Chapter 22 – Sean #2
Killian’s left eye twitches. “Romantic is not the word I’d use.”
“It was necessary,” Villeneuve corrects.
Killian turns back to Villeneuve. His eyes aren’t quite as yellow as they were a few minutes ago, but he’s still pissed. But everyone’s spines are still in the factory default positions, so I’m taking it as a win.
“Why should I believe you?”
Villeneuve’s expression doesn’t change. “I don’t care if you believe me. I don’t need your approval, Mr. Underwood. I don’t need your understanding. I did what I did, and I would do it again for the very same reason I will not hesitate to put you down if your worse nature becomes a threat to her.”
Killian’s jaw works. I can see him processing, trying to fit this new information into his existing worldview. It’s about as easy as getting a knot into Regina’s—
“Regina doesn’t know,” he says finally. “Does she?”
Villeneuve’s expression flickers. Just for a second. “Not in so many words.”
“How many?” I ask.
Villeneuve’s lip curls back slightly. Now that look I know. Exasperation. Why’s everyone so fucking exasperated all the time? This school really needs a meditation class.
“I told her it was for her protection,” he grits out. “That’s all she needs to know.”
“But not that you’ll die if something happens to her?” Killian demands.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Yeah, she’s already got the hots for you,” I reason. “That’s the kind of shit that makes panties melt. Even Regina’s.”
“Because she doesn’t need to know.” Villeneuve’s voice is cold again. “The four of you sensed I wasn’t to be trusted from the beginning, and you were right. Surely you of all people understand how dangerous it would be for her if she let her guard down around me.”
“That isn’t your decision to make,” Killian growls, and I can tell the words are killing him because he wants to agree with Villeneuve. “Or mine. She deserves to know.”
“She has more than enough to focus on right now,” Villeneuve says, “including the fact that one of her actual mates is gradually succumbing to a brain-rotting virus that will turn him into her greatest threat if it isn’t cured.”
Low fucking blow.
Killian takes it like a champ, even if I can tell from the way that vein in his forehead is sticking out he wants to deck the guy.
So do I, honestly. We’ve basically achieved monk levels of self-control during this conversation.
“Regina is not going to find out about this,” Villeneuve continues. “Not from me.” His eyes shift between the two of us. “Not from either of you.”
“Dude.” I step forward, putting myself between them before Killian can do something we’ll all regret.
At least when the adrenaline of how fucking sick it was wears off and we’re having to face Regina.
I put a hand on Villeneuve’s shoulder in a friendly gesture he doesn’t seem to take as friendly for some reason, judging from the lip curl.
“We don’t keep secrets from our mate. That’s like, rule number one of the pack bond. It’s literally in the code.”
Killian looks at me. “The what?”
“You know, the Pack Code,” I tell him. “It’s sitting right next to the Bro Code in the room with all the books.” When he just stares at me blankly, I throw my hands up. “Seriously? Does no one read the fuckin’ Codes?”
Villeneuve peels my hand off his shoulder and wipes his hand off on his pants.
Dick.
“Bro code isn’t a literal book, you fucking—” Killian cuts off, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why does everyone always do that, too? “Forget it,” he snaps, turning back to Villeneuve. “Either you tell Regina by tonight, or we fucking will.”
“He’s right, man,” I say, crossing my arms. “It won’t even be on purpose. I’m a certified yapper. Couldn’t keep a secret if my life depended on it, especially not from our mate. All she has to do is that little thing she does with her tongue and I am fucked.”
Villeneuve’s dark eyes fix on me. “Is that so?”
My spine is itching again but I resist the urge to gulp.
“Then allow me to assist.”
The words register about half a second before the magic hits.
It’s like a hand closing around my throat. Not physically, since I can still breathe, but something inside me chokes up. My mouth opens to say something, anything, and nothing comes out for a few seconds.
“What the fuck?” I finally blurt out, grabbing my throat.
“What did you do to him?” Killian snarls, shoving Villeneuve back a foot.
“The same thing I did to you,” Villeneuve answers without blinking. “A simple binding hex. You’ll find that any attempt to communicate what I’ve just told you, whether verbally or in writing, will result in exactly what you just experienced. The words simply won’t come.”
My heart kicks up like I’m running drills in gym class. When I try to think about what Villeneuve just told us, it’s like my brain turns to mush.
It’s just like math class.
Okay, maybe not that bad, but it still sucks.
“You son of a bitch.”
This time, Killian lunges at him, but Villeneuve is ready.
They go down hard, Killian taking a swing at the professor’s head that the other man just absorbs. He throws an uppercut that makes Killian’s head whip back, and I can practically hear the DING sound echoing through the courtyard.
A few of the other students and professors on the lawn look and then immediately keep walking like they don’t want any part of it.
I step back because I’m not sure I do either, and right now, neither of them are anywhere near shifting. They’re just two dudes going at it in the grass.
But like, in a violent way. Not a sexy way. I snap a picture anyway, because it’s kind of hilarious and Micah won’t believe me otherwise.
This is definitely my new wallpaper.
Then I wince because I think Killian is losing. He’s fast, way faster than he should be with a virus kicking his ass, but Villeneuve is faster. He’s on top now, one hand wrapped around Killian’s throat.
“You should have left well enough alone,” he says, and I swear his eyes weren’t green a second ago.
There are dark veins around the sides of his eyes now, and green scales cover his hands, rippling their way up his forearms. Killian’s claws are partially shifted as he tries to pry Villeneuve’s hands off his throat.
Oh, shit. Villeneuve is going to kill him.
And I’m gonna get ripped apart like a stuffed bear thrown to a pack of feral chihuahuas for getting between them. Oh well.
Before the thought finishes processing, my wolf comes out, but the second my paws hit the ground and Villeneuve’s eyes meet mine, he freezes. There’s shame in them, which is new.
One second he’s standing there, the next he’s gone. Poof. Like he was never there in the first place.
I shift back immediately to help haul Killian to his feet, but he pushes my hand away even while he’s still choking.
“Hey, you okay, man?” I ask him.
Killian’s fist connects with the ground where Villeneuve was standing a second earlier.
The impact causes the earth to fly up in a circle around his fist, like a little bomb just went off underground.
“Killian.” I grab his shoulder, trying to pull him back. “Killian, hey, come on. Don’t go beast mode on me now.”
He’s breathing hard. His eyes have gone full yellow. The dark veins on his neck are pulsing again.
“That fucking…” His voice is barely human. “That fucking son of a BITCH!”
“I know, man. I know.” I keep my grip on his shoulder, grounding him. “But he’s gone. And punching the dirt isn’t going to bring him back.”
Killian’s fist is bleeding. He doesn’t seem to notice.
“We can’t tell her,” Killian says. His voice is steadier now, and the yellow in his eyes is fading, but I’ve never seen it get that bad before.
And I’ve never seen a dragon lose his shit before either.
It’s like everyone’s in rut, only instead of being horny, we all want to kill each other. Kind of a mystery why they ever thought it was a good idea for alphas to be in charge of anything.
“We literally can’t tell her,” he says again. “He fucking hexed us.”
“Yeah.” I test it again, trying to think about what Villeneuve said, trying to form the words. Nothing. Just that same invisible hand closing around my throat. “Yeah, he definitely did.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“Get in line, bro.”
Killian pulls his fist out of the crater he made in the ground. His knuckles are already healing, alpha regeneration kicking in, but they’re covered in dirt. This is gonna be hard to explain to Regina when we literally can’t say shit.
Fuck.
Does it count as lying to your mate if you physically can’t tell the truth?
I groan, burying my head in my hands.
This is bad.
Killian is turning into a horrible cursed monster from every wolf’s literal fucking nightmares, now even Villeneuve is losing control, and I’m magically tongue-tied to keep me from telling the one person I know who’s smart enough to fix any of it.
We are so fucking fucked.