"They won't tell you? That really is weird," he mused. At least he didn't seem bothered by it. Then again, it was doubtful anything could scare a guy who looked like Dean. "Mine's unusual, too, but not unheard of, at least. It means I committed a targeted crime against another supernatural. In my case, vampires."
“Huh. From what I’ve seen, they probably had coming,” I snorted. It probably wasn’t a good idea to joke like that, but he seemed pretty chill.
Dean grinned again, and a dangerous light entered his emerald gaze. "They did. They always do."
"Yeah, well, my roommate's one of them, so I'll probably end up a blood bag," I said, taking a sip of my orange juice.
"Who's your roommate?" he asked, staring at me as if sipping from a juice box was the most charming thing he'd ever seen.
"Amari," I answered with a heavy sigh. It was getting harder to not notice the way he was looking at me. There was no explanation that made sense. I'd seen enough hot supernatural chicks to know I was pretty damn average, and there wasn't anything remotely revealing about my regulation uniform.
"Amari Hillsinger? Oof," he said, wincing. "That sucks."
"That's the general consensus," I muttered. "She's been...okay so far, though."
"Don't step on her toes and she might stay okay," said Dean, finishing off his plate of breakfast meats. "Actually, that advice works in general for most of these assholes."
"Thanks, I'll try to remember that." The problem was, I had a feeling my existence at the school was going to step on more than a few people's toes. I blinked, noticing how fast he ate. Guess that's where all that muscle came from.
Dean opened his mouth to say something else when his gaze landed on another student who had just come in. The werewolf's mouth hung open for a few more seconds before he shut it, his expression darkening. "Speaking of vampires," he growled under his breath.
I followed his gaze to a tall young man across the room. He was slender and elegant with long, near-black hair well past his shoulders. He had the instantly recognizable features of a vampire, ethereal and perfect in every way except... well, except for the partial white mask covering the upper-right quadrant of his face.
For the second time that morning, I felt like a deer in headlights. When he turned his gaze on Dean, it turned menacing. "Who is that?" I asked.
"No one you need to bother with," said Dean, in a strangely protective tone.
I was about to say something when I realized the guy was coming over. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but how Dean felt was clear enough. Judging from the glint in the other guy's piercing blue eye, the other hid completely behind his mask if it was there at all, he felt the same way.
"Dean," the vampire said curtly, barely looking at him before he turned to me. "You must be the new transfer."
"Alistair," Dean grumbled under his breath. "What do you want?"
"Nothing to do with you," Alistair said coldly, shooting another icy stare at the werewolf before he looked back to me. "It's a pleasure to meet you...?"
"Bells," I answered, looking between them. Guess the rivalry wasn't just talk. I shook his hand when he offered it, and he held it a second too long before releasing it.
Dean's nose wrinkled in the beginnings of a surprisingly beastly looking snarl, but he didn't attack the vampire like he seemed to want to. Actually, he looked like he wanted to tear him apart. Somehow, he kept his cool. Sort of.
"Go back to your table," the werewolf said, looking like he was ready to stand up and force him.
The vampire's eye narrowed dangerously. Somehow, he looked insanely menacing for a guy in a theater mask. "I don't recall taking orders from dogs."
Dean looked like he was going to lose his marbles at the dog comment, but he took a deep breath and slowly let it out through his nose. He pinched the bridge of it like he had a migraine, then dropped his hands onto the table with a growl. "I'm gonna tolerate your damnable presence for five minutes. That's what you get. Five--and only because I don't wantherto see a fight on her first day." He crossed his thick forearms. "So whatever it is you want, you'd better make it quick."
Alistair snorted something close to a laugh, not even looking at the werewolf. The intensity returned in a split second. "You shouldn't be around him," he said quietly. "He's a werewolf. They're dangerous."
I raised an eyebrow. "No offense, but last I heard, they aren't the ones who drink blood."
"No shit," Dean snorted.
Alistair's lip curled back more than usual--one of the uncovered scars deeply etched into his face cut straight through it, tugging it up in a permanent slight snarl--and he shot Dean a deadly glare.
I sensed a fight about to break out between them and the last thing I wanted was to be in the middle of it. I already had angels breathing down my neck. "Look, I don't know whatever beef you guys have, but it has nothing to do with me," I said, picking up my tray to leave.
Dean's eyes widened and his entire demeanor changed in an instant. "Don't leave," he said quickly, grabbing my tray and pinning it to the table like that would physically stop me. "Please," he added.
I blinked, ready to tell him off until he added that desperate plea. What the hell was up with these guys?
