress was okay. I knew it before she'd finished turning to check the back in the mirror the way it sat at her shoulders, the colour against her skin, the hem landing exactly where it needed to. Marie the seamstress knew it too. She was already moving to the packaging station before Emberlyn had said a word. Emberlyn looked at herself for a long moment. Then, quietly, to her own reflection: "Okay. Yes." "Wrap it," I said to Marie. My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket. I stepped toward the entrance while Emberlyn changed back, the boutique door muffling the street noise as I answered. "Alpha." Lewis said unhurried. "Talk." "Edison." He said the name carefully, with full attention. "We have intelligence that he may attend tonight." I looked out the window. The quiet West Village street was outside and a cab was moving through an intersection, while a woman walked a dog the size of a small chair. "Your source?" "Reliable. He's been to three of