Page 33 of Pink Ink

I’ve caught myself staring at her one too many times during class, and walking through campus alone. And when I crept away into my studio, staring at a blank canvas, she came to the forefront of my mind.

Our breaths plume into the night air, filling the space between us, and I have the urge to move closer to feel her against my skin.

Nothing is stopping me from turning around and pretending our eyes never locked, that she never drew me in. But I can’t bring myself to move. It’s unsettling enough that she’s visiting crime scenes by herself. Seeing her walk around in the middle of the night has the black part of my soul rearing its head.

The only reason I’m so concerned is because she’s my student who shows the most promise. Yes, that’s it. If something happens to her, there’ll be a plethora of paperwork and investigations I’d rather not be part of.

People will talk if anyone sees us out here. There’s no telling what would happen to us if word were to go back to my parentsorthe faculty about this midnight meeting. Ineedto leave. Despite that, I stay exactly where I am, hands pressed to my sides so I don’t do something idiotic like try to touch her.

The silence between us grows, and it sours as I take in the rest of her. Reyna lacks self-preservation of any form if she thinks it’s a good idea to wear a jacket that thin when it’s this cold.

She’s doing a terrible job of hiding the fact that she’s shivering. My first thought is to offer her my coat and get her into my office. My second is,again, it’s none of my bloody business what she does.

I’m both pleased and displeased that she’s wearing a skirt that falls past her knees, instead of the minis that drive me insane.

Shedrives me insane.

“You shouldn’t be walking around alone after dark, Miss Sinaga. You never know when a killer might be on the loose.”

“I don’t fit his MO.”

Her eyes widen with her slipped confession. I wipe the grin off my face.

God, she’s infuriating.

She clears her throat, yanks her satchel forward, and frantically unclips the front pockets to grab a can of mace and a switchblade. A KitKat, a bag of Cheetos, and an EpiPen hit the ground in the process, and she scrambles to put them back in her bag.

My brows flatten. Why the bloody hell does she have an EpiPen?

Reyna holds out her weapons and tips her chin up. “I have protection.”

How cute. She’s trying to salvage her mistake.

That doesn’t make her any less of a liability to me and to herself.

“Those aren’t permitted on campus—or in this state.” In fact, she seems to be breaking as many laws as I am. Although at a different scale. But sometimes, it’s about quantity and not quality. I can be a numbers guy.

“Neither of those two things in your hand will offer any sort of protection unless someone is willing to give you five seconds’ head start to take them out of your bag.” I take a step forward, and those plump lips of hers part. The temptation to reach out to see what they’d feel like between my teeth is overwhelming.

She’s walking around. At night. Underdressed. Alone. Visiting murder scenes and who knows what else. With no real defense.

It’s not my business.

Not. My. Business.

“I do hope you don’t intend to use those for anything outside of your nighttime strolls.”

I just can’t help myself, can I? Talking with her is too enjoyable.

Reyna pales beneath the glow of the lampposts. I can see the six words pinging around in her head:He knows about the crime scenes.

Oh, darling, I know.

“No.” She shakes her head quickly. “Not at all. Just for safety. At night.”

Talented, stunning, occasionally quick-witted, and the newest pain in my ass.

I’ve never met such a horrific liar. It’s rather beguiling.