Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Harkham's Choice Chapter 1
Afterword
More Works
Coming Soon
Author Bio
HARKHAM’S CASE
Chanse Lowell
Copyright © August 2014 by Chanse Lowell
This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the author.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with others, purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and you did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
CONTENT WARNING — This story contains scenes of an explicit, erotic nature and is intended for adults, 18+. Though the main characters are seniors in high school, they are of legal age.
Cover illustration by Mayhem Cover Creations © 2014
Acknowledgments
Edited by: Marti Lynch
Prereaders: Angela Bohr, Peggy Dewachter, Lisa Hoeppner, Connie Lema, Tricia Lockwood-Smith, Tanya Manning, Andi Roane-Wiley
Chapter 1
“I’m telling you—it’s simple addition. Watch and I’ll teach you something,” Kendra said, releasing the top two buttons on her already very tight, straining tee shirt.
“That’s not addition. It’s subtraction.” Mari refused to look at her when this girl was being so childish.
“No, it’s addition. Because two”—Kendra played with the top edges of her shirt she now made look like lapels of sorts—“plus two, equals four.” She eyed four jocks heading her way and licked her index and middle finger on her left hand.
“It’s called addiction—not addition. They’re not here to find out about math.” Mari shook her head. “And you passed Trig last year, how?”
“Because I know higher authorities, and they’re all about addition, too.” Kendra undid one more button with the flick of her moist fingertips, smirking at the guys almost at her desk.
Mari scooted as far away as she could. “Good Lord, it’s only the second week of school, and already I’m nauseated by you,” she said under breath.
Kendra took no notice. She was too busy flirting and raising her voice about three fake octaves higher.
“C’mon, baby, don’t do this to me. You know I tried calling you last night, but you didn’t answer,” the tallest curly-haired jock said.
Kendra pretended to frown. “I have no proof. My caller ID was off last night. My dad was mad at me.”
“Get a cell phone,” one of the other jocks said.
“Or better yet—get a room,” Mari mumbled and turned away.
Right as she looked at the doorway, some guy walked in she’d never seen before—and he looked directly at her like he knew her. And not only that—he looked at her like he knew her so intimately, he could remember her taste from across the room.
A few of the girls quietly gawked at him, and one of them even gasped.
Mari blinked and glanced down at the floor, the back of her neck breaking out in goose bumps.
God, her hands were clutching her knees. Why the hell was she reacting this way? It wasn’t like there weren’t hot guys roaming this school daily—many of them perverts who looked at her in a similar way—but this guy?
She cast him another quick glance, and he was still staring straight at her—with that same ravenous look.
Fuck! It was scorching, the way his eyes roamed over her face.
“Who’s that? Do you know him? He looks like he knows you,” Kendra asked, leaning over Mari’s desk toward the new guy standing at the classroom door.
“Never seen him before in my life, but it looks like he’s taken.” Mari pointed at the girl standing directly behind the said new hottie. This chick was holding his hand, but it was hard to see unless someone was really checking him out—which Mari was. As covertly as possible. “You might as well get over him now.” She shoved her homework away. Kendra could copy off somebody else. Mari was sick of being used this way. “Besides, all your fan club here aren’t going to allow a new guy to move in on you.” She jerked her head to the big burly guys all leaving to take their seats now, since the teacher was telling everyone to be quiet and sit down.
Kendra moved back to her seat two rows down, but her eyes remained on that student.
Just watching her ogle the new boy made Mari exhale with an exhausted sound as she stretched her neck from side to side.
The short, black-haired girl holding the new guy’s hand was whispering something into his ear with urgency, and he looked furious. His hand tightened on hers as she tried to propel him forward. He buckled his legs and a few veins popped out on his forearms.
“Stop it,” he hissed at her.
It was kind of fun to watch since she was a tiny, dark version of a Keebler Elf, and he was an auburn-haired version of the Jolly Green Giant. From Mari’s vantage point at the top of the row, she could see the petite girl sweating with exertion, but it seemed to be more from mental exhaustion rather than physical, though that looked rough too. He wasn’t a mammoth guy really, just tall, but definitely fit like he was a runner or something.
“No. I can’t. I won’t,” he said, craning his head over his shoulder toward the pushy runt.
“You can. I have every faith in you. We’ve talked about this for weeks.” The dark-haired girl blew out with a puff of her cheeks. “Now, I’m going to bring you to your seat, and you’re going to sit down and behave.”
He shook his head and looked about ready to burst into tears.
Out of nowhere, the students near the middle of the aisle scooted away from him as he was cajoled into moving up the middle of the row in the stadium-seating type of classroom.
“It’s not right. I can’t do something this scary. You said it would be different—you said it would be smaller,” the boy whined, still trying to dig his heels in and not move another inch.
Was he afraid of heights or something? Or was it how many students were in here? Maybe he was shy?
Mari studied him. He had to be on some sort of medication if he had some severe phobia, right?
Her heart squeezed at the thought of this teenaged boy having to take anxiety medicine just to go to high school. The poor guy.
Another student shuffled out of his way, looking at the new kid like he had the bubonic plague.
But not Mari. She leaned toward him. “He can sit here,” she said without thinking, pointing at the vacant seat next to her as she perched on her own from the top level.
Mari pulled out the empty chair, and the struggling woman pointed to their right. “See? That’s your seat right there. I bet you’ll be able to see great from that spot since you’re on the end of the row.”
<
br /> Mari’s teeth ground together when she realized that the way the woman talked to him was not like a girlfriend would—but more like an authority figure.
Who did she think she was? The authority on stressed-out teenaged boys?
“I can’t do this without you,” he protested a little louder, gripping onto his girlfriend’s wrists.
“You can too. It’s only a forty-minute class.” His girl gave him a condescending look, her jaw tightening.
“Forty-two,” he corrected her.
“Okay, forty-two. And I’ll run right over here as soon as I’m done.” She lowered her head, staring in his eyes with a forceful tone in her voice.
He swallowed, but in no way looked prepared to handle what was tantamount to the lion’s den to him. Clearly, he was scared shitless.
Not that Mari blamed him. This class was nothing but shit to her. Too easy.
Maybe he was bumped up from a lower-level math class, and now that it was real, he was having a change of heart? And maybe this girl was just a friend of his with a kind soul and a stern voice.
Maybe Mari was far too interested in the dynamics between these two people beside her, and maybe she should mind her own goddamned business.
But instead, she watched them intently, poring over every detail and filing it away in her memory in case she needed any of it later.
His brows scrunched together and his bottom lip trembled. “But who will hold my hand? I need it!” He clung to the dark-haired girl and kept his eyes on her as she managed to maneuver him into the seat.
It was crazy how she was able to move him around with relative ease considering he was at least a full head taller than her.
She leaned over, kissed his cheek then patted it with her free hand.
“Hold your own hands.” She smiled, and it was so tender and filled with affection that Mari felt slightly uncomfortable witnessing it. “They’re already nice and warm. It’ll work. Trust me.” She nodded.
“How will I take notes then?” he asked as he wobbled in his chair.
Was he going to grab for her and make a bigger scene?
Mari’s spine stiffened, and she moved her feet into a better position in case she needed to scramble out of their way.
The woman pulled out her iPhone and set it at the outer corner of the table. “I’ll record the lecture for you. Then you can transcribe the notes later. It’ll give us something fun to do later together.”
Together. Shit. They really were an item.
Why did that matter to Mari so much? She didn’t even know the dude’s name. And even if she did, would it honestly matter?
Nope. Not at all.
She leaned a little closer to him to get a whiff.
Jesus, he smelled insanely good. Not a ton of cologne like most high school boys wore, but he smelled clean, crisp. Almost like the creosote bushes after a rain storm in the desert.
She slipped her hand out of his, but he snatched it right back again. His sudden movement caused a waft to pass over in Mari’s direction. Oh, how she loved that intoxicating smell.
“I don’t like this classroom. It smells like too many numbers.” He shivered.
Mari wrinkled her nose. How odd was it that she had just leaned in to get a bigger whiff of him, and here he was now, talking about smells. And what did that mean—too many numbers? Were they speaking in some kind of code?
Mari couldn’t help edging toward them even more. The sound of his voice was hypnotic, even when he was complaining and was very edgy about pretty much everything.
“That’s the point. The numbers like you, and they’ll keep you happy.” Dark-haired girl stepped back and wiggled her hand free again. “I’m going now, but I’ll be back soon. See how high you can count while I’m gone. Impress me. I dare ya.” She grinned.
“It’s gonna be really high,” he said, and there was a small hint of amusement in his tone.
“I can’t wait to hear what it is when I get back.” She gave him a thumbs-up and a really cheesy wink.
He giggled. He actually let out a very masculine sounding giggle. Was that normal? Were men allowed to do that and not look mortified with themselves afterward?
He didn’t seem to care at all.
Mari tried to keep a blank expression and not let him see she was still checking him out and very impressed with him for some dopey reason.
“Samara?” he called after his retreating girlfriend.
“Yeah?” She stopped and turned to him.
“I’ll miss you.” He folded his hands in his lap.
“I’ll miss you, too,” she said, then almost ran out the door.
Was she embarrassed? Was it because of his shameless giggle? How absurd. Who cared? If he didn’t, then nobody else should. Especially not her if she truly cared about him.
Mari’s back heated as she thought about how that girl should’ve been more understanding with him and even a little more patient.
Scratch, scratch, scratch . . .
The sounds of the teacher writing the homework on the board was a good distraction since her mind kept circling around the guy next to her no matter how much she tried to think about other things.
It was hard to ignore him when each time she took a breath, his amazing smell would waft toward her.
Was he fanning his scent her way and timing it with each inhale she took?
She blinked, held her breath and turned her attention back to the front of the classroom. This guy meant nothing to her. She didn’t know him, and he’d be nothing more than a classmate she barely spoke to all year long.
The teacher cleared his throat, then the lecture began—thank God, because the guy next to her seemed to be somehow closer to her. His arm was a few inches from hers. She could feel his body heat radiating off him.
For some reason, the thought of him sweating sounded more appealing than she wanted to admit.
“Ahhh,” the boy said and relaxed into his chair a little bit. “Yeah.” He nodded. “This is better.” His chair moved closer to hers.
And that’s when things started to get really interesting.
She wanted to turn her head and scowl at him—tell him to fuck off, but then he sounded so delighted to be near her.
Why would he feel that way?
Instead of tensing up, she kind of went lax, too.
“Better. Much better,” he said with a husky sound to his voice.
Well, great. Just perfect. Now he was making her eyelids go heavy on her just by glancing over at him and seeing nothing more than a very satisfied-looking teenager. Once more, he was staring at her unabashedly.
She slowly moved her gaze over his chest. Next she traced her eyes over every muscle twitch in his hands. Damn, he had strong, gorgeous-looking hands. She always was drawn to a guy with nice, capable hands. The slight shape of the veins that crept up his forearms was entrancing, too. So far, there was little she could find wrong with him, other than the fact he liked to zero in on her face quite a bit without any shame whatsoever.
She set her hands on the desk and tapped out a quiet, nervous beat.
Was time slowing on purpose, just to torture her?
She blew out as silently as she could.
He turned away from her, but still sat very close.
So what? Some people didn’t have any iota of what personal space meant. Maybe he was one of those types. As long as he kept smelling this good, she would be able to deal with it all year long, no problem.
“Man,” he huffed to himself a moment later, staring at the teacher with a bored, yet slightly annoyed look on his face.
What was bothering this unusual boy now? Was he upset time was crawling by as well?
She scanned the desk, trying to figure out what was making him sound this way and breathe louder.
Ah, the phone his snot of a girlfriend left behind wasn’t recording. His hands were shaking as he held them clasped in his lap.
Boy, he sure did swing from one end of the mood spectrum to the other
in record time. One minute he was saying everything was better and looking all cozy and pleased—the next, he acted like he was dying of brain-numbing boredom and lack of patience.
She leaned forward, moved up and out of her seat to set it right for him, doing her best to ignore the purple sparkles on the phone case that was entirely too uppity and girlie.
No guy would be caught dead with a phone like this—ever.
Should she remove the case for him? Would that set him more at ease?
She considered asking, but instead just went for it. He was most likely the type that didn’t ask for help. Too macho for that. She reached for the phone.
“What are you doing?” the new guy barked.
“I’m pressing record for you so you’ll have your notes and removing this case so it won’t blind you. This way you don’t have to let go of your hands, and you won’t have to admit you were near a phone that belongs in an obnoxious, overpriced nightclub where the girls wear neon pink thongs to match their acrylic nails,” she explained.
He didn’t make it easy as she leaned over him. In fact, her right breast brushed up against his arm twice as she maneuvered her body into awkward angles to get around him.
She finally got the iPhone set up and when she sat back down, he was staring straight at her with a blank expression.
His sapphire blue eyes were alarming with how much they penetrated straight into her. No one in her entire life had ever studied her face for as long as this boy had.
Was he angry at her for touching his Samara’s stuff? Was that what this was all about?
“Look I’m sorry, but I . . .” Forget it. He wasn’t responding, so they were probably beyond friendship since she’d stepped over his invisible line of what was okay with him, even though her personal space was nothing to him.
When she gazed back, the brightest, purest blue eyes startled her even more. He was smiling, and it lit up his entire face. Those eyes were now soft and grateful—tender, somehow.
“I like you,” he whispered, but it was a loud, scratchy whisper Mari was sure the whole class heard, including the teacher. “You’re nice to sit by. This is a good spot. You were smart to pick it.”
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