Novel & Cerita Professor And The Madman Book

When I open them, Luke is still watching me, waiting. "I need to get my bags," I whisper into the phone. "Luke will take care of everything. Just come to me." This man has always been able to turn my rational mind into chaos. He makes me forget who I am, forget what I want, forget every promise I've made to myself. I hand the phone back to Luke without another word and follow him toward the Range Rover. My legs feel like they're made of water, but I keep walking. I'm such an idiot.

the man said to the professor. "I obey your will master," the professor acquiesced. "Take this book as well," the man said smiling at the professor. "What is this book for, master?" the professor queried. It was a thick book with golden engravings on it that shines and changes at random, as if enchanted. It's a magical book, thought the professor. "It's a book on how to become an immortal. Spread that among my followers. Do not fail me, slave," the man said gravely. "As you wish master!" the professor's hand was trembling as he held the book on his hands.

Athena asked, curious about the significance of the book. He retrieved the book from the shelf and handed it to her. "This one." Athena realized it was the same book she had found in her office during their previous session. "His taste in books is kinda weird," Vincent added. "It's not about the taste, it's about what the heart and mind want to be fed with," Athena said thoughtfully. "And it seems like he wants to be fed with the dark."

I roll my eyes as I quickly follow after my professor who seemed to want to run away from them. I reach him as he unlocked the doors to his office, “After you.” He says with a sweep of hand. I giggle, glad to be alone with him again. “I do like a gentleman.” “Too bad what you got was a gentle professor right?” he says as he locks the door behind him. “Did I get a gentle professor or a naughty professor?” He slides up to me, our bodies barely touching, our eyes drinking each other up. “Which do you want now? I can be your gentle professor, or your naughty professor.” He says as he locks me up effortlessly and plops me down on his mahogany table.

There was something dangerous about him—something in the way he held himself, the quiet, restrained power in his movements. Who the hell was this man? The answer came seconds later as he reached the desk at the front of the room. He set down a leather-bound notebook, adjusted the cuffs of his suit, and then spoke. “Good morning, class. My name is Professor Dominic Valenti. I’ll be your lecturer for Criminal Psychology this semester.” The words barely registered. Isla’s pulse pounded in her ears. Valenti. The name was familiar. Too familiar. A name whispered in fear. A name that belonged to one of her father’s most ruthless rivals.

I watched the exact second his brain short-circuited trying to process the violent reality in front of him. To Leo, I was Professor Cross. I was the strict academic who stood at the front of a brightly lit lecture hall in a tailored suit, grading papers and discussing art history. I was not the man sitting behind a metal desk in an underground biker club with bruised knuckles and a loaded Glock resting near my right hand. Seeing me here broke his reality entirely. I did not break eye contact with the kid. I stood up slowly. The metal legs of my chair scraped a harsh, grating sound against the concrete floor.

Even more, he had to return when the time came. Once he was out of the library and in his car, he finally rummaged through them. There were a couple of romance novels, building repairs, and the biography of Professor Mozart. The one he thought was a self-help book was a romance novel. He looked at the autobiography of the professor. Just seeing the smug smile on that bastard's face made him angry. All these years, this man has manipulated the universe into thinking he was a saint. It made Jalefel sick to his stomach. He tossed the book on the backseat, wishing it would be buried underneath trash. Sadly, he kept his work vehicle immaculate. So, it would sit there unopened. He picked up one of

"You're doing this on purpose! If you don't have it, just say so! What's the point in messing with us?" Hank shrugged. "It's kinda funny. Don't you think?" "Has anyone ever told you that you're unbelievably annoying, especially with that smug face?" Madison shot back. Hank's smirk hardened. "Say that again, I dare you!" "Oh, I'll say it! You're an arrogant jerk! You're petty and pathetic!" Hank's smile disappeared. "You want the truth? Not only do I have the professor's contact, but I also know where he is right now. But I'm not telling you. What are you gonna do about it?"

They’d caught her on camera going into my hostel and it was dated around the time my side of the room had been torn apart. The P.I was right to assume that there could have been two people involved. Two psycho relatives. “Professor Deric is moody today.” Jack whispered beside me. I rolled my eyes at him. “He’s always moody.” “Nah. Today’s different.” “How would you know?” I was turning defensive all of a sudden. “Guess who’s moody too.” I frowned at Jack. He was right, I was moody too but I was going to blame it on PMS.

He turned and caught me staring. His dark eyes darkened further. He stood slowly, towering over the desk, and took the books from my hands. His fingers lingered against mine again, deliberate this time. “That skirt,” he murmured, voice low and rough, sending heat pooling between my thighs, “violates at least three sections of the student dress code, Miss Blake.” My breath hitched. He was so close I could see the faint scar peeking above his collar, the sharp line of his jaw, the intensity burning in his gaze. For a moment, the cold, indifferent professor mask slipped, revealing something hungry underneath.