It’s disgusting, really.
My thoughts shouldn’t be on Wilder at all, mystery or not. I have a spellbook to steal. A sudden influx of vampires in the academy is not my concern.
“Oh, Miss Bronwyn, how fortuitous. I was hoping to see you.”
I halt dead in my tracks. I’m at the entrance hall of the second-year building, my lunch in my hand on my way to Sofarynn. The corridor ahead is streaming with sunlight as it filters through the high arched windows, but there standing in a dark alcove just outside the front hall is Professor Morozov.
There is nothing fortuitous about this. The professor was lying in wait for me. Which means that he has taken enough notice of me to know where I take my afternoon meal.
“I don’t know how much Wilder has told you…” his tone carries a threat. It’s very clear that he is checking to see what I know, and if he doesn’t like the answer… well,Iprobably won’t like what happens next.
Wilder’s warning rings through my mind. He had said that Morozov was a threat. I’d at first laughed it off, the academy has strict rules over what can be done to students, stricter now after last year. Even if Morozov is a vampire, I have nothing to fear from him. Surely, he doesn’t feed off the students.
But then I start to wonder if that’s actually true. If a psychotic professor could kidnap students to carry out his sick experiments on them then who is to say that Morozov is not also operating under the academy’s nose.
“Nothing that his father doesn’t approve,” I reply with a smile that I hope passes for sweet and innocent and that not too much time passed while I was considering my response. If Wilder is scared enough of this man to pretend to be in love with me then perhaps, I should be just a little frightened of what such a man is capable of.
“And what might that be?”
I force a small giggle. It sounds insipid but hopefully not strained like how I feel. “Oh, you know the usual. Sweet nothings and promises of a future.”
Morozov’s eyes narrow further, and I feel my smile slip slightly. He doesn’t seem to be buying my naïve act. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes from darting to his mouth and the deadly fangs hidden within.
I’ve seen firsthand how quickly a vampire can strike.
“Just who is your father again?”
“Uh…” I begin, but I’m cut off as someone grabs my arm from behind. I jump until I hear Wilder say.
“Bronwyn, my darling, there you are.”
I try not to stiffen as Wilder drapes his arm over my shoulder. I tell myself that it is only because I can feel the coldness emanating from his skin, even through his clothes, that a shudder runs down my spine and my breath catches.
“Professor,” Wilder says with a small nod. “I’m surprised to see you here.” His tone carries a hard edge of accusation.
“I was just having some words with your lovely fiancé,” the professor replies. “Making certain that we understand each other.”
“Good luck with that, I’m afraid that there is very little she understands.”
This time I cannot stop myself from stomping on his foot. Besides, my skirts hide the movement.
“It’s a good thing that she has a pretty face and a lot of coins,” Wilder says his voice coming out breathy with the pain. His smile is plastered across his face. “Otherwise, I could have been paired with someone too smart for her own good and with an ugly face to boot.”
“I’m just still so surprised that your father thought now was an appropriate time to begin considering the holy nuptials,”Morozov mutters, his tone heavy with accusation. “Especially with all our…plans.”
It’s all I can do to keep my face blank, to try to sell the illusion of the brainless fiancé that Wilder is creating.
Wilder waves his hand as if trying to swat the words from the air before they reach him. “My father is nothing if not capable of multiple schemes at once. My dear sir, did you think you were the only person he was conspiring with? How silly of you, he never gives anything his full attention. I should know, I’m his son.” Despite Wilder’s flippant tone, I can sense the deep hurt buried underneath his carefree façade.
Morozov’s eyes dart to me but I quickly turn to Wilder, mustering my most sympathetic look as I reach up, trailing a hand across his cheek as if I’m trying to console him. I suppose there is a part of me that does pity him. I don’t know much about Wilder’s relationship with his father, but I can see in his eyes whenever he mentions him that it is not a good one.
I could have been so easily like him if not for Elwis the Eel adopting me and showing me unconditional love. I can only shudder to imagine what sort of person I would be if I had not been rescued from my abusive birth father. The few memories I have of him are nightmarish.
If I had been left in his care, I would have become just as cruel as Wilder, if not more so. After all, it is our fathers who show us who we are. Elwis showed me that I was a priceless treasure to be cherished.
My birth father showed me I was worthless, not even worth coming home to some nights, or making certain that Natasya and I were properly fed.
What sort of person did Wilder’s father teach him that he was?
