“Feeling better?”
I grumble, and he passes me a travel mug with a homemade white chocolate mocha in it.
“That bad, huh? You should stay home and rest, Junes.”
“I have to get to Cadigan’s class. He’s working us so hard, and I’m afraid of falling behind.”
He gives my free hand a squeeze. “I’ll help you study tomorrow night, all right?”
I give him a tired smile and nod. “Thanks, Cass.”
Marcus comes downstairs and accepts a travel thermos filled with a green smoothie from Cassian.
The toaster pops behind him, and the senior alpha spreads jam and cream cheese on my bagel as his own toasts.
I can’t help it. I hug him from behind, pressing my face into his uniform jacket, breathing in his scent, not ready to admit to myself just how much I missed him during my heat. “Kiss me goodbye?”
He turns, surprise in his dark eyes, but he’s smiling too. My caring alpha drops the sweetest kiss on my lips, wraps my breakfast in a few paper towels and sees us to the garage. He opens my door for me and helps me up into the SUV and steals one more kiss.
Just one when what I want is a hundred.
Saints, it would be ever so easy to get used to his kisses.
* * *
Professor Cadigan stopsme the moment I step into his classroom, summoning me over to his desk.
“You missed class on Monday, Miss Rose. You’re truly so confident in your abilities that you think you can skip my class?”
I squeeze my hands together behind my back, digging my nails into my palm. “Fairhaven’s policy excuses absences due to an omega’s heat, sir.”
And Ian missed his classes on Monday, too. It’s worse than I thought. More than a simple obsession…
I school my face into a demure, passive mask to hide my shock at the thought I catch. Saints, if Cadigan tells the headmaster about Ian’s relationship with me, Ian could lose his job.
“Do I need to have Doctor Huong write up a note for my absence, sir?” I ask archly, trying to distract him from his dangerous line of thought.
He waves me off with an impatient gesture. “See that you don’t fall behind.”
“I’ll have my work made up by Monday’s class,” I promise.
His thoughts flick to this weekend’s feast, to the alumni that will flood the campus for the homecoming game, and I nearly miss the most damning thought of all while turning toward my seat.
Rad.
He thinks of Rad.
I shiver, clenching my hands into fists and forcing my shoulders not to hunch as I walk toward my seat.
If he’s thinking of Rad, it could only mean that they’re working together, that Cadigan’s spell is related to Rad’s part in Project Halcyon.
“What is it?” Marcus asks in a low voice, soft enough that no one else will hear him.
I shake my head. “Later.”
I spend the entire class trying to slip into his thoughts, to push past the surface minutiae about our class and our horrendous lack of progress to what lies beneath. I don’t know how to search his thoughts with my affinity, but I push myself, guiding my affinity into his mind with intention. I’m still exhausted from my heat and the effort seems herculean, but I can’t let this go.
I need to know why he’d think of Rad.
