Micah’s grip loosens. His gold eyes fade back to their usual warm hazel, and the rage settles into despair.
“We just want to protect them,” he says quietly.
“I know.” I step away from the wall, straightening my shirt. “Which is why you should go back to the mansion and be with your mate. She needs your support.”
Sean stands, wobbling slightly. He probably won’t feel well for a few hours, but Vyse knows better than to do any permanent damage to anyone under my protection. Which includes every living and undead soul within the campus wards. “When can we take Regina and Killian back to the frat house?”
“Right now, Killian is a threat. Both if he escapes stasis and if anyone finds out you’re harboring him.” I gather my briefcase, check that the essays are still in order. “Then there’s the matter of Kyle still being out there, with an unknown accomplice who apparently has some significant skill with necromancy. The mansion is heavily warded. Can you say the same for the fraternity house?”
Sean hesitates. “We have a broken porch board that trips people a lot.”
Micah sighs. “Point taken.”
I move toward the door, briefcase in hand. There are things I need to do. Research to pursue and contingencies to prepare in case Vyse fails, which is likely. But right now, it’s the best option we have.
“Villeneuve.”
Micah’s voice stops me at the threshold.
I turn.
He’s standing in the middle of my office, Sean beside him, both of them looking at me with the usual suspicion, tinged with something new. Trust, if I were inclined to be optimistic.
I’m not.
“Why are you doing this?” Micah asks. “Why are you protecting Killian?”
The question is so earnest, I actually consider it.
I could tell them I imprinted on Regina the moment I met her. Could explain about mate bonds and dragons and the particularly vicious kind of isolation that comes from being the last of your kind. Could admit that protecting their alpha is reallyabout protecting her, and protecting her is really about the fact that the moment I laid eyes on her, I stopped being able to imagine a world without her in it.
I could say all of that.
I don’t.
“Don’t touch my things,” I say instead, and walk out the door.
Chapter
Eight
REGINA
The difference between Villeneuve’s mansion and Stormvale’s actual library is almost physically jarring. His collection is full of rare first editions and texts that probably shouldn’t exist. But it’s notably lacking in the more common texts, which is why I’m combing through shelves and chugging stale coffee.
For three days, I’ve been locked in Villeneuve’s private study, surrounded by grimoires older than most countries, and I’ve found exactly nothing useful. Every text on werewolf bites says the same thing.
The madness comes.
The beast takes over.
There is no cure.
Fuckthat.
Micah trails behind me like an overgrown shadow, arms loaded with the stack of books I’ve already pulled from the shelves. His glasses keep slipping down his nose, but his hands are too full to push them back up.
“This is the last of them,” I say, adding two more volumes to his pile and pushing his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose for him. The tower of books now reaches his chin. “Probably.”
