The alpha rushed him, growling his fury as the crowd darted out of his way. He pinned Sinclair to the wall by his neck before Sinclair could gather his senses and react.
“Back, fiend!” Mitchel’s spittle rained onto his cheeks, and hot breath bathed his face.
Sinclair grasped at his throat, desperate for air, his toes barely connecting to the ground. Instinct reared, and his fangs dropped into place. He curled his lips back and hissed, digging his fingernails into the flesh of the alpha’s wrist.
Mitchel let out a roar but didn’t give an inch. “Why is a vampire in my territory?”
Sinclair couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, so he used his strength to rip at the assaulting flesh until a rivulet of blood poured from the wound.
Big mistake.
The scent was overwhelming. Alluring. Powerful. It baffled his senses and left him torn between urges.
Flee. Fuck. Fight. Feed.
Maybe all of them at once.
He stopped scrabbling at the wound and pleaded with his eyes. Much longer and he’d black out.
Nathan spoke up. “Yeah, um, Mitchel, we don’t like him either. But you probably shouldn’t kill him.”
Mitchel grumbled. As suddenly as he’d sprung, he let go and backed away.
Sinclair gasped, choking in oxygen. He doubled over and spit onto the ground, all while edging toward the exit. With conscious effort, he pushed the enticing odor of Mitchel’s blood out of his mind.
Must get to safety.
The other wolves had shrunk back, watching in stunned silence.
Cupping his injured hand, Mitchel scowled at Sinclair. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
Fear morphed into anger. This alpha had no right. Sinclair had earned his place at Borson fair and square. He’d risked his relationship with his father and won over the entire council to be here.
He rolled his shoulders back and stacked his spine. “Exchange student, PhD candidate Sinclair Davis,” he rasped, voice hoarse but with plenty of venom. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”
“This is my pack.” Mitchel placed himself between Sinclair and the others. “And your kind aren’t welcome.”
“Tough.” Sinclair was determined to stand his ground. If he backed down now, he might as well run home to Moore. “This housing situation was set up for me by the university. I have every right to be here. If you want me gone, feel free to utilize the appropriate channels to find me an alternate placement. Preferably one with civilized people and a functioning dishwasher.”
Mitchel’s stunned expression almost made him laugh. Almost. He still had some instinct left to survive.
Sinclair straightened his clothes and brushed invisible dust from his sleeves. “I’ll have you know not one kind word has been said to me since my arrival, even though I’ve done nothing to bother any of your precious pack. I held no ill will toward werewolves before arriving, but I can no longer claim that to be so. I’ll be glad to leave, but I’m not going anywhere until more suitable accommodations are provided.”
Mitchel parted his lips, but beyond an irritated huff, nothing came out.
Sinclair cleared his scratchy throat. “Furthermore, what kind of maniac attacks a person with zero provocation?”
The alpha’s expression veered back to murderous. “Your species is provocation enough.”
“Yeah, well, at least my species developed better ways to communicate than brute force and grunting.” Sinclair rubbed his neck, sure it was going to bruise. “I should have you charged with assault.”
The other wolves bristled, bringing Sinclair’s attention to focus more acutely on his situation. Maybe he shouldn’t be mouthing off in a building full of werewolves who despised him, even if he was in the right.
“He’s been here all week, Mitchel.” Nathan stepped toward the larger wolf. “I tried to tell you before you left, but you told us to handle it.” He shrugged. “So we’ve been handling it.”
Sinclair scowled. “If by ‘handling it’ you mean threatening me and stealing my food, then yeah. Great job. Gold stars for all of you.”
A low growl emanated from the alpha’s throat. His nostrils flared. His wicked gaze never left Sinclair for a second.
