Zoey Rogue by Lizzy Ford Page A

resembled, he poured them cups of tea. He took no sugar or cream in his while she heaped both into hers.
    “Oh, god, Professor.” She leaned forward, headache making her nauseous.
    “Yes, well, that’s what happens when you drink poison in your alcohol.”
    “What?”
    He gave her the unhappy look again. “You’ve been to how many clubs and bars? You should know better than to drink something you didn’t see mixed together.”
    “You’re saying someone tried to kill me?” she asked. The idea made her headache worse. “Pleeeeeeeease?” She held out a shaking hand to him.
    “I ought to let you suffer.” The words were meant to be firm, but he smiled. He took her hand.
    Fire shot through her, making her skin so sensitive, the tightness of her dress hurt. Her breasts and core ached at the sex energy. But it cured her head. She pulled away, aroused and pissed.
    “Who would want to kill me?”
    “Every Cambion out there. You’re now the number one killer of Cambions,” he said proudly. “Why don’t you have tattoos marking the kills like the others?”
    “Eric …” doesn’t like tattoos . she stopped. “Anyway, it’s too many to mark now. I’d spend all day at the tattoo parlor. Oh, Eric! He thought I was at the library. I’ve gotta go!” She rose too fast, and her head spun. Zoey tumbled back into the chair and rested her head against the back.
    “We need to put you in finishing school,” the Professor said at her unladylike sprawl across from him.
    “I need to go! Can you hit me again?” she asked, holding out her hand.
    “Eric called this morning. Said he’d send your things here or to Vikki’s. I told him here.”
    She lifted her head. “What?”
    “I think you should go over there and face reality,” the Professor said, sipping his tea. “I’ll see what I can learn about the poisoning in the meantime. Then, when Eric kicks you out, you can come right back here and stay with me.”
    “Why does that make you happy?” she demanded.
    “He’s not your type.”
    “This coming from a man who seduces women for a living?” She rose again, this time more carefully. “What exactly is my type?”
    “Someone who can calm that fire of yours. Someone who you’d actually trust,” he replied. “You need someone who can balance you out and wring that sex energy out of you, or you’ll burn out soon.”
    Zoey stared at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my sex life. It’s normal. And I trust Eric. He’s normal, too.”
    “But you are not. You will have to stop pretending one day.” He spoke calmly, as if discussing the weather for the next week.
    There was too much truth to his words. She didn’t want to admit it. She wanted to be normal. She’d dreaded Eric proposing to her. Now that he’d decided to kick her out, she was frantic to regain what stability she’d had. Any thought of being poisoned disappeared as the sense of loss grew within her. She had to get to Eric.
    Zoey made it to the hallway before the Professor spoke again.
    “You want a ride? Or will you do the … what do you call it? The walk of shame? The morning after a –“
    “A ride, old man!” she barked.
    He chuckled.
    Distraught, she waited at the door for his car to be pulled around. The chauffeur held open the back door, and she vaulted into it. The mile ride back to her home seemed like a hundred.
    He pulled up to the apartment building finally, and she launched out of the car.
    “Shall I wait?” the chauffeur called.
    “No, I think …” There were boxes on the landing outside her apartment. With a heavy heart, she began to think the Professor was right. “I’ll be fine.”
    Tired, Zoey trotted up the stairs to the door and hesitated. She thought about knocking then strode in. Eric was in the center of the living room, taping up another box. He’d made the effort to fold all her clothing into neat, crisp stacks awaiting their own box. He straightened.
    “Hi,” she said.
    “You’re letting the cold