Dallas was failing 101 Statistics but that didn't really matter because what he wasn't failing was wooing Audrey Williams. She put him in the mind of a fairy, the gentle slope of her nose, the fullness of her lips, shined with just enough gloss to make you double take. Those big brown sparkling eyes.

"There's a show playing," he tried, sliding them across the table. She glanced at them.

"Ms. Williams? See me after class." Her professor demanded.

Audrey stayed in her seat when the class ended. The Professor stood in front of her.

"You and Mr. Texas—"

"Holy shit his parents hate him."

The professor raised his brows expectantly. "And," he elevated his voice talking over her. "You pay to be here, but I expect respect in my class."

Audrey frowned. It was interesting. Dallas did most of the talking, but he wasn't here, was he? No. It was just her...he leaned over, narrowing his eyes.

"So you understand me? Now you're doing fine in my class but I could just as easily turn that A into an F."

It dawned on Audrey what was happening. Her professors eyes dropped to her chest. She raised her collar.

"And how exactly would you do that?" Alexander asked from the door, his hands in his pockets. "Her work is exceptional. Unless of course you're grading off some kind of scale that doesn't show up in your syllabus?"

The professor backed away and cleared his throat. "Who are you and why are you in my class?"

Alexander smiled and stepped further into the room. "Oh that doesn't matter. What matters is, you don't get to base your grades off your bangability score and you certainly don't get to blackmail students who, as you so eloquently put it: pay to be here. Now I am going to suggest, you pack your things because you will not be teaching at this, or any other institution ever again. Goodbye."

Alexander waited. The professor looked at his statute and left the room in a huff.

"Should've called me," he said softly. "You know I would've come to get you."

"I just figured out what was going on," Audrey whispered, holding her shirt over her cleavage. He took off his jacket and handed it to her.

"Don't stay behind with any professor alone. With anyone, except me. Just to be safe. People are..." He helped her up. "He won't be back."

Audrey nodded, covering herself with his jacket. "Thank you I..."

Alexander just nodded walking her to the car. "I'll take you home—"

"Actually I don't wanna be on campus right now. Maybe we could get a hotel or something. I don't want to be alone."

"You're welcome...to come to my house. Stay over. Security is very tight. I've got a theater room you can stay up and watch movies."

"I thought no one went to your house," she remarked.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek gingerly. "You are the only exception. I know you had a rough week. Tests. This. Your period. You're my Audrey. I told you I'd take care of you didn't?"

She nodded softly. He did say that. And he has. She'd never tell him of course, because fuck him, but —he took care of her. Good care of her, even. The best clothes, picked her up every day, and made sure her heart was doing well.

"You'll see, sweetheart. You'll be cheered up in no time. You have your pills with you?" He asked, brushing her cheek. Audrey nodded again, and silently leaned her head on his shoulder.

He smiled softly and glanced at the top of her head. Alexander believed some people needed therapy. And he was never one to knock what worked. However, his body was a finely oiled machine, and the way it clued him in to any internal turmoil was simple: constipation.

Since he'd taken Audrey as his ward he'd been flowing freely, except the hiccup when he started fucking her. Now that he was taking care of her, with no strings and no benefits, he found himself refreshed, with a nice morning shit to look forward to.

Still, ever so often he'd get a rumble in his belly that he couldn't quite place, as if something were living inside him, feeding off his energy. It would happen when she would smile. When they would get close.

And now, as she stepped into his living space, and looked around, her fingertips brushing the back of the couch, it fluttered. He touched it looking down with a slight frown.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, noting the art on the walls. She looked back at him and smiled, his jacket coming gown to her knees, and hanging over her arms.

What was happening, why was his stomach reacting that way. He mentally went through his meals for the day.

"Now you make yourself at home," he remarked, opening his hands. "Feel free to anything in the fridge what's mine is yours yada-yada, you know the spiel." He waved, and looked around.

Audrey sat primly on the couch, her back straight. He sighed, and put his hands on her shoulders. He pulled her back, took her shoes off and pulled her feet onto the couch.

"Make yourself comfortable," he reiterated, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Everything is so expensive," she whispered.

He shrugged. "It's just a house. Everything in here is meant to be comfortably lived in. So live, Audrey." Her toes wriggled.

He tossed her a Sherpa blanket. She sighed, wriggling under it. "This feels so good, the best blanket I've ever felt."

"It's yours," he grinned.