The Professor And The Madman Book Mga Nobela at Kwento

Not moving. Just burning a hole through me with those eyes. “Shit,” I whispered. Mike noticed. “Who’s that?” “No one.” Mike grinned. “The kind of no one that looks like he wants to murder me for touching you?” “He’s… complicated.” Mike raised a brow. “Does complicated have a name? Or do I keep dancing with you and risk catching a drink to the face?” “His name’s Adrian. He's our professor.” Mike’s grin widened. “What? I didn't know we had a hottie as our professor.”

"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?"

I slowly and carefully gathered my books, taking my time so I wouldn't have to walk too close to him. But he was already at the front desk, putting papers in order with his big, veined hands. I had to walk right past. "Professor," I mumbled, looking down at the floor. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. He didn't answer right away.

That was when I noticed it—something dark near the edge of the field, half submerged where the pond crept in like a lazy boundary that no one respected. A book. And beside it—thin-framed glasses. Her glasses. I walked toward it without thinking. The closer I got, the louder my wolf stirred, pacing in my head like it had been locked up too long. I bent down and picked up the book first. On My Professor’s Bed. I read the title out loud, my voice low, almost disbelieving. That didn’t match her at all. Not her nerdy appearance.Not the way she avoided eye contact. Not the way she flinched when anyone raised their voice. That title belonged to a reckless girl. A bold one. Not someone who apologize

He looked inhumane, their was a darkness shadowing his eyes which could make anyone tremle in their place. A terrifying scream left the professor's wife mouth as she watched the brutality infront of her. "P-please stop, h-he is d-dead" She pleaded with tears streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably. She felt like she was trapped in a nightmare. Her words had no effect on Ares as he continued to rip the professor's body into pieces, giving no mercy to his dead body even. He was driven by madness. The fucking professor dared to insult his mate by scolding her and punishing her. No one gets away after messing with because because messing with his mate means that the person is messing with him u

“Nude.” My entire body went rigid. “What the hell?” His expression remained frustratingly composed. “You heard me.” “You cannot be serious.” “I’m perfectly serious.” I let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, stepping backward and putting space between us before I did something stupid, like forget this man was my professor and throw the nearest object at his head. “You told me to follow you to your office, blackmail me with my scholarship, and now you’re asking me to take my clothes off for you?”

A hint of amusement laced his voice. "She was talking about some thesis, but I guess it was an excuse," Professor McClone teased. Sebastian's mind racing, he smiled. "Don't think too much, John. We were working on the Ashwood Heritage research. She wasn't lying," Sebastian clarified. Professor McClonechuckled. "I didn't ask for an explanation, Seb. Just meet her when you come back," Professor McClone said. With a final smile, Professor McClone hung up the call.

The same mouth that had been on me last night. Professor Elias Thorne. The man I fucked senseless in a hotel room. The man I was supposed to marry. He scanned the room and his eyes landed on me. I could see the same recognition I had on my face, flash through his. But it was gone in a second as he cleared his throat and stepped onto the podium. “Good morning,” he said calmly. “I’m Professor Thorne. Welcome to Advanced Literary Theory.” For a moment I just remained transfixed. Mara nudged me. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”