“Dude, our professor is a giant-assdragon. No amount of nerd speak is gonna cover that.” Sean turns to me, grinning with that fearless stupidity I’ve come to almost admire. “No offense, Prof. You’re pretty badass. Even if you are kind of a dick about it.”
“None taken, Mr. Brewer.” I incline my head slightly. “I’ve been called worse.”
“I’ll bet you have. Hey, can you breathe fire in human form?” He frowns suddenly. “Like, if you wanted to, could you just…” He makes a whooshing sound and mimes flames coming out of his mouth.
I cock an eyebrow. “I’ve never tried.”
“You should try, bro. That would be sick. Twenty-four seven s’mores, no campfire needed.”
Rowan drags a hand down his face.
“I’ll take it under advisement,” I say.
Micah is hovering near Killian’s other side, his hand on the other alpha’s shoulder in a gesture that he probably means to be comforting but reads more like a man checking to make sure something’s still there. His glasses are askew, but he seems oblivious to it.
“How are you feeling, Kill?” he asks. “Really?”
Killian’s jaw tightens. “Fine.”
Another lie. Micah knows it, too, clearly. But he doesn’t push. These idiots have their own unspoken rules. Their code of behavior between alphas.
“Bro code,” I believe Sean refers to it as.
Regina hasn’t let go of Killian’s hand. She’s pressed against his side, her head resting on his shoulder, her eyes closed. Through the bond I have no right to, I feel her relief so intensely, it almost hurts.
I wonder if she can feel my presence in that bond.
If she’s aware of the thread connecting us, or if I’ve managed to keep it hidden well enough that she’s forgotten it’s there.
Probably the latter. She has more pressing concerns at the moment.
Killian is moving differently. I notice it in the way he shifts his weight, positions himself relative to Regina. Always between her and the door. Always angled so he can see the entire room. Always with one hand free, even when the other is holding hers.
He’s treating himself like a threat.
Which is exactly what he is.
But more than that, he’s treating himself like a threat specifically toher. Every movement is made with the same hypervigilance that has characterized my entire existence. The constant awareness of how much damage you could do if you lost control for even a second.
He’s afraid of himself. Afraid of what he might become. And he’s already adjusting his behavior to minimize the risk to what he loves, even when the risk is still theoretical.
He’s also pulling away. Already preparing for an ending he believes is inevitable.
Perhaps we are more alike than I once thought.
Chapter
Twelve
REGINA
The slide changes. Something about ancient Celtic rites and their influence on modern binding practices.
I should know since I made the presentation. And I should be taking notes for Villeneuve’s next class.
Instead, I’m standing in the corner of the room, staring at my personal grimoire and hoping no one notices it’s not work related.
Mood swings.
