She fusses with her glasses, pushing them further up the bridge of her nose as she peers past the rows of students to glimpse at the decrepit, old vampire.
He now stands with his back to the class, chalking out a diagram on the blackboard.
“I know,” Kitty mutters. “But we don’t need to provoke him.”
Elsie’s eyes roll as she fishes a nail file out of her bag.
“Why not? I’d like to see Dame sink his claws into him,” she says, filing her pinky.
When she’s satisfied, she passes it to Kitty, who uses it to buff out the chip in her right thumbnail.
“Please.” Kitty’s lips purse. “As if he’d ever risk an inquiry over Argent.”
Elsie shrugs, and Kitty passes the file down so I can even out my left hand.
“Maybe we could bribe Elliot to do it,” Elsie suggests.
“Hm.” I chuckle. “He’d probably do it for free.”
The three of us laugh in agreement, and Argent clears his throat at the front of the lecture hall, prompting us to lower our voices.
“Any news about Saturday?” Elsie whispers, leaning back in her chair.
A small pillow manifests around her neck as she makes herself comfortable, preparing to spend the rest of the lesson utterly ignoring Argent’s lecture.
“No,” Kitty replies. “Dame’s still on the fence.”
“Ugh, he’s such a buzzkill,” Elsie says.
Kitty nods, damning her brother to his lifelong reputation of “fun sucker.” Which I’m not entirely sure is a fair assessment.
Damien, as hardheaded as he can be, is nothing if not diplomatic. It’s probably the reason the Crescent council chose him as gen-alpha to begin with.
“Dame’s not a buzzkill. He’s just pragmatic,” I add. “Tell him the sirens will cover for the Crescents the next time they sneak into Divine’s playhouse if he lets them sing on Saturday.”
“You think that would work?” Kitty asks, twisting one of her golden curls around her finger.
“Yeah, why not?” I shrug. “The sirens aren’t fickle. If he lets them feed, they won’t forget it. And I’m sure he’s tired of taking hits from the Inquisition over a bunch of horny boys.”
“Yeah,” Kitty says. “This year’s batch is rowdier than the last.”
I toss the nail file back in Elsie’s bag as she crosses her arms.
“I still say he’s a buzzkill. A hot buzzkill, but still a buzzkill.”
Kitty’s face contorts, her nose scrunching and her ears pinning to the side of her head.
“Ew, Els.” She knees her. “You know the rules.”
“I know, I know. Sorry. But look at you. You’re twins, what do you expect?”
That manages to bring another blush to Kitty’s cheeks, and I shake my head as she pretends to be shy. But Elsie and I know better, and we both giggle as a low growl rumbles in Kitty’s throat.
Shy, my ass.
Elsie makes the wise choice to abandon her compliments about Dame, and instead, they fall into a long-winded conversation about the pack’s new first years.
I keep an ear tuned in, but I’m ultimately grateful for the few moments I go unnoticed.
