“You’ve got your beast voice back.”
“All…most…not…quite…”
“But you can’t shift yet?”
He dipped his head, eyes taking on a dull sheen.
My nape prickled. “It’ll happen. Just give it time. Look, I’ve got to go, but we’ll talk again. Soon.”
He took a step toward me, and I took an instinctive one back before I could check myself.
“Not…hurt…you.”
“I know that.” Of course I did. “Stay safe.” I skirted around him and broke into a jog. Not because I wanted to get away from him. I needed to get to my session. But there was no denying the inexplicable unease that his presence had spawned in my belly.
* * *
Miss Snap’soffice was nothing more than a large broom closet on the first floor, with enough room for a desk, two chairs, and two shelves lined with crystals of all shapes and sizes. A single window behind her desk silhouetted her in sunlight, so that her frizzy blonde hair lit up like a halo. She had the kind of face that looked as if she were always listening, which, considering her profession, was fortunate. Or had she taken up the professionbecauseof her face?
“Miss Onyx, you were saying?”
Shit, what had I been saying? “That I’m adjusting? I’ve made…friends.” Thank Trinity the word didn’t stick in my throat.
“Good. Good.” She jotted down notes. On what, I wasn’t quite sure, but whatever. “And how are you coping with your loss?”
I tensed. “Excuse me?”
“Your mother passed away a few weeks ago, didn’t she?” She flipped through her notes. “I mean…it says here…am I right?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Oh…” She sat back in her seat. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry, but it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. To provide any support you need through your time of grief.”
“I’m done grieving.”
She blinked sharply. “Right,” she said, dragging the word out slowly as she scribbled more notes.
“What are you writing?”
“Just a few notes on our session.”
The urge to get up and snatch the notepad from her surged through me. I curled my hands into fists in my lap. “What did you write just then?”
She pressed her lips together. “I wrote thatthe student is in the denial phase of their grief.”
Heat sparked in my chest. “Denial? That’s bullshit. I know my mother is dead. I’m notdenyingthat.”
She set her pen down and laced her fingers together on the desk. “Denial is a complex emotion, Anamaya. We can choosenotto grieve. To put the emotions aside. Maybe you think that it’s better that way. That the grief will go away if you ignore it.”
What the Fel was she talking about? “I didn’t ignore it. I cried. I cried for fucking days.”
“And then you stopped, and you did what? Applied to come here and put all your focus into admission?”
What was she getting at? “I decided to do something with my life.”
“Uh-huh, and how often have you thought about your mother since coming here?”
My pulse raced, heat gathering behind my eyes. “I’m done.” I pushed back my chair. “If you want to talk about classes or how I’m adjusting here, then fine, otherwise we’re done.”
