The Tutor

Prologue

Trigger Warning:

All of them. This is not a romance.

It will not elicit warm and fuzzy feelings.

HIM

Not just any woman will do. I require a special woman. I honored the last woman by

staying with her overnight. Outdoors in the woods. I am not a monster. Because she was so

lovely to look at and at one point I had wanted her. I tried to make her understand me but

she never returned my affection. I can still picture her begging me to let her live. She

promised to do anything if I just let her live. But she wasn't worth saving. None of them are.

No matter, though. I will find another. There is always another. I will keep searching until

someone is worthy of keeping. They are easy to find when you know what to look for.

A simple classified ad. A few interviews. Does she turn her body toward me in the

interview? How about a wide open and innocent gaze? Does she bow her head slightly or

sit with her shoulders rounded forward? Does she blush or become flustered at something I

say? Given a compliment does she dismiss the validity of my praise or laugh nervously?

All these little characteristics help me choose the right woman. A background check

seals the deal. No family- or- no family that cares, and no older than twenty to start.

Not just any woman will do. She has to be the right kind and I am a master at finding them.

HER

I am a logophile. A lover of words. Perhaps it's because of my namesake or maybe

just because I'm quirky but since I was a child, I've loved words. I assign all the important

people in my life words.

For instance, Aubry, is winsome, callipygian, multifarious and capricious. Just

pronouncing those words makes my brain happy. Me? I'm demure, acquiesce, and a

logophile. Words inspire me. Always have. Certain ones sound magical when said aloud.

Aubry thinks I'm ridiculous but that's because her attention to detail is evanescent. Without

Aub though, I'd be a total outcast. She basically saved me throughout high school--socially

that is. Aubry is my sluice to others; her peremptory confidence paves a way for me and

my slight self-consciousness.

"So are you going to be ready when I pick you up tonight?" she asks.

I roll my eyes. "Aub you know I hate parties."

She holds her hands up. "Wait, wait, if I play your game will you go?"

"What game?" I ask and make a face.

She looks all over the living room quizzically. "Um, nadir optimum," she says before

bursting into a fit of giggles. When Aubry Clark laughs, everyone laughs. She has an