Sarah Thompson knows what it's like to have a midlife crisis at twenty nine. She has spent the last several years running her own yoga studio and trying to survive being single in a small gossipy town. And if that were not enough, she decides it is the perfect time to go back to school. So you see, Sarah's world was already spinning when she learns that her hunky professor has teeth … as in Vampire teeth!
This undead hero, aka Charles Underwood, introduces her to a fantastic world filled with good and evil. It is a world where Sarah learns that she is a Watcher. Her birthmark foretells a prophecy that throws her into the middle of a magical conflict where battle lines have already been drawn. Does Sarah trust this new found hero or is she just a pawn in his plans to win the war?
She watched him intently as he began to write on the chalkboard. He was at least six feet, probably taller. Dark wavy hair played at his collar. His back was broad and his black button-down pulled tight as he wrote. His snug, faded blue jeans would definitely give her something to dream about later that night.
Mmm, she thought. This guy is more football stud than college professor.
A lust she hadn’t felt in a long time began to fade as she realized the room was filling with other students. The unpleasant reality of the impending history lecture set in. The green-eyed hunk, aka Professor Charles Underwood, began an hour and a half long, one-sided dialogue about the issues leading up to the American Revolution.
How can someone so hot care so deeply about this stuff? She asked herself as the clock crept its way to the nine.
The professor obviously loved his subject. Unfortunately, it seemed just as obvious that the female students loved their teacher. There had been many latecomers, but it was only as the night class began to file out that Sarah realized how many women had signed up for this particular course. Young and old, it was clear that this general education class was chosen for the eye candy at the front of the room.
Class was over, so she grudgingly followed the assortment of groupies into the frozen night. With this many fans, she knew her chances were slim to none. So Sarah dismissed her feelings for Professor Gorgeous. She focused instead on finding her car in a parking lot full of snow drifts. Presumably, her ancient Volvo was hidden underneath one of them.
Several minutes into her search, Sarah came to the conclusion she was too tired and cold for this impossible hunt. Wherever her car was, it had no intention of being found.
She considered calling campus security or maybe a cab. Sarah rummaged around in her purse and ended up stomping her foot in frustration. A cell phone could have ended this ridiculousness rather quickly, if she could only locate hers.
“I can take you home. I rarely bite,” the professor said with a slow smile as he stepped into view.
A small twitch of fear trickled down her back. His soothing green eyes had turned predatory. His trench coat moved with the wind as he towered above her five foot two frame.
“I … I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” She took an unconscious step backward and began digging through her purse again. “I’ll just call—“
A loud crackle came from the wood line that surrounded the campus followed by drunken laughter.
“This is not a safe place for a woman to be by herself at night.” His face hardened and his fists flexed by his side. Without further conversation, he turned and walked away.
Seriously, what was that? Adrenalin pulsed through her body. It had only been a moment, but Professor Weird had disappeared completely in the veil of snow. All that was left was the unnerving sounds of an impromptu drunken party somewhere close. All of this was too creepy; college was nothing like she remembered.
As she took a deep breath, found her cell, and started dialing information, a black Mercedes pulled up next to her. The driver’s tinted window slid down. Professor Strange’s voice was firm and commanding. “Get in, Sarah Thompson.”
The warmth from the car touched her face and melted her good sense. The prickling fear turned into heart racing intrigue then melted into a flutter of excitement. She walked around and got in without saying a word.
The car smelled masculine. A hint of cologne mixed with a wonderful out-of-doors scent. It reminded her of a forest of pine trees and, in the driver’s seat, was someone who could easily play the role of a mountain man. Even in the car’s nonexistent lighting, she could make out his profile. His face was chiseled and his jaw was set. Muscled arms led to large hands that powerfully gripped the wheel.
Her breathing began to pound in her ears. She tried to concentrate on the car’s low hum, but nothing seemed to help her escape the intensity that choked the air around her.
“I live pretty close to here, a few turns really…” In the hopes of bringing some normalcy back into the situation, she began to ramble off her address and the best ways to get there.
He gave her a side glance. “I was beginning to think you wanted to go home with me.”
“Yeah.” She exhaled. “I mean, no. Home is fine. Thanks.”
“Then home is it.” They turned into her driveway.
She had no idea where the time had gone and why the ride no longer registered well in her memory. But here they were, safe and sound.
As she began to reach for the door, the professor leaned over and gently pushed back her long brown hair.
“Interesting birthmark here on your neck.” He started tracing it with his finger.
She jerked away. Whatever spell he had on her was broken. He had stepped over the line.
“Okay. It’s late and I should really get inside.” She opened her door. “Thanks for the ride.”
He turned off the car and followed behind her toward the house. “Sarah, let me ask you one thing.”
“What?” she asked, as panic began to take over. They were now standing on her dark porch.
“You’re a Watcher?” He said it more as a statement than a question.
She let out a slightly hysterical laugh as she began digging in her purse, this time for her keys. “Now you sound like my crazy grandmother.”
“What exactly am I suppose to be watching, Professor Underwood?”
Stepping closer, he hissed. “For one thing, you’re supposed to be watching me.” His lips parted and razor sharp fangs began to extend.