Chapter 22 – Sean
Chapter
Twenty-Two
SEAN
“The dynamic duo, back in action!”
I pump my fist as Killian and I cross the quad toward Briar Hall. It’s cold as balls and I’m running on approximately three hours of sleep and half a protein bar, but hey, adrenaline is a hell of a substitute.
“So what’s the plan again, Kill? We beating Villeneuve up for imprinting on our mate?”
Killian doesn’t answer me. His jaw is set in that way it gets when he’s thinking about something he doesn’t want to say out loud. I call it resting Chad face.
“Kill?”
Still nothing.
I slow my pace, studying his profile. The dark veins on his neck are visible above his collar.
They’ve spread since yesterday. Since the roof, where apparently he and Regina had some kind of breakthrough that involved him finally coming home smelling like our mate instead of sulking in the woods like a sad, murderous Bambi.
“Wait.” My stomach does a backflip. “We’re not killing him, right? Regina would be pissed.”
There are probably other reasons it’s a bad idea, but that’s the only one I really give a shit about.
Killian’s silence makes my spine itch. I always get itchy when we’re about to do something I’m pretty sure is illegal.
Allergies, I guess.
I know his family is basically the shifter mafia.
Four generations of Underwoods running supernatural operations up and down the East Coast, connections that go deep enough that even the Council doesn’t fuck with them unless they have to.
I’ve seen Killian “handle” situations that would make most people piss themselves.
He’s an alpha’s alpha.
The real deal.
But this feels like a lot. Even for him.
“Killian. Buddy. Pal. Fearless leader—”
“No one is killing anyone.” He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. It’s getting longer than he usually lets it, which is understandable, given the whole slowly-turning-into-a-mindless-rage-monster thing. “I just want to talk.”
“Talk.” I echo the word like I’m testing it for structural integrity. “You want to talk to the guy who secretly bonded himself to our mate.”
“Yes.”
“The dragon.”
“Yes.”
“The ancient, terrifying, fire-breathing dragon who could probably turn us both into crispy snacks if he felt like it.”
“That’s why I brought you.” Killian’s eyes meet mine. There’s that yellow flicker deep inside them. It’s been happening more often lately, but it’s kind of helpful I guess. Like a visible rage meter. “You’re physically the strongest in the pack. If I lose control, you can hold me back.”
I stop walking.
Then I flex. Both arms, full show.
“Damn right I am.” I kiss my right bicep, then my left. My homeboys. “These guns don’t quit.”
Killian rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he says. “He should be finishing up his morning lecture and Regina said she was manning study hall, so it’s our chance to grab him without her.”
“Right, so she doesn’t stop us from killing him.”
“No,” Killian growls. “Have you even been paying attention?”
“Oh, right. No killing. Just testing you, bro.”
We find Villeneuve coming out of Briar Hall’s main entrance. He’s got his briefcase in one hand and that permanently annoyed expression that makes him look like he’s grading everyone he sees.
We’re all failing, probably.
His dark eyes land on us and his expression changes a little. It’s not fear because I don’t think this guy even knows what fear is. And he doesn’t exactly hate us, no matter what Killian thinks.
More like…indigestion.
But for the brain.
“Mr. Underwood. Mr. Brewer.” His voice is dry as usual. “To what do I owe the pleasure of being ambushed outside my own building?”
“We need to talk,” Killian says, hands in his pockets. Probably to keep them off Villeneuve’s throat.
“How delightfully vague.” Villeneuve adjusts his grip on the briefcase. “I have a faculty meeting across campus in fifteen minutes. Whatever this is about, it can wait.”
“It really can’t.”
Here we go. The showdown. I can practically see the little lightning bolts shooting between their eyes like in a cartoon.
Alpha energy, or whatever you want to call it.
Before I can lose the battle against the urge to start playing an air guitar riff from The Final Countdown, Villeneuve sighs.
“Walk with me.”
We fall into step on either side of him. I feel like a bodyguard in a movie, except the guy we’re guarding is the one who could kill us both without breaking a sweat. Bet it still looks totally badass.
The campus is already packed. Students running between buildings, a few professors hurrying to their own meetings. Nobody pays much attention to us, badassery aside.
Killian doesn’t waste any time.
“I know you bonded Regina during the ritual.”
Villeneuve doesn’t even slow down. “That’s hardly news. You saw it yourself yesterday.”
“I saw the thread.” Killian’s voice is almost a growl, which isn’t a great sign this early in the conversation. “Connecting you to her the same way we’re connected to her. So I can’t kill you without hurting her.”
“How convenient for me.”
“What I want to know is why.” The yellow in his eyes is yellowier now.
Fuck.
Villeneuve stops walking.
We’re in the middle of the path, and students trip over themselves to get around us. One literally walks into a bush to avoid Killian, which is probably the smart move.
Villeneuve turns to Killian and gives him that look that makes frosh piss themselves.
“Does it matter?”
Killian’s growl isn’t human at all. “You bonded yourself to our mate without her knowledge or consent. Without our knowledge or consent. You wove yourself into something that was supposed to be ours, and you’ve been hiding it for months. So yes, Professor, it fucking matters.”
“I already gave Regina an explanation—”
“Bullshit.” Killian steps closer. His knuckles are white. “You gave her the same cryptic non-answers you give everyone, but you’re going to give me the truth.”
“The truth.” Villeneuve’s lip curls slightly. “And what makes you think you’re entitled to that?”
“Because she’s our mate.” The words come out as a snarl. “Because you don’t get to insert yourself into our bond and then act like you owe her nothing. I can’t rip you to shreds? Fine. But that still leaves plenty of other shit I could do to you on the table that won’t affect Regina.”
I shift my weight, trying to look totally casual while also positioning myself to grab Killian if he lunges.
Lunging probability is at like a thousand percent at this point. I just hope he doesn’t Hulk out on me and finish turning into a werewolf when he does.
“I’m not going to ask again,” Killian says quietly. “Why did you do it?”
Villeneuve is silent for so long I start thinking about how shiny his hair is and wondering if he’d kill me if I used some of his shampoo. I could always blame Rowan.
“To protect her,” he finally says. It took him so long I’ve already forgotten the question.
Oh, right. The ritual.
Killian laughs, but it’s not a “funny haha” laugh. It’s more of a “I’m going to cut your liver out with my claws and eat it first” laugh. “Bullshit.”
“Believe it or not. You asked for the answer and I gave it to you.”
“Protect her from what?” Killian’s voice deepens slightly. “The coven? Kyle? Some other threat you haven’t bothered to tell us about because you’re a secretive fucking prick?”
Villeneuve’s jaw tightens.
“Answer me.”
“From myself.”
Killian stares at him. “What?”
“Like I told Regina, I did it to protect her from myself.” Villeneuve’s voice is flat. “Is that clear enough for you?”
“No,” Killian snaps. “Try again.”
“The moment I saw her,” Villeneuve answers impatiently, “my dragon claimed her.”
The words hit different, even though I’m not sure what they mean. I know what it means when a wolf claims a mate, obviously, but dragons are a whole different thing.
Killian’s stance shifts slightly. “What?”
“Dragons don’t bond the way wolves do.” Villeneuve’s laugh is bitter. “We see our mate and we want. Every instinct screams to take, to possess, to hoard. We can’t love. We obsess and we own.” He pauses. “A dragon ultimately destroys everything it possesses. Including its mate.”
“Bro,” I murmur. “That’s hella sad.”
They both glare at me.
“You’re saying—” Killian starts.
“I’m saying Regina was bound to me before you ever met her,” Villeneuve interrupts because he’s fucking rude. “Before she ever set foot on this campus. The moment my eyes found her, she was mine.” His voice drops. “And that terrified me more than anything has in eight hundred years.”
Damn, sometimes I forget he’s a super fucking old dude in there. So old he’s almost not old because my brain can’t fathom it. He could be my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great—
“The bond I created during the ritual,” Villeneuve continues, “wasn’t to claim her.
That part was already settled. It was to bind myself.
To make sure that if anything happened to her—if my dragon’s nature ever got the better of me and I harmed her—I would die too.
” His green eyes meet Killian’s. “As I said, dragons destroy everything they possess eventually. The only way to slow it, possibly even to prevent it, is to have that possession move in both directions.”
Killian looks like a statue. Like he doesn’t trust himself to breathe and not rip Villeneuve’s spine out through his nostrils.
I’ve gone still too, honestly. My brain is trying to process this and coming up with nothing but error messages.
“You’re telling me,” Killian says slowly, “that you tied your life to hers, on purpose, so that if you hurt her—”
“I die.” Villeneuve’s voice is flat. “Yes. If there is one instinct in a dragon that can be trusted, it is self-preservation.”
Killian stares at him, expressionless. “That’s...”
“Romantic as fuck,” I blurt out.
Killian’s head whips around so fast I hear his neck crack.
“What?” I hold up my hands. “It is! The guy basically put a suicide pact on himself to stop from going full dragon on our mate. I’m not saying it’s right, but that’s some Notebook level shit right there.”