Scrambling around each other, they rush to appear busy or uninterested, and I can’t help but smile as they disappear down the adjoining hallways.
I should try that sometime, although it probably wouldn’t work. They’re afraid of me. Just not in the same way they’re afraid of him.
He turns back to me, beaming with pride and flashing his four diamond-encrusted canines.
“Piece of cake,” he says.
“Thanks, Cross.”
He leans down as I pass under his outstretched arm, stealing a quick kiss to my cheek.
“Anytime, baby.”
I catch the door before it swings shut, and whirl on him. But he’s already halfway down the steps when I shout, “Stop calling me that!”
He howls in answer, dismissing my irritation, and I shake my head as I watch him drape an arm around another passing target.
This one melts as soon as he smiles at her.
Poor thing. She must be new.
* * *
The midnight bell is still chiming when I enter the lecture hall, and Professor Argent, known for his rather relaxed approach to teaching, is still sitting with his feet propped on his desk and a scroll held too close to his face. It lowers as the bell goes quiet.
“Ms. Ashbourne.” His ancient voice drones my name, and I cringe when his scarlet gaze locks onto mine. “Nice of you to join us.”
“I’m not late,” I say, wishing I were better at enchantments so I could disappear for the rest of class.
Professor Argent may seem docile for a four-hundred-year-old vampire, but his centuries-long tenure has made him quite bold. Which somehow means he’s developed a bad habit of staring at me for too long, like he’s forgotten how to blink over the years.
I’ve considered draining him a thousand times, but I have a strict ‘Do Not Eat the Faculty’ policy.
“Yes, you are not late,” he mutters, “…today.”
He tilts his head, dismissing me, and my teeth grind as I make my way to my seat.
It’s a long walk, made longer by the fact that I can feel his eyes on me the whole way. But this is just the beginning.
For the next hour and forty minutes, he will look at me at least thirty times—I’ve counted before—and unless, by some miraculous stroke of fate, his eyes fall out of his head before I get to my seat, he’s guaranteed to meet his quota.
“Gods, he’s disgusting,” I grumble, dropping my things on the desk.
There isn’t much room left, on account of the pile of books Kitty carries around. But I manage to carve out a small space for myself, scooting her portable archive to the edges.
Her face flushes at my comment.
“Shh, he can hear you.”
“Good,” Elsie mutters from her position beside her, lip curling in Argent’s direction.
She hates this class. Not because of Argent’s lingering stares, although they don’t help matters, but mainly because Elsie could teach this class with her eyes closed and her hands tied behind her back. As her clan’s next priestess, Elsie had earned an A rank by the time we were fifteen. Now, nearly seven years later, she’s the only S-ranked enchantress at Highcrest.
Why they didn’t let her test out of this stupid class, I have no clue, but I’m grateful she didn’t. Without her, there’d be no one to commiserate with.
Kitty swats Elsie beneath the table, blushing up to her ears, and I laugh.
“Kitty, you of all people have no reason to be afraid of Argent,” I say.
