I should have left the moment I saw the red string coiled on his desk.

But I didn’t.

Professor Hale’s office always smelled like old books and that expensive cologne he wore—something dark and woody that clung to the back of my throat. The door clicked shut behind me. He didn’t look up right away. Just kept scribbling something in the margin of a student’s paper, the fountain pen scratching like it was carving into skin.

“You’re late, Miss Voss.”

My name in that low, unhurried voice did what it always did. Heat flooded between my legs so fast I had to press my thighs together.

“I know. I’m sorry....