Yeah, okay, maybe heshouldleave. For now. Let things cool off.
Without turning his back, Sinclair inched for the door.
The standoff didn’t end until he’d physically left the building, and Sinclair didn’t breathe easily until he’d walked halfway to the library. He had an office on campus he’d been meaning to make use of. He’d go there. Give things a chance to calm down.
He rubbed his neck. If his family got wind of this incident, they’d pull him from Borson in a heartbeat.
Mitchel’s scent lingered on his skin with its irritating allure. He needed a shower. And he should feed.
Maybe it would be better if the alpha did find him another place to live. The animosity would only be worse now, but Sinclair would be ready if there was another attack. He wasn’t without his own defenses.
That wolf wouldn’t pin him twice.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Mitchel
What the fuckwas the housing department thinking, inviting a vampire to live with his wolf pack?
Mitchel had been seething since yesterday’s incident.
Eleanor had offered to clean and bandage his wound, and he’d let her, all the while fuming. Now, alone in his study, he picked at the medical tape while searching through paperwork. There ought to be rules in place to prevent such an atrocity. He’d need evidence to take to the housing office, and keeping track of paperwork wasn’t exactly in his skill set.
Rather than find some bylaw he could use to his advantage, Mitchel found a set of papers he barely recognized but bore his signature nonetheless. In a pile of forms for him to sign were documents pertaining to an exchange program. A vampire. Their dorm building.
Shit. You’ve got to be kidding me.
But no. No matter how hard he stared, it didn’t change the fact that his signature was there, clear as day.
Mitchel had approved this nonsense himself. He would have to start paying closer attention to the paperwork he’d previously dismissed as pointless.
He cursed his luck, his lack of clerical skills, his cluttered desk, but most of all, he cursed the blasted alpha conference that had kept him away when he should have been nipping this fiasco in the bud.
A vampire among a pack of werewolves. His pack. Of all the stupid—
“Hey, Mitchel?” Eleanor stood at the door, interrupting his internal tirade. “How’s your wrist?”
He glanced down. She’d done an excellent job with the bandage. Not that he needed it. Werewolves healed quickly. All he’d need to do was shift, but he hadn’t made the time. “Fine. Thank you.”
“He’s been quiet, you know? Keeps to himself. Mouths off at the boys sometimes, but they deserve it.”
Mitchel chuckled. She didn’t have to explain for him to know exactly what she was talking about. Clever woman. “What do you think I should do?”
Eleanor gave a casual shrug that was anything but and came farther into the room. Her jeans had holes in the knees, her sweater was a few sizes too large, and her glasses were taped together at the bridge of her nose, but none of those details kept her from looking put together and neat. “You don’t want to know what I think.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”
She sat in the seat across from him and folded one leg beneath her. “I think you owe him an apology.”
Mitchel tapped his fingers on the desk. “Never mind. You were right. I don’t want to know what you think.”
Her laughter filled the room, bringing life back into the space. “You’d already come to the same conclusion, hadn’t you?”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Mitchel pictured the petite vampire in his mind. He’d just been watching. Big doe eyes on Mitchel like he saw something he liked. Pink lips parted. Harmless looking, but Mitchel knew better.
Vampires were dangerous. Lie smiths. Manipulators and cowards.
But…Mitchel hadn’t given him a chance. His instincts had fired, and he’d attacked. Neutralize the threat. Ask questions later.
