by Rebecca Foxx
“All right then, we can meet for a half hour in the evenings—with my schedule, Alisha, that’s about the only time I have available,” he relented, adding as he waved a teasing finger straight in her direction, “You sure know how to hit a man where it hurts, you crafty woman.”
Alisha smiled.
“Oh Professor,” she purred, adding with the flirty toss of her sleek ebony hair, “You have no idea.”
Chapter two
She brought out the animal in him.
And, given the circumstances, that was not necessarily a good thing.
From the first moment that Alisha Stewart had stepped through the regal brass handled doors that fronted his classroom at Princeton University, she had ensnared his attention and captivated his mind; and, he couldn’t help but notice, certain other body parts that had fallen out of use in the past few months.
Her wisdom and intelligence, as conveyed through her keen observations about any and all facets of archaeology. Her brilliant sense of humor and infectious laugh. Her wide dark eyes, lovely hair, and voluptuous rubenesque body.
Everything about this vibrant, strong willed young woman combined to drive him to the point of distraction; making it difficult for him to concentrate in class.
Judging by Alisha’s recent test scores, Damian suspected that she too felt bothered and distracted by the evident attraction that seemed to flare hot between them.
“If only we had met in another time and place,” he mused now, steering his sharp polished red Corvette throughout the streets of Princeton, University. “As it stands, though, I really shouldn’t be alone with this tempting, irresistible woman for any amount of time, especially at night. Why, one might ask? Well for one thing, she’s a student. For another thing, I’m a werewolf.”
Indeed, Damian mused as he turned down the long tree lined street that lead to his fashionable upscale home, poets and songwriters often claimed that love could change a person.
And sure enough, when the beautiful young teacher Moana Mari bit him one night in a show of passion, she changed his life forever; passing onto him the dreaded sickness of the moon, which he had read about only in legends culled from ancient civilizations.
Although Moana had left him and abandoned her teaching post at Princeton University, she had left behind an afflicted lover whose life remained forever transformed by the malice of her attack; rendering him unable to enjoy the night, enjoy his youth—to savor his very existence.
While remaining for all intents and purposes a competent instructor and top notch teaching professional during the day, Damian now lingered fearful behind locked doors with the coming of night; closing his draperies to shield him from the moon that triggered the madness within him.
Yet despite his best efforts the madness always arrived in grand fashion with the coming of the full moon; its powerful rays transforming him into a creature of the night.
“How can I stop this atrocity from consuming my body and being?” he asked aloud, tone wracked with agony as he continued, “How can I stop the growth of the fur and fangs that cover my body, morphing me into a monster? How I can stop growling and barking like a common dog, pawing the ground and running wild like an uncivilized creature of the wilderness?”
His only saving grace, he figured, lie in the fact that he had never frightened or harmed anyone in his loathsome transformed state.
“I only hope that this trend continues,” he mused now, adding with a concerned thought in Alisha’s direction, “For my sake—and, God help me, for hers.”
Chapter three
The next evening found Alisha standing outside the secluded office of Professor Damian Wolf; beaming in quiet amusement at her choice of apparel for what was supposed to be a highly professional tutoring session.
“Oh yeah. When I sit down for an intensive study session back in the dorm room, I always pull out the chocolate that a girl naturally needs to help her think, sharpen my pencils, slip on my oh so comfy pink slippers, and slip into a fashionable pink silk kaftan that shows off my womanly curves to best effect,” she paused here, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “Oh, who am I trying to kid? I am fully and officially hot for teacher.”
And when she stepped into the spacious, clean lined office that distinguished Damian Wolf’s work space, she was once again reminded of all the reasons behind her intense infatuation.
Sitting tall and strong behind a polished cherry wood desk that boasted a number of unique and seemingly disparate decorations—anything from examples of ancient pottery, both carved and clay, to more common office supplies that included folders and pencil holders—Damian Wolf wore a smart suit of ebony silk that came complete with an elegant tie and a satiny white shirt; its sleek fabrics accentuating every plane of his firm muscular form.
“He looks as though he’s dressed for a date,” Alisha mused in silence, adding as she advanced into the room, “Probably wishful thinking on my part—but on a general basis, the dude does not dress up this slick for a typical day in class.”
Of course, with Damian’s unique brand of golden beauty, the man could shine in a barley sack; and shine he did as he raised his head to grace her with a devastating smile.
“Good evening, Alisha,” he intoned, adding as he gestured toward a lone cushioned seat on the opposite side of the desk, “Please, do have a seat.”
Within moments Alisha found herself sitting frozen in her chair, quite unable to move or even speak as she lost herself in the essence and aura that defined Damian Wolf.
His deep voice soothed her senses as he told her tales of ancient legends; his azure gaze pure and penetrating as it ensnared her own.
As she heard and absorbed his personalized lecture about the artifacts of ancient Egyptian culture, she took particular notice of the antiquities that he had on hand to represent and symbolize this place and time—everything from a Roman silver imperial coin to an exquisite greenstone heart scarab.
“You have some beautiful bling here,” she praised, running her fingers slow and reverent over the display that formed a far corner of her teacher’s desk.
Opening a long narrow drawer that marked the front of this desk, Damian withdrew what had to be the most exquisite piece in his collection of rare Egyptian artifacts: a beaded golden necklace that claimed a gleaming azure jade as its shiny, stunning centerpiece.
Standing from his desk and circling its borders with a single smooth flourish, her teacher approached her with smooth, sleek steps reminiscent of an animal; coming to a full stop behind her chair as he told her, “I bought this necklace at an auction for—well, I’d rather not say just how much. You’d surely think me mad. Would you care to try it on for size?”
Fighting the wave of unbidden arousal inspired by his nearness, one that coursed her being from head to toe, Alisha nodded wordless in response to his soft spoken offer.
She took in her breath as Damian grew closer still, the strands of his flowing golden hair tickling her ebony neck as his strong masculine hands draped the necklace with ease over her buxom chest; its sublime golden hue illuminating her skin as the edge of his agile fingertips graced her sensitive skin.
“Ah, the necklace suits you perfectly,” he whispered, that soft deep voice so close to her ear as his fingers lingered soft at her nape. “You liken Cleopatra herself, in all her eternal glory.”
Letting loose with a nervous laugh in response to this lavish praise, Alisha shook her head brisk and hard in response to these lofty words.
“Maybe if Cleopatra worked at a coffee shop, and never could manage to steer clear of the fudge brownies and frosted red velvet cupcakes that she secures each evening with the aid of her handy dandy employee discount,” she countered.
She gasped outright as her professor dropped his sturdy hands to the arms of her swiveling chair, turning her sharp and quick in his direction as their gazes clashed once again.
“Don’t even dream of putting yourself down, Alisha,” he said her name like the sweetest
poetry, “Some gents happen to favor women with curves.”
Alisha said nothing for a moment, her heart pounding as she finally admired up close the perfection of Damian’s sculpted face; a rich and beautiful study in chiseled cheekbones, full moist lips, and a carved cleft chin—and of course those rich azure eyes that now regarded her with a long intense stare.
“Yeah,” she said finally, adding as she surged forward to erase all distance between them, “And some ladies happen to favor their too hot to be believed archaeology professors.”
With these words Alisha seized Damian’s full soft lips in a passionate kiss; her cherry red mouth massaging his as the couple leaned with feverish furor into their passion—their mouths smacking together with reckless abandon as their tongues entangled between them.
Leaning into his kiss, Alisha wrapped her arms around his muscular shoulders as their tongues engaged in a dance of seduction; a decadent tango that brought her dreams to life as their kiss deepened and intensified.
Damian let loose with a heated growl that further enhanced her arousal; a low deep sound that heightened her senses as her heart pounded with the heat of desire.
Then he angled his head over hers to spark true friction between them; their lips moving together in rhythmic strokes as his long wet tongue lapped the roof of her mouth.
Their public surroundings dissolved around them as Alisha purred against Damian’s lips; all worries and tensions erased from her mind as she lost herself in the realm of pure ethereal fantasy.
The feeling was fleeting.
The woman groaned frustrated moments later as Damian broke their kiss; surging away from her as he covered his face with his hands.
Alisha frowned as she heard a loud, rough howl release itself from Damian’s throat; ringing forth in the atmosphere around them as he continued to conceal his face with newly trembling fingers.
“Damian?” she asked him, voice laced with keen concern. “Are you all right?”
A full moment passed before Damian peeled his hands from his face; revealing once again the peerless visage that seemed to so entrance her.
Missing, however, was the gentle smile that also tugged at her heart; replaced as it was by a stone faced expression that put her immediately on guard.
“We can’t,” he told her simply, offering no further explanation as he turned away from her. “Good evening, Ms. Stewart.”
Alisha frowned.
“Well why can’t we?” she asked him, adding with a confused shrug, “I mean, I could understand your trepidation if you were a high school teacher, or even if I was an impressionable 18-year-old college freshman. I would, in fact, greatly admire your restraint in that case.” She paused here, adding as she lifted her full chin to proud effect, “The fact is, though, that I’m a woman, more than capable and qualified of giving you my consent.”
With these words she waggled her eyebrows to teasing effect.
“And believe you me, Damian,” she told her professor, “I am more than ready to give you some consent. And how.”
Damian guffawed outright.
“Believe me, Alisha, I am more than aware of the fact that you are a grown woman—and a smart, beautiful and charming one at that,” he assured her, adding with a sigh, “I still don’t feel that it’s a good idea for a professor to get involved with a student. It is simply not professional.”
Alisha rolled her eyes.
“I see,” she snapped, adding as she folded her arms before her, “Oddly enough, though, your code of conduct did not stand in your way when you had an open affair with a fellow professor—the lovely Ms. Moana Mari. True this?”
Damian bit his lip.
“True,” he allowed in a whisper soft tone, “And I swear I detest that woman right now, for it is because of her that I have to say no to you.”
Alisha pursed her lips.
“And why is that?” she asked him, tone doubtful and noncommittal. “Were the two of you punished or in some way disciplined for your affair?”
Damian looked at her, seeming to gauge with hooded eyes just how much he could tell her about this obviously complicated situation.
“Not exactly,” he said finally, adding after a long pause, “I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that—I fear, in fact, that it’s the most complicated situation I’ve ever faced in my life.”
Alisha cocked her head.
“Well what happened between you two?” she pressed, adding with a shrug, “What happened that was so terrible, so insurmountable, that it prevents you from getting involved with another woman at the university?”
Damian shook his head.
“I’m so sorry, dear Alisha,” he told her, voice barely above a whisper. “I simply can’t tell you. It’s…it’s simply too complicated.”
He cringed as a visibly frustrated Alisha rose from her chair; planting her hands firm on her full hips as she seared him with an accusing glare.
“Au contraire, Professor. I do not believe that this situation is very complicated at all,” she countered, tone low and cool. “Miss Moana was skinny and blonde—oh, and lest we forget, white. Therefore she was worth the risk of the affair. I, on the other hand….”
Damian shook his head.
“No, Alisha,” he insisted, adding as he pinned her with an imploring look, “Good God, no. Please don’t believe that—I beg of you….”
He fell silent moments later, watching helpless as a fuming Alisha turned and walked away.
Chapter four
He found divine solace in the light of the moon.
Following his ill-fated tutoring session with his favorite student—one who he was pretty sure would never speak to him again, at least outside of class—a troubled Damian took leave of his office and escaped to a nearby copse of woods; finding comfort in the light of the very same moon that had doomed him to a life lived alone.
Stripping himself of the confining business suit that concealed his animal nature, Damian rushed headfirst into the emerald leaved woods that served as both his shelter and his place of escape.
Standing naked in the nurturing rays of the moon above him, he pitched his head back and surrendered finally to the power of this luminous beacon—letting loose with a mighty howl as the change seized hold of him.
He gasped outright as thick tufts of hair erupted at all points and places across the surface of his skin; soon swallowing his being in a morbid second skin that at once soothed and repulsed him.
Falling forward onto all fours with a low, sharp growl, he felt also the lengthening and sharpening of his teeth; the birth of the fangs that also distinguished his ulterior identity.
Suddenly Damian was one with the wilderness; basking, not only in the luminous glow of the moon and the stars above him, but in the sweet vision of scarlet red roses and lavender water lilies that lined the ground below him—as well as the tall towering oak and hibiscus trees that grew tall above.
Normally the radiant beauty of his lush natural surroundings, along with the sonorous song of crickets and nightingales overhead, lent him a small measure of solace in this, his natural state.
Tonight, however, nothing could comfort him in the wake of the once promising evening that had quickly turned to disaster; and not even the loveliest rose could possibly rival the beauty of Alisha.
So with that thought in mind he reached forward to bite into the stem of an ebullient, dew glistened scarlet red rose; ripping the flower from its place in the soil and racing with frenzied steps from the copse.
“There has to be a way,” he pondered, letting loose with an anguished howl as he ran from the forest—and, he couldn’t help but muse, from himself. “There will be a way.”
Chapter five
“No way!”
Summoned from an evening of deep, dream filled sleep by the annoying buzz of her pearl pink alarm clock, Alisha bolted upright as she pondered the possibility of attending her morning class; one set to be taught by the instructor that had come to earn the oh so
affectionate nickname of Professor Demon Seed. Esquire.
Indeed, she had no earthly desire to see or speak to Damian Wolf. And while she was never one to skip class, she just couldn’t imagine herself coming face to face with that infuriating man; unless, of course, she came armed with a cream pie that she could throw right square in his face.
Still, she reasoned as she pulled herself out of the basic but comfortable bed that formed the centerpiece of her modest studio apartment, she had to attend this class if she had any earthly hope of passing it; particularly now that she had no intention of seeking private tutoring sessions with Prof. Wolf—that is, of course, Prof. Demon Seed.
“Not to mention the fact that I don’t want him to know just how much he gets to me. And I certainly do not want it to appear that I’m hiding from him,” she reasoned, jumping into the shower that formed a far corner of her small, clean tiled bathroom.