Professor Elias Villeneuve unfolds himself from the driver's seat like someone who's never had to rush a day in his clearlyunnaturally long life. There's no way this guy is in his late twenties like he says,alwayswith that slight grin like he's ageless because he eats virgins for breakfast.
No. Fucking. Way.
His suit is charcoal today, perfectly tailored, not a crease or wrinkle in sight. His dark hair is slicked back from a face even more smug than usual as he regards us like he knew we were on our way.
"Regina." His voice carries across the distance between us, cultured and cool. "What a nice surprise."
He ignores me, of course.
Pointedly.
A growl builds in my chest before I can stop it. The sound rumbles out, low and threatening. Regina's elbow connects with my ribs. Gently, but with clear intent.
Behave, the gesture says.
"Professor." Regina's voice is warm, diplomatic. "I was hoping I could thank you properly for your assistance with the ritual. And discuss something, if you have a moment?"
Villeneuve's lips curve into something that might be a smile on someone less unnerving. This guy triggers every uncanny valley sensor in my system, and as a wolf, there aremanysensors.
"I always have time for you, Ms. Cook." His gaze slides to me, and the smile sharpens. "And your... service dog."
I snarl before I can stop myself. Regina's hand finds my arm, fingers pressing a warning into my bicep.
"Killian came to provide additional context for our discussion," she says smoothly. "Pack alpha perspective and all that."
"Right." Villeneuve extracts a set of keys from his pocket, moving toward the front door with the unhurried stride of a man who owns everything he surveys. "Please, come in."
He makes a subtle gesture with his hand, and I feel the wards shift. The magical barrier that's been pressing against my senses like an invisible wall suddenly parts, creating a gap just wide enough for us to pass through.
Regina steps forward without hesitation. I follow, every muscle tensed for?—
The world explodes.
One second I'm walking. The next, I'm airborne, launched backward like I've been hit by a freight train. I crash into the grass hard enough to drive every fucking hint of breath out of my lungs. Or maybe that's the magical energy breaking across my skin like lightning.
This fucking asshole?—
"My apologies." Villeneuve's voice drifts over me, dripping with false concern. And disdain.Veryreal disdain. "I must have forgotten to adjust the parameters for wolf shifters. The wards can be quite... temperamental."
Prick.
I push myself up on my elbows, dirt and grass clinging to my jacket. The smug bastard is standing in his doorway, watching me with the hint of a smirk that's probably only obvious to me.
He didn't forget shit.
He knew exactly what would fucking happen.
"Killian." Regina's beside me in an instant. Through our bond, I feel her concern, but also her irritation. At me, for growling. At Villeneuve, for being a dick. At least she's onto him. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," I grit out, brushing off my clothes. My pride's more bruised than my body.
Villeneuve makes another gesture, and this time when I step forward, the wards accept me without incident. Still feels like walking through cobwebs made of static electricity, but at least I stay on my feet.
The inside of his house is exactly what I expected. It looks like an IKEA catalog fucked a glass blowing workshop, and there are bookseverywhere.
Shit, Regina must love this place. I seriously need to up the number of books in the frat house. Books out the ass.
We follow Villeneuve into what I assume is his study even though it's bigger than our entire living room. Huge windows let in natural light, and even more books fill custom shelving that stretches toward the ceiling. The annoying kinds of books that are probably gun boxes because no one actually reads that shit. A massive oak desk dominates one corner, its surface completely clear except for a single pen.
