ROMANCE: SHIFTER: Shifter to the Max Collection (Dragon, Bear, Wolf and Panther Shifter Romances) (Paranormal Fantasy Romance Collection) (41 page)

It had been Marissa's idea to go to the Fun Fair.

             
Marissa's idea,
Kira reminded herself, as she fought her way through the crowd of students on the makeshift midway. And where was Marissa now? Sixty feet up in the Ferris wheel and locking lips with a boy she barely knew from their dorm.

              The Campus Fun Fair was an event hosted annually every spring. This was Kira's first, and likely to be her last. There was nothing much to attract her interest as she wove between the stalls. The whole affair had been set up in the main parking lot and adjoining track field: there were bumper cars, roller coasters, a Ferris wheel, a Tunnel of Love…

              There were also food trucks and food vendors almost everywhere she turned, and the smell was starting to make Kira nauseous. She could feel herself salivating every time she passed by a hot dog vendor, but she wouldn't stop long enough to let herself look. It was likely she wouldn't be able to keep any of it down, anyway.

              Her clothes were starting to hang more loosely off her as a result. Tonight was warm, and she had used it as an excuse to don a flannel shirt and a pair of tight cutoffs. She noticed she was getting a lot of looks as she passed down the open alleyway between stalls, enough to make her regret her wardrobe choice. The last thing she wanted was for people to be looking at her in case something unexpected happened. She already had to pull out her phone every five minutes to check her face in the reverse camera display.

              This was bad. She wasn't having any fun, and she shouldn't be out this late. She was just turning back to head to her car when a commotion drew her attention over to the dunk tank.

              There was Professor Donovan, dressed casually for once in fitted jeans and a white V-neck. Kira stopped, momentarily startled by the disparity. He was surrounded by a small cluster of students; all of them were grinning and laughing. She felt a momentary tremor of envy run through her, and was startled by how affected she was by the sight. Under different circumstances, she was sure
she
would have been a part of that same group, adding another easy smile to the happy legion, sharing their jokes and conversation.

Seeing her English teacher smile so broadly as the result of what someone else had said to him filled was enough on its own to fill her with instant remorse. She
wanted
to be liked by Professor Donovan, even if she wouldn't admit it out loud to anybody, even herself. So when the man's eyes eventually fell upon her in the crowd, and he shouted her name…

"Bentley!"

… Kira didn't immediately turn from the scene to walk the other way. After a moment's disbelieving pause, she decided to approach them cautiously. Several of the male students' eyes lit up at the sight of her in jean shorts; she had always been a popular student, so the girls looked happy to see her as well. The person whose reaction to her she was most interested in was currently turning himself away and walking around back behind the dunk tank.

"Dude, Kira's going to love this," one of the boys from her dorm said knowingly.

"Love what?" she asked curiously, eyes moving to track Professor Donovan as he ascended the stairs of the tank.

"The Don is the next teacher up to be dunked for charity," one of the female students giggled. "He's promised us all a free throw."

Kira watched as he adjusted himself on the tank's springboard and reached down to roll up the cuffs of his pants. When did he ever get out of his office to have calves that well-muscled?

"Do I get a free throw?" Kira asked. Everyone in the group readily agreed that she did. She stood near the back of the queue as she watched the other students in line before her go through various goofy and dramatized warmups before their ultimate pitches. Five students threw, and five missed handily. When Kira finally stepped up to the chalk line, Donovan was grinning at her fairly confidently, his arms crossed across his chest. She plucked one of the softballs off the top of the bucket of ammunition and gave it a measured toss.

"Late to the party as always, Bentley?" Professor Donovan called to her. He had taken to the part of heckler like a—hopefully English—teacher to water.

"Is this a party?" she asked, keeping her tone of voice carefully neutral. "I thought it was about to be a massacre."

The male students exploded into hoots and hollers around her. Sports and competition of any kind brought out the beast in her, almost more so than the full moon did nowadays.

Almost.

"Let's see you drop me like your grade point average," Professor Donovan returned. The whoops from the peanut gallery immediately became a chorus of agonized moans:
ohhh.
Kira's eyes narrowed into slivers as she honed in on the target. It was tempting to just lob the ball at Donovan's stupid, insultingly gorgeous face, but she was determined to win this round for once. "Let's see you dunk me like—"

Kira reared back and let loose with her ball. It sailed straight and true; she had scarcely heard the metallic
'thunk!'
of it hitting home before Donovan was sent dropping in a thunderous explosion of water. She mobbed almost immediately by her fellow students, who leapt all over her in their excitement and banded together to support her in raising her arm high above her head in triumph. She couldn't help it then—a huge smile bloomed across her face, banishing every lurking shadow from the past few weeks, and she laughed aloud with them.

              Once the furor had died down, she managed to extract herself from the group as they formed plans for the next attraction they wanted to hit up. She moved around the side of the tank to locate her victim.

              Professor Donovan was drenched, standing on a mat and shifting his weight from one bare foot to the other as if he didn't know where to begin to tackle the drying process. Kira alighted by the side of the tank and observed him, half in shadow, a hand raised to guard against the smile tugging helplessly at her lips. The man shook himself all over like a dog, before turning abruptly to find her when she gave vent to a little laugh. The look in his eye invited her to approach; she realized too late what a mistake this was. She hadn't even put one shoe down on the mat before she felt him pulling her in hard against him for a hug.

              "You son of a bitch!" Kira exclaimed before she could censor herself. He had her wrapped tightly in his arms, so tightly that she didn't stand a chance of drawing back from the cold, wet press of his chest. She had no choice but to suffer in agony as the water seeped into the front of her own shirt.
She
might as well have been the one to get dunked for all the good the chalk line was doing her now.

              "You have no idea," he said strangely. She was already rigid against him as she suffered through his payback, but his voice made her go still all the same. They were so close that his words felt like a murmur in her ear, and its proximity sent chills racing down her spine that had nothing to do the transference of water. When he finally extracted himself from her, Kira found herself staring up into a genuinely kind, if a bit roguish, smile.

The smile appeared to collapse somewhat when he got a good look at her. Kira blinked, uncertain about what could have caused the change, until she glanced down at herself. The front of her chest was completely soaked through—the white tank top that she had worn beneath her open flannel shirt was now rendered completely translucent, clinging to the swell of her cleavage and revealing her black-laced pushup bra.

"That was a bad move," Donovan said, his eyes raised to the sky as if prayer could bleach the image from his memory. "Very, very bad."

"It's all right." Kira blushed as she wrapped the flannel across her front and hastily set to buttoning. She wasn't faring much better having to look at him. Her teacher's white V-neck was currently leaving nothing to the imagination: it molded to his pectorals like a second skin and excavated a six-pack that she had no indication had existed before this moment. She felt a flare of momentary desire in her belly, but angrily forced the feeling back down. He was her professor, and she was… hormonal. Possibly more so than any other freshman, considering the silent war currently being waged within her on a cellular level. She was glad when Professor Donovan finally turned away to grab a towel and reclaim his jacket.

"You did that on purpose," she said eventually.

"It was for charity. Believe me, I did not
want
to plunge into freezing cold, bacteria-infested water on purpose," Donovan returned as he pulled his clothes on.

"You wanted to include me," Kira said. The man turned to look at her, and after a moment, her mouth flexed into a tired smile. "When you saw me walking through the crowd alone."

"I meant what I said about your GPA," her teacher responded. It didn't escape her notice that he had avoided confirming her suspicion about his intentions. "You need to get a handle on it, now, before it's too late."

"Yes, professor," she replied. Donovan turned on her then, startling her, and Kira took a step back off the mat. For a moment, she could have sworn his eyes flashed at her, and not just with frustration. She took another step away just to be certain of their distance, but her teacher surprised her by following her. She felt her shoulders connect with the backboard of the dunk tank, and her heart fluttered wildly in her chest as he overshadowed her. It occurred to her that they were hidden from the midway behind the tank. Possibly it occurred to Donovan, too, because he didn't move any nearer to her… but each exhalation of breath seemed to bring his chest closer to pressing once more against her own.

"Don't just pay me lip service, Miss Bentley." Storming gray eyes dropped to her mouth unconsciously at the word. "Be a good student. It's
your
future on the line."

Kira was staring fixedly at his mouth as well. Was he holding back his anger, or was it something else? She could feel tension radiating from him, could sense something barely leashed inside him, but what was its source?

"Why do you care so much about my future?" she whispered harshly. "You're a complete asshole to me. You barely even
know
me."

"I know you better than you think," he replied. "And I care. Let's leave it at that."

Professor Donovan thrust his towel into her chest and detached from her, striding around the side of the dunk tank and disappearing into the crowd. Kira turned to watch him go, feeling confused, and as if she really,
really,
didn't want to leave it at that.

              She had a horrible night. She woke well past one in the morning to the crunching of bones as her body shifted and contorted at disturbing angles beneath her sheets. She had been dreaming about running through beautiful fields of wildland green, dodging between trees, skimming over undisturbed puddles left fresh for her after a long day of rain. The reality of her room, and of the betrayal of her own body, was like a nightmare by contrast.

              She managed to stumble to the adjoining bathroom without knocking over more than a desk lamp. Her roommate was at home for the weekend, thank God. Kira barricaded herself inside the tiled room, moaning and sobbing as she contorted in pain on the floor. She just wanted it to stop.

              In her worst moments, she recalled Professor Donovan's face. She tried to remember what it had looked like when he smiled at her, what it had felt like when he banded her tightly to him, even as a joke. For a brief instant, she hadn't felt so horribly alone. But it was his words to her, his assertion that she was sinking herself and her education, that kept cycling through her thoughts in the darkest hours of the morning.

              And she knew how to put an end to it all tomorrow.

He found her in his office after class.

              "Did you really decide to skip class and come straight to my office?" Donovan asked her incredulously. He had a mug of steaming coffee from the staff room in one hand, and a folio of assignments tucked under his other arm as he entered.

Kira Bentley was standing in front of his desk. She looked like hell. Beautiful hell. Her tawny hair was a tangled mess, and her eyes were red-rimmed, but he wasn't of the impression that she had been crying. Donovan seated himself behind his desk, but the girl remained standing. After studying her critically for a moment longer, he pushed the mug of coffee toward her. "Here. Drink this. You look like you need it more than I do."

"Thank you," she said in a stilted voice. "I don't know if I can."

The overture did succeed in getting her to sit down, even if it didn't succeed in caffeinating her. When he noticed the aroma seemed to be troubling her, Donovan pulled the mug back over to his side of the desk.

"I'll go easy on you today," he said finally. "You can bring me lunch tomorrow, but I want a dessert, and I want it homemade. It's either that, or you help me grade the multiple choice quizzes from today. What do you want to do?"

"I came to tell you that I'm dropping out," Kira said.

The room lapsed into a stunned silence. Donovan was leaning across his desk, staring at her intently, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. At least she didn't have the damn sunglasses on today. Her pale skin looked translucent and fragile, almost as if a thoughtless touch could bruise it. The effect was breathtaking on her, but not in a good way. She looked hopelessly, heartbreakingly ill, and Donovan was starting to feel afraid that he wouldn't be able to save her.

But she had come to him.
Him.
He could tell by her tone of voice that he was the first to be notified of her decision. If she hadn't talked to anyone else at the school or put in the paperwork, then there was still hope.

"Jesus, Bentley, just tell me what it is. Is it drugs?" The girl flinched, but Donovan passed over his first guess quickly. "Did you have a death in the family? Is Dracula entering your room and sucking your veins dry every night?"

"That is the weirdest thing anyone has ever said to me," Kira responded haughtily. "And probably the nerdiest. I can't believe I was actually considering pursuing my degree in English."

"I'm not… wait, what?" Donovan blinked in confusion and removed his glasses. Now the girl was staring wildly all about the room in an attempt not to meet his gaze. She looked utterly miserable, and Donovan realized that she had never intended to tell him that part. "English? Really?"

"Yes, really." She still wouldn't look at him. "I wanted to do what you do. But I've decided that I can't. And it's not because of my family or vampires or anything."

"What I meant by that…" He was struggling. He was trying to open the door to the conversation they needed to be having, but he didn't have the proper key to get in. He had to enter through the side window; vampires it was. "I'm saying you can tell me anything. No matter how crazy it might sound."

"The only reason I'm talking to you right now," Kira said, voice shaking, "is because I wanted you to be the first to know. I don't know why, I just… wanted you to be the first. I know you don't respect me, or even really like, but you… you've done a lot for me." She rose suddenly from her seat. "And I'm sorry that your efforts were wasted."

"They're not wasted." Donovan was out of his chair. "I refuse to let them be wasted. And I refuse to let you leave this room until you tell me why you're about to throw away a perfectly good education."

Kira scoffed at this, and he watched as some of the fire behind her eyes rekindled. "You can't
prevent
me from leaving your office."

"Can't I?" As Kira came around the side of his desk, Donovan moved in front of his door. His shoulders were broad enough to almost fill the frame. While the healthy, athletic Kira Bentley he had observed walking around campus weeks ago might have stood a chance against him, the thin and hungry-looking young woman standing before him wouldn't hold a candle to his strength.

She didn't look forlorn anymore; she looked furious. "Get
out
of my way," she growled, through teeth that suddenly appeared far sharper than before. "I knew it was a mistake to try and tell you anything. You can't hold me in here!"

"You haven't told me anything," Donovan pointed out to her pleasantly. Kira paced away from him, agitated, before returning to him with a sudden vengeance.

"I'll scream. I'll throw that mug of coffee on you," she threatened.

"I'm prepared to bear it," he said nobly.

"I can do worse than that," she promised.

"I'm afraid I don't believe you, Miss—"

Kira, whose rage at being held captive had brought her only inches away from the man, now shed the remaining inches as she raised herself up on her toes and kissed him.

The move stunned Donovan. He remained planted where he was, unable to process what was happening fast enough. He felt a vengeful body pressed against him in cold fury, but her lips… her lips were soft and warm. And her closeness triggered something inside of him.

He snaked an arm around her waist and flipped her over, until Kira Bentley was pinned beneath him against the door. She gasped quietly in surprise, and Donovan took full advantage of the involuntary parting of her lips to take command of a second kiss. He swept his tongue between that natural, maddening purse, and Kira reacted to him instinctively, inviting him in with a sweet moan as she wound her arms around his neck. His hands were on her ribcage, sliding up past her heaving breasts to her shoulders, and he felt her shudder beneath him. His mouth roved against hers, forcing her to open to him, again and again, willing her to take everything she had asked for before he pulled away suddenly with a gasp.

"I know what you are." No more pretenses. She was gazing up at him, stricken, her beautiful face a map of every agony Donovan had ever experienced and was currently experiencing now, with this forbidden girl in his arms. He had to release her from her secret before it was too late. He had to release them both.

"You've changed these past two weeks. You're sick, and you're tearing yourself apart inside. You think you're alone, but you aren't.

"Kira, you're a werewolf."