"The Dean's office knows I'm here without permission, and they've given Lupe Tau until Friday to secure a sponsor. We've approached every other faculty member on campus, and?—"
"Yes, I'm aware." Villeneuve's lips curl. "Your pack's little tour has caused quite a stir in the faculty lounge. Professor Styles was particularly vocal about her encounter with Mr. Underwood here."
Heat rises to my face. "She ran away before I could even?—"
"I was wondering when you'd finally come to me." Villeneuve cuts me off without seeming to acknowledge I'd spoken. "Given the circumstances, it was inevitable, wasn't it?"
My jaw tightens. "If you knew what we wanted, why not just say so? Save us the song and dance?"
"There's a diplomatic process to these things, Mr. Underwood."
I clench my jaw so hard it nearly cracks at how closely his words echo Regina's. I'm going to writediplomatic processon toilet paper the minute we get home and light it on fire. That has to be some form of magic.
I force myself to stay seated even though my wolf is howling for blood. Through the bond, I feel Regina's calming influence, her silent plea for patience.
Fine. I'll play along.
For now.
"Would you consider it?" Regina asks, her voice steady. "Sponsoring our pack?"
Instead of answering, Villeneuve opens a drawer in his desk and withdraws a manila folder. He sets it between us, and I recognize the Lupe Tau crest stamped on the cover.
"You have a fuckingfileon us?" The words come out as a snarl.
Iknewit.
"A comprehensive one." Villeneuve flips it open, scanning the contents with an expression of mild distaste. "Property damage to campus facilities totaling forty-four thousand dollars over the past three semesters. Thirteen formal complaints from faculty members. Seven noise violations. Three incidents involving unauthorized modifications to university infrastructure." He looks up. "The sprinkler system and beer was particularly creative, I will admit."
"That was never proven," I mutter. "And I paid them back and then some."
"Some problems can't be smoothed over with money, Mr. Underwood," he says in the most sanctimonious tone imaginable. "There's also the matter of the Dean's Mercedes. The egging remains officially unsolved, but I obviously have my suspicions."
"You've been spying on us," I accuse.
Villeneuve's expression doesn't change. "It doesn't exactly take detective work to put two and two together, although I'd hardly be outside my bounds if I were. Your pack has been watching my property for years. Lurking in the trees, documenting my movements, attempting to investigate and determine my nature." He closes the folder with a soft snap. "Isn't that somewhat hypocritical?"
"He has a point, Killian," Regina says dryly, much to my annoyance. Maybe she could just not be the logical one for just one hour. Just give meoneand I'd be happy.
She turns back to Villeneuve. "I understand this would be a significant responsibility," she says. "Which is why I'm prepared to offer something in return."
"Oh?" Villeneuve leans forward, interest sparking in those dark eyes. "I'm listening."
Regina straightens in her chair, all business. "You're aware of my abilities as a siphon. What I did for the coven. The services I provided."
He nods, listening.
"I'm proposing something similar. Regulated, with clear boundaries. I can produce up to three stabilizing solutions per week, like the one I just gave you. Additionally, I can perform energy amplification for complex spells. And if needed, I can serve as a magical battery for rituals that require sustained output over extended periods."
She's talking about trading her energy and abilities like commodities.
"Absolutely fucking not."
Both of them turn to look at me. Regina's expression is warning. Villeneuve's is curious.
She sighs. "Killian?—"
"No." I'm on my feet before I consciously decide to move, chair scraping against the hardwood. Fuck it, I hope it's expensive. "Our mate isn't shilling her energy and magic for some… spookyfucking asshole who keeps files on people. No one is ever using you again."
