Chapter 174: He Has a Really Big Fish Tank*

The royal car stopped at the bottom of the hill below Dormitory G.

Killian didn’t get out. He kept his eyes on the back of the Jackal’s head.

"Thank you," Blair said. "Goodnight."

He said nothing. She got out, and the car slid away up the road toward the Royal Faction House.

She was halfway to the path when headlights came on behind her.

A dark car sat under the trees across the road. Its engine ticked softly.

The passenger window rolled down.

"Get in."

She got in. ℯℯ𝘭.

"How did you get here before us?"

He didn’t answer. He drove past Dormitory G, around the back of the library and into the faculty lot behind the East Wing. He parked in the far corner, where the lamp had burned out, and turned off the engine.

Then he sat with both hands on the wheel. "Where did he sit?" he asked her.

"At the head of the table, facing the water. When I sat down at the far end, he moved so he was across from me. He still faced the water."

"And what does he want?"

This one was harder. Blair held up her hand. Killian’s handkerchief showed white around her finger in the dark.

"He bit me," she said. "He wanted to taste my blood."

Jack took her wrist and unwound the handkerchief, one turn at a time. He tilted her finger toward the lamp at the far end of the lot.

"And?"

"He said I taste human. That it’s disgusting." She hesitated. "Then he did it again."

"Did he."

Jack balled the handkerchief in his fist and dropped it in the door pocket, the way he’d throw away a receipt.

"That’s Killian’s," Blair said.

"Then he can ask for it."

He didn’t let go of her wrist.

"Jasper wants me back every Friday," she said. "For another taste. He says he’ll tell me what I did in the hotel lobby. He says I don’t remember." She looked at her lap. "He’s right. I don’t."

Jack’s thumb went still on the inside of her wrist.

"You promised to tell me what happened in that lobby. Tell me now."

Blair looked at the dashboard.

"He pushed me into it. Into a lobby full of beastmen." She made herself finish. "I didn’t have any clothes on. After that, I don’t remember anything until Daemus found me."

The car was very quiet.

Jack let go of her wrist. He took out his cigarettes, put one between his lips and didn’t light it.

"And you still went to his dinner," he said.

"You drove me."

"I did." He took the cigarette out of his mouth and looked at it. "And next Friday I’ll drive you again."

She stared at him. "You want me to go back?"

"He knows something about you that you don’t, Ms. Willows. That’s worth a bitten finger."

It was exactly the kind of thing she should have expected him to say. She didn’t know why it stung.

"What’s in the water?" he asked.

"Fish," Blair said a bit too quickly. "He has a really big fish tank."

Jack looked at her for a long moment then he hummed.

He put the cigarette back between his lips, still unlit. Blair watched him do it. Before she could think better of it, she reached over and took it out of his mouth.

His eyes cut to her.

"You weren’t going to light it," she said.

"No." His gaze dropped to her mouth and stayed there. "Come here."

Getting there was harder than it sounded. Her knee hit the gearshift. The dress caught on the handbrake. When she finally got one leg over his lap, her back hit the steering wheel and the horn blared across the empty lot.

Blair froze, mortified.

Jack reached down without looking and pulled a lever, and the seat slid all the way back.

"Careful," he said dryly.

"You could have done that first."

"I could have."

Then he kissed her.

His hand closed on the back of her neck and held her there, and his mouth opened hers with no patience at all. He tasted of smoke and cold air. She made a small sound against his lips, and he swallowed it and kissed her harder, until she had to grip his shoulders to stay upright.

His other hand found the zipper at her back and drew it down in one pull. He pushed the silk off her shoulders, and the dress fell around her waist. He didn’t look at it once.

His mouth moved to her throat. He caught her left wrist and pinned it to the headrest beside his head, and while he kissed his way down her neck his thumb dragged slowly back and forth across the inside of her wrist.

When his mouth closed over her breast she gasped. His tongue circled her nipple, slow, then his teeth grazed it, and her hips rocked down into his lap all on their own. He was hard beneath her. She felt the breath he let out against her skin.

His free hand slid under the bunched silk and up the inside of her thigh. He stroked her once through her underwear, barely touching, and she shivered so hard the car seemed to rock.

"Professor..."

Then he pushed the lace aside, and two fingers slid into her, and she forgot what she’d been going to say. He moved them slowly, curling, his thumb finding the place that made her thighs shake. The windows had begun to fog. Her free hand slid against the cold glass and left a print.

She was close, embarrassingly close, and his fingers slowed until they barely moved.

Blair made a sound of protest.

"Please," she whispered into his shoulder. "Don’t stop."

Jack slid his hand into her hair and drew her head back off his shoulder, so her face was in what little light came from the lot. Then his fingers moved again, faster and deeper, and he watched her the whole time.

She came apart with her palm flat on the fogged glass and a cry caught in her throat. He kept his fingers moving, slow and steady, until she was shaking against his hand and couldn’t take any more.

Only then did he stop.

Afterward, every window was white with fog.

Blair lay against his chest with her face in his neck. Under her cheek his heart was still going hard and fast. She hadn’t known it could.

Then he moved her off his lap and back into the passenger seat. He tugged her dress up over her shoulders and zipped it in one pull, the same way he’d unzipped it. He finally lit the cigarette and cracked the window an inch. The fog began to clear.

The clock on the dashboard read 11:58.

"You’re late," Jack said. "Your boyfriend will be wondering where you are."

Blair stopped with one arm halfway into her coat.

He didn’t look at her. He looked out through the clearing windshield and blew smoke at the gap in the window.

"Friday," he said. "Eight o’clock. Same place."

She got out. The cold went straight through the dress. She crossed the dark lot without looking back, because she knew he’d be watching.

Under the first working lamp, she looked down at her left wrist.

The ink had smeared to a gray blur. She couldn’t read it anymore.