"Excellent. Follow me."
The first lecture is Historical Blood Magic, held in a vaulted room that looks like it belongs in a cathedral rather than a university. Students fill the tiered seating, notebooks open and pens ready. They straighten and shut up when Villeneuve enters.
I take a seat in the back corner, trying to be inconspicuous.
The lecture itself is fascinating. Villeneuve speaks with the authority of someone who's lived through the events he's describing rather than just read about them. His voice carries effortlessly through the space, commanding attention without ever raising above conversational volume.
I find myself taking notes, genuinely engaged despite my complicated feelings about the man.
Halfway through, I catch myself reaching up to check my glamour. It's still in place—I can feel the familiar drain of energy, the slight buzzing across my scarred skin—but the compulsion to verify is overwhelming.
What if it slips?
What if everyone can see?
I force my hand back down to my notebook.
The glamour is fine.I'mfine.
By the time the lecture ends, I've filled three pages with notes and only checked my glamour twice more. Progress, maybe.
The second lecture is Ancient Magical Practices, in a different building with a smaller class. Then office hours, which involves watching Villeneuve reduce several students to nervous wrecks with nothing more than pointed questions and raised eyebrows.
I'm starting to relax into the rhythm of the day. This is manageable. Challenging, but manageable. Villeneuve is demanding but not unreasonable, and the work itself is exactly the kind of intellectual engagement I've been craving.
For the first time in years, I feel like I'm back in my element.
The pack chat has been surprisingly quiet. Just a few memes and an "accidental" selfie Sean managed to send of himself shirtless and flexing in the gym mirror. No panicked messages, no demands for status updates. I feel a swell of gratitude for their restraint.
Then I glance out the window during a lull in office hours.
A bear is watching me from the treeline.
Oh no. Not a bear. A fuckingwolf.
A bulky wolf with familiar golden eyes that meet mine across the distance with an expression of guilty defiance.
I groan internally.
"Is something wrong, Ms. Cook?"
Villeneuve's voice cuts through my annoyance. I tear my gaze from the window, forcing a pleasant expression.
"No. Not at all. Just admiring the view."
"Mm." His dark eyes flick to the window, then back to me. "The campus does have its charms."
If he noticed the wolf, he doesn't mention it.
A student arrives with questions about next week's exam, and I help answer a few of the easier ones while Villeneuve handles the more complex queries. By the time the student leaves, I've almost forgotten about my furry stalker.
Almost.
I excuse myself to use the restroom, and the moment I'm alone, I pull out my phone.
REGINA
I saw you.
