Chapter One
Shiloh
Autumn
I checked to make sure my button-up hadn't untucked at the waist. I wanted to look my best for Professor Crawford. This was a moment my entire life had gone into making. No more second-guessing or putting it off. Finally, I was going to meet the man, the legend, the professor.
I stood straight, not allowing my back to rest against the wall behind me as I stood outside Professor Crawford's lecture hall. I could hear his warm, rich voice—at least, I assumed that was him talking—through the closed doors as he addressed his class, unlocking the mysteries contained within the human shifter mind.
All research arrows in the field of Animal Psychology pointed to Professor Crawford. He'd singlehandedly made Animal Psychology—the study of the relationship between our shifter counterparts and human sides—what it was today, and taking a class from him would unlock every door going forward in my studies.
I'd learned when first registering for university that Professor Crawford didn't accept first or second-year university students. Considering I was seventeen, had entered college a year early, and was always the youngest person in every class, I knew getting accepted into Abnormal Shifter Behavior was going to take some convincing. But if I could get a yes from the man himself, then who could tell me no?
That the man was here, at Morningwood University, was a miracle in itself. Professor Crawford was an enigma even to the shifter world. He was a lone wolf—or snake, as the case was. A puff adder shifter to be exact, which only added to his mystery. Puff adder shifters were rare among the shifter world and had an uncanny ability that allowed them to give off little to no scent. Professor Crawford had gone to school entirely in the normie educational system. He never did video interviews or public lectures—outside of his university classes—and though I'd never seen him speak, I'd read every article and research paper he'd ever appeared in.
Shuffling sounds met me from inside the room. The class must have just ended. I checked my outfit once more, smoothing my palms down over my shirt front. My plan was to impress Professor Crawford with my knowledge of his work already, but I'd also tried to look nice, so he would know I wasn't a slob. I didn't just hope to get into his class. A part of me hoped he'd take me under his wing. I imagined Professor Crawford as a kind, grandfatherly type. He'd devoted his entire life to the study of the shifter mind.
The door opened, and I perked up. As the first of his students began funneling out, intimidation crept over my shoulders and hung there. They looked like grad students, every one of them. I recognized a few of them as TAs from my other psych classes.
I knew that Professor Crawford didn't accept first or second year students, but he had to accept me. His field was the only thing I wanted to study. It had taken me months of classes to work up the courage to stand where I was, but now that I was there, nothing would stop me.
I sidestepped a few feet to the right so that I was front and center to the people streaming from the lecture hall. A few spotted me with curious expressions, but most went on with their day, my presence not even a blip on their radar. That was how I preferred things normally, but today, I needed to be noticed.
The flow of students grew denser before thinning out. Then I saw him. It had to be him. My heart stopped beating. Warm, olive-colored skin. He carried a leather messenger bag over his shoulder with a stainless steel travel mug in that same hand. The man stood a bit above the others with an athletic, trim build, wearing a tan tweed suit that was only a few shades lighter than his wavy, sandy-colored hair. His face was down, looking at his feet as he walked out while engaged in conversation with one of his students. I inhaled, forgetting to exhale as I waited for his face to rise and our eyes to meet. He looked up, and I gasped silently. He wasn't just handsome and so much younger than I thought. He was stunningly gorgeous. His eyes were a bright silver, unlike any eye color I'd seen. They flashed with almost a metallic gleam, like aluminum foil wrapped in fog.
I offered a tentative, shy smile.
His gaze slid over me like I wasn't even there, and the two of them turned left down the hallway.
Feelings of shame and failure flooded my insides. While I'd been having an intense emotional reaction to seeing this man for the first time, he acted like he hadn't even seen me. I wanted to hide or, at the least, go home and forget I'd ever concocted this stupid plan in the first place. It was a good thing I hadn't told anyone of my plan. Now they wouldn't know of my failure.
But, as embarrassment attempted to pull me under, something else flared within me. Determination. My life hadn't been the hardest, but it hadn't been easy either. My mom had an important, time-consuming job in Morningwood. As a medical examiner, she was needed often and at all hours. My dad had died long ago, and my older brother had spent most of my younger years being the town's bad boy. Still, I'd gone to school, excelled to the point of graduating early, and became one of the youngest full-time Morningwood University students.
I hadn't done that by shying away from a challenge.
The two had passed me by then, but not by very many steps. I hurried to catch up. My plan was to slide in beside the other student and just pretend I had been there the whole time. Except, before I could reach the pair, the student split off, waving to Professor Crawford as she did. I couldn't pretend to have been walking beside them the whole time, so I improvised, hurrying forward to block Professor Crawford's path.
I smiled boldly, the smile faltering the very next moment when Professor Crawford continued forward. From my angle, I hadn't been able to see the left side of his body or his left hand. That hadn't seemed important until right then, when I noticed the slim white cane in his hand. The end of the cane had a rounded metal tip that set against the floor as he walked. Or, as the case was at the moment, as he collided into me. Because he was blind and couldn't see me.
His mouth opened in surprise, and his cane flew out, whacking me in the knee before finding purchase again. The professor managed to right himself without falling, but his coffee mug went flying. The lid popped off when it hit the ground, and the liquid inside exploded up, showering us both with black coffee.
"I'm so sorry!" I dropped to his feet, scooping up the mug. The lid had come to a stop about a half foot behind him, and without thinking, I reached between his legs to snag it.
"Please stand," the professor said, his voice sharp but still rich and buttery.
"I didn't—I'm sorry. You're blind. I didn't know—"
"May I have my mug back please?" Professor Crawford asked.
I was too mesmerized by the hypnotic movement of his mouth to recognize the words he'd spoken. I wondered what that mouth would feel like pressed against my skin and gasped at my body's immediate response to that mental image. Oh crap. Puff adders didn't give off many scents. Professor Crawford was no different. I could see him, but if I closed my eyes and sniffed, it was like he wasn't there. Did that mean he couldn't smell the pheromones coming off me? I needed to get control over the things I thought. That was when I remembered he'd asked me a question. I licked my lips. "Uh, what did you ask?"
Professor Crawford sighed, and even that disapproving noise had my private places clenching. I'd been excited to meet the man who had first sparked my interest in Animal Psychology but had been unprepared for how my body felt around him. There wasn't a thing about him that was grandfatherly. He was older, and close up, I could see some silver hairs sprouting along his temples. But he wasn't old, at least not in a way that wasn't appealing. "My mug, please."