Chapter 4
“Here you are!” Damen greeted me at Dr. Stephens’s door with a grin before wrapping his hands around my waist.
I felt my cheeks warm as I watched him, taken aback by this sudden burst of affectionate attention. It momentarily stole my breath away. Understanding Damen’s ever-changing moods was proving to be a challenge.
“What took you so long?” Damen asked, turning his attention to Anthony. “Brayden sent you to find her ages ago.”
“Brayden told you to come get me?” I blinked at Anthony, my pride slightly bruised.
And here I thought he and I were beginning to understand each other. Had it all been a ploy?
“I would have walked with you anyway,” Anthony replied. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to make my move.”
“Make your move?” Damen’s grip tightened on my waist.
“Oh, stop.” Anthony finally turned his attention to Damen. “It’s not like you’re thinking. I’m just interested in what’s going on these days. What’s so wrong with that?”
“I’m surprised you offered to do anything,” Damen admitted with a frown. “You’ve been hanging around a lot lately. You never cared to do your job before.”
Anthony glanced down the hallway. “Never had a reason to,” he answered, almost distractedly.
“What was that?” Damen asked.
“Nothing.” Anthony quirked his mouth at Damen. “Just that things are finally interesting. You’re so fucking boring.”
“Don’t curse in front of her!” Damen moved his hands over my ears.
“It’s not like that’s going to change anything.” Anthony shifted his backpack to his other shoulder. “She knows damn well what I’m saying.”
Damen, who was behind me, said something, but I didn’t catch it. Anthony smirked at him. “Lord, you really are an idiot. She can read lips.”
Damen dropped his hands from my ears and stepped away.
“Ah,” I began, shifting my weight between my feet. “What makes you think that?”
“Finn always stands in front of you when he talks to you,” Anthony replied, brushing off an invisible piece of lint from his shoulder. “And if you’re not already looking at him, he’ll do something obnoxious to make sure you see his mouth.”
My face heated.
“Really?” I asked. How did I never notice this before? “He could be trying to make it easier to hear him,” I argued.
“No, you’re lip reading,” Anthony said. “I’ve tested it out a few times, and no one else has heard me while you responded.”
Darn it.
“It’s not nice to trick me.” I frowned.
“Nah,” Anthony rolled his shoulders. “It’s actually kind of fun.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. I thought we had bonded. Well, he would never be able to fool me again.
“ Thank you , Anthony.” Damen stepped between us, his voice lined with weary patience. “But I don’t have time to deal with you today. Are you going to class now?”
“Yeah.” Anthony frowned down the hallway.
This was the perfect opportunity to ask a question that weighed on my thoughts earlier. “What’s your major?”
Anthony turned his attention to me, his expression softening. “Public health.”
“What kind of work are you thinking of doing?”
“I want to be a caseworker.” Anthony stepped back, pulling down the zipper of his jacket. “I enjoy helping others. I like it almost as much as annoying you .” He grinned at Damen. “Or your brother. You’re both assholes.”
Damen stiffened but didn’t respond as Anthony left, stopping to throw me a short wave and a wink before he turned the corner.
I glanced at Damen’s lips as he began to mutter. “He’s so infuriating.”
“Anthony?” I asked. Damen glanced back at me and raised his eyebrow. “I think he’s cheerful,” I continued.
“Of course you do—he’s Brayden’s best friend. Those two are always up to something stupid.” Damen touched the cuff of his sleeve. “Though I doubt that’s why he’s always hanging around these days.”
“Why is he hanging around?” I asked.
Damen glanced at me and sighed again. The long-suffering expression on his face caused my hackles to rise. I sucked in a breath, jumping to the next subject.
I didn’t want to broach what appeared to be a sensitive subject.
“Are people friends with the others in their quintet,” I ventured. “Or do all the Officers hang out together?”
“Quintet friendships?” Damen raised his brow. “Not usually, even though they do work together. It’s rare for the entire quintet to be close. It’s more like a family bond; within families, there’s always contrasting personalities.”
“What about our quintet?” I asked.
“We’re different than the others,” Damen responded, lips thinning. “But in some instances, we are similar. For example, Julian and I have had our differences in the past—Titus too.”
“Is it always that way?”
Damen cleared his throat. “Not everyone in a quintet has to like each other,” he replied, not answering my question. “We just need to be able to work together.”
I thought back, recalling an earlier conversation within these halls. Dr. Stephens had bluntly stated that Finn wasn’t exactly well-liked.
I hadn’t thought much about those words or what they meant since.
“Does anyone like Finn?” I pressed my fingers to my lips, my heart pounding in horrible realization. This was heartbreaking, and—despite my best efforts to hold on to my righteous anger—a sense of sadness for my former ex-best friend began to stab at me.
Damen squared his shoulders. His gaze was wary now, appraising my reaction, though I couldn’t fathom what he was waiting for.
“I’m cautious of him,” he said slowly. “But most days, I don’t have a problem with him. Our relationship is complicated.”
“It’s his own fault if nobody likes him.” Dr. Stephens cut into our conversation. “Finn refuses to cooperate with anyone who tries to work with him, and he won’t attempt to act civil most of the time.”
I’d jumped at the interruption, then peeked past Damen into Dr. Stephens’s office. The older professor sat at his wood-stained desk.
I hadn’t even noticed that he was there. Heat burned at my cheeks.
“Are you planning to gossip about Finn Abernathy all day?” Dr. Stephens rested his chin on his linked fingers, shooting the two of us a disapproving glare.
“I do have papers to grade. Mr. Damen,”—he turned his attention to Damen and pushed a stack of salmon-colored papers with his elbow—“I need you to deliver these to the registrar’s office. ”
“I’m sorry to bother you when you’re working,” I whispered, glancing at Damen. “But I brought you a coffee.” I held out the cardboard carrier.
“Thank you.” Before I could protest, he grinned at me, grabbed the cup nearest to me, and chugged it.
I gaped at him, disbelief rendering me speechless.
First of all, he had grabbed the wrong drink. That was my seasonal treat! Secondly, what was this uncivilized manner of drinking coffee?
“What’s wrong, baby girl?” Damen lowered the empty cup. “Are you hungry?” He touched my shoulder. “I’ll be finished here soon, and then I’ll take you out to eat.”
I wasn’t sure if it was safe to believe him. My hopes had been dashed so many times.
Good food was a memory at this point. With Miles gone, it was a wonder I hadn’t starved. Titus only contributed beef jerky to the hoard, and Julian had his salads.
On the other hand, Damen seemed to enjoy Red Bull and spicy tacos.
It was a miracle that Finn was around to cook.
“You’re too cute not to show off,” he said, tugging on my half-ponytail as his gaze heated, traveling down my form. “I’ll run this errand for Gregory, and we’ll leave.”
I narrowed my gaze at Dr. Stephens, the man standing between me and food. Yet he didn’t so much as flinch under my accusing stare.
Didn’t he have other minions? Wasn’t he in some highly regarded position? His delegation skills must be terrible if he had to use Damen for trivial matters.
Who would Damen choose—me or his mentor? Dr. Stephens held my gaze, and for a split second, I swore I saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
I opened my mouth, although I wasn’t sure what to say. Before I could speak, Damen was ushering me into the room. “Wait here,” he said. “And thank you for the coffee. Although, for future reference, I’m not a fan of warm milk.”
I wanted to smack him. I’d been waiting all season for that!
“I’ll be back,” he said. Then he stepped backward out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
Bollocks.
I glared at the flavorless drink in my hands. What a wasted effort.
Dr. Stephens cleared his throat—a reminder of where I was and who I was with.
“I’m not sure what your beverage has done to offend you,” he began, nodding toward a tiny table in the corner of the room, where a small coffee pot and basket were placed, “but if you need some other refreshment, feel free to help yourself.”
My ire fled. Dr. Stephens’s stern face seemed to grow sharper and more imposing, and the room shrank. Warning bells echoed in my ears as my heart pounded.
Damen had foolishly left me alone with the man who, upon our first meeting, had sent me into the woods to die. And while I’d seen him multiple times since then, this was our first time alone since he’d learned my identity.
“Or don’t.” Dr. Stephens leaned back in his seat. “Suit yourself.” He didn’t seem to care one way or another. He continued to an entirely different train. “Did you know that your mother was my niece?”
I studied him cautiously. “I know that…”
“I’m also your magical guardian,” he added, watching me with mild interest.
Why was he telling me this? Was he expecting me to leap into his arms with joy?
“I know that too,” I told him.
Why was Damen taking so long? Would I be paranoid to think Dr. Stephens had sent him away just so he could talk to me alone?
“Good.” The elderly professor nodded, acting like we’d reached a mutual understanding. “I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.”
My heart pounded as trepidation filled me. What, exactly, had we cleared up?