Page 6 of Plug and Drain

No, he’d agreed to help Nathaniel because he was his friend.

Actually, no. That wasn’t the real reason, although it was true that they were friends.

The real reason he’d agreed to help Nathaniel with his little witch problem was because he was bored. And not in the way that other people were bored. Oh no. He was generally a cheerful sort of fellow and was just as happy to entertain himself as he was to amuse others, especially at evening card games.

But those were mere distractions—drink-filled evenings to numb him from remembering a painful past, and more urgently, a stagnant present. He held the position of Headmaster of Volmasque Academy simply by virtue of the fact that King Henrikk trusted him. Arken had no particular inclination towards academia, but he’d reluctantly accepted the role ten years ago and had been going through the motions ever since.

With all the people he had loved gone, life had lost its colour, just like the shock of losing Clara had made his hair turn silver far too early before he’d turned thirty. He was thirty-nine now. Nearly forty, and nearly ten years older than Nathaniel.

He sighed as he crossed the foyer and made his way down the winding staircase leading to the dorms. His shoes echoed loudly on the timber steps. The metal toe plates fixed to the soles announced his presence wherever he went.

Not that he was trying particularly hard to be quiet. He was quite possibly the only person at the academy who had nothing to fear, partly because Henrikk’s favour made him immune to threats, but mostly because he had nothing left to lose.

The landing came into view.

“Finally,” he muttered.

When was the last time he’d felt this exhausted? Possibly three weeks ago, when he’d woken on a Sunday morning with a terrible hangover. At least there was no headache this time, but his feet were numb with pins and needles. And he suspected that if he passed out now, he might not wake up at all.

Nathaniel’s favour had cost him more than he’d expected.

Still, he would be feeling more like himself as soon as he found a willing wolf to feed on.

Or unwilling.

No one had ever refused him, so it was sometimes hard to tell.

He chose the first floor and set off down the corridor, wondering which room to try. He wished there was a way of knowing who was on the other side of each door, but he supposed that would violate the students’ privacy.

Some people questioned whether the wolf students needed doors at all. They were renowned for welcoming vampires into their rooms, and the whole process of knocking and waiting seemed like an unnecessary inconvenience for all parties involved.

Although, I suppose it does lend a little mystery to the whole affair…

He struck up a low tune as he wandered past the doors. It had been a long time since he’d fed on a student. He avoided it when he could. The academy was situated in the centre of the Capital, and the various taverns and nightclubs offered a greater variety of pleasures to satisfy his needs than the academy could.

Not that he was ever truly satisfied.

It had been years since he’d felt even a glimmer of that feeling of fulfilment. When he did engage in feeding, one thing sometimes led to another, but it felt more like a distraction from the memories that gnawed at him.

Arken had rarely drunk blood of late, and he usually avoided sex altogether. The last time he’d slept with anyone had been months ago when he’d fucked a barmaid over the counter. Although she’d given herself freely, the thoughtless act had left him feeling hollow and empty inside. There had been no sleeping involved. He hadn’t even removed his waistcoat.

Still, it was better than preying upon his students. Tending to his needs with strangers was better than imposing himself on them, some of whom were only eighteen. It somewhat eased his conscience for the part he played in upholding Henrikk’s twisted empire. It was why he’d decided early on in his career as headmaster that he wouldn’t bed his students anymore.

Tonight would be different.

Tonight, one way or another, he would allow himself that sweet, sinful pleasure of sinking his fangs into one of the lovely creatures who resided in the school’s underground dormitory.

He had no preference for appearance so long as she was female and tractable. He had no appetite for forcing a wolf who resisted and no energy to move from room to room, cycling through the options. He needed to feed urgently—an urgency that was beginning to feel surreal as he grew weaker.

Arken’s whistling slowed as he drew to a stop, his exterior calmness masking the low excitement pulsing in his chest. There was a quiet tension in the corridor as if his prey could sense his approach. The musty smell of wolves filled the air, and though his sense of smell was not as strong as a shifter’s, the strong animal scent was overwhelming, and it made his cock harden. Interesting, given it had been a while since he’d felt inspired sexually.

Perhaps, he would satisfy more than his thirst for blood tonight. It was a very real possibility, assuming he didn’t collapse from exhaustion.

He eyed the doors lining the corridor.

Which one to choose?

He shut his eyes, trying to soak in his surroundings. Something drew him towards the door on his right. He peeked an eye open. There were no special markings on it to indicate who lived there, but he could sense the wolf beyond it.