Chapter 13 – REGINA
Chapter
Thirteen
REGINA
I jolt awake to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains.
Holy fuck—where am I?
Oh. Right.
Wolves.
Kyle's torn off arm.
Villeneuve.
My body feels surprisingly rested despite everything, as if I've slept for days instead of hours.
The elixir Villeneuve gave me must have been potent stuff.
My muscles don't ache anymore, and that bone-deep exhaustion that's been my constant companion since fleeing from Kyle has lifted, at least somewhat.
I untangle myself from silk sheets and pad toward the window, drawn by the crisp autumn light. The view from my second-floor room overlooks manicured grounds that transition into wild forest. Beautiful. Peaceful, even.
Until I see them .
Golden eyes watching from between distant trees. Unblinking. Alert.
"Fuck," I mutter, pressing closer to the glass.
The eyes disappear the instant I focus on them, like smoke dissolving. But I know what I saw. The wolves are still here, lurking just beyond Villeneuve's wards. Watching. Waiting.
I back away from the window, hugging myself. The enormity of my situation crashes down again. I'm trapped between competing predators. Kyle's coven hunting me from one side, four wolf shifters claiming me as their "mate" from the other.
And I'm caught in the middle with a rapidly dwindling supply of magic and no permanent bond to replace the one tying me to Kyle.
Speaking of magic...
I reach inside myself, feeling for my reserves.
Surprisingly, I find them partially replenished.
Not nearly full strength, but leagues better than the hollow emptiness of last night.
Whatever was in Villeneuve's elixir didn't just ease my physical exhaustion.
It restored some of my magical energy too.
Enough, perhaps, for a glamour.
I stand before the ornate mirror on the dresser, reluctantly studying my reflection. Three years, and I still can't look at myself without feeling physically ill.
I reach for my magic, carefully channeling it into the familiar pattern of the glamour spell. It settles over me like a second skin, smoothing ruined tissue into an illusion of unmarred beauty. The spell takes hold, and suddenly I'm looking at the face I pretend is mine.
Whole and perfect and a lie.
It costs more energy than I should probably spend right now. I have no idea how long this reprieve at Villeneuve's will last, and I’m sure it isn’t the last I’ve seen of Kyle and his coven. But I can't face another day—can't face Villeneuve again, either—with my scars exposed.
Yesterday's humiliation is still too raw.
I put on clothes from my duffel bag. It’s just jeans and a simple black t-shirt, but I'm thankful to have something of my own in this strange place.
My phone shows three missed calls from Cadence since my text last night, and one text saying “ANSWER MEEEEE” with progressively more and more unhinged gifs, so I text her back before making my way downstairs.
REGINA: Sorry, I was sleeping hard. Can I call you later this afternoon?
CADENCE: OMG, yes. You can call me NOW if you want, too, you know. I’m coming for your ass. I will drag you home kicking and screaming if I have to.
REGINA: I can’t right now, but I promise, we’ll be in touch soon, ok? I’m fine and I’m safe.
CADENCE: Ok, WHY can’t you call me right now?
REGINA: I’m about to have breakfast.
CADENCE: Perfect time to call!
REGINA: It’s hard enough for me to eat with my scars without trying to talk at the same time.
CADENCE: Did that dick not at least make himself useful and, um, fix that?
REGINA: Can’t be fixed. Glamours only, remember?
CADENCE: Ugh. Yeah. Speaking of that dick, has he shown his face yet?
REGINA: Yes. And it didn’t go well for him. I’ll explain when I call you.
CADENCE: WHAT!! You can’t leave me hanging like that! What happened??
REGINA: Later. I promise.
CADENCE: Fine. Call me later. Love ya.
Some things never change.
I love my sister, but she’s pushy as ever. This shit is exactly why I didn’t go straight to her. That, and I’m not putting her in danger unnecessarily.
She’d be pissed if she knew where I slept last night, too, and she wouldn’t believe me if I told her I don’t get a bad vibe from Villeneuve. A menacing vibe, sure, but a bad one? Nah.
Can’t say the same about Kyle.
The house is quiet as I make my way downstairs, each room more elegant than the last. In daylight, the place feels less intimidating but no less extraordinary.
Books line almost every wall, interspersed with artifacts that look older than civilization.
Everything screams wealth and knowledge accumulated over centuries.
Whatever Villeneuve is, he's ancient.
And obscenely rich.
I find Margot in a hallway, arranging fresh flowers in a vase. She turns at my approach, face impassive.
"Good morning, Miss Cook." Her voice has that same eerie flatness I noticed yesterday. "I trust you slept well?"
"Very well, thank you." I shift awkwardly, still not sure what to make of her. She looks human but feels utterly... not. "I was hoping to find something to eat?"
"Breakfast is prepared. This way."
She leads me through a series of connecting rooms to a sun-drenched dining room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking an elaborate garden.
The table—easily large enough for twelve—holds a feast that would put most five-star hotel buffets to shame.
Fresh pastries, fruit, eggs, charcuterie boards, and more, all artfully arranged as if expecting a small army rather than one hungry witch.
"Will Professor Villeneuve be joining me?" I ask, studying Margot's face for any reaction.
"The professor does not take breakfast." Her tone doesn't change. "Please, help yourself. There is coffee and tea on the sideboard."
She withdraws silently, leaving me alone with enough food to feed my entire former coven.
Another point for the vampire theory.
I fill a plate with food I barely register and take a seat facing the windows.
The garden is beautiful. Not the manicured perfection I expected, but a carefully controlled wildness.
Native plants mingle with exotic specimens in a way that shouldn't work but somehow does.
Beyond it, the forest begins, thick and dark even in morning light.
As I take my first bite of a strawberry that tastes like it was picked at the exact perfect moment of ripeness, I spot movement at the forest's edge. Not eyes this time, but a shadow—larger than any natural wolf should be. It remains just visible enough to let me know I'm being watched.
The fucking wolves again. Do they plan to camp outside Villeneuve's property indefinitely?
I continue eating, though my appetite diminishes with each passing minute under that distant scrutiny.
Part of me—the rational, self-preserving part—screams danger.
But another part, something deeper and more instinctive, responds to their presence with an emotion I can't quite name.
Not fear, exactly, although I have that in spades. Something way more complicated.
The dining room door opens just as I'm finishing the last of my coffee. I expect Margot, but instead find myself looking at a new doorway that I could swear wasn't there before. Beyond it lies a bright sitting room where Villeneuve waits, seated at a gleaming grand piano.
Magic.
The house itself is magical, shifting and changing according to its master's will. Interesting. And more than a little unsettling, considering he doesn’t seem to be the type of creature that can use magic to begin with. That’s pretty much a witch thing. Someone must have enchanted this place.
"Did you sleep well?" Villeneuve asks without looking up from the piano keys. His fingers hover above them, not quite touching.
“Very, actually.” I step cautiously into the room. “Whatever was in that cocktail you gave me could be bottled and sold. You'd make a fortune.”
A smile curves his lips. "I'm pleased you found it effective." His eyes flick to my face, lingering on the glamour. "Though you may wish to conserve your magical reserves until you've decided on a more permanent arrangement. You certainly needn't bother on my account."
I flush, embarrassed by how blunt he’s being, but I hesitantly let the spell drop. The familiar sensation of it dissolving makes my skin crawl, and I resist the urge to cover my face. I do turn my head away, though.
"Please, sit." He gestures to a nearby chair, turning his full attention to me. "Have you had time to consider your options?"
I sink into the chair, forcing myself not to fidget under his gaze. His eyes show no disgust at my scars, just mild interest that's somehow more unnerving than revulsion would be.
"There aren't many options, are there?" I say, unable to keep the bitterness from bleeding into my voice.
"A pack of jock himbo wolves has claimed me as their mate and my crazy ex-boyfriend and his shitty coven is still hunting me down.
Oh, and I'm magically bonded to said ex in a way that makes permanent separation potentially fatal for me.
So yeah, I've considered my options. They all suck. "
"Perhaps not entirely." Villeneuve begins to play again, his elegant fingers drawing a delicate melody from the piano keys. "As long as you remain here, you have no need to worry about either the wolves or your former coven leader."
I narrow my eyes. "Are you offering me protection?"
"The university has policies in place for endangered supernatural entities seeking sanctuary," he explains, his gaze fully on the piano, much to my relief.
"As a faculty member and Council representative, I merely facilitate the process.
Should you officially claim sanctuary, you would be under the university's protection until your situation stabilizes. "
“Is that what I am? Endangered? Like a panda?”
He smiles slightly. "There is no shortage of organizations who would jump at the chance to have a siphon in their midst. Which is why, I suspect, your former coven went to such lengths to keep you isolated.
So you wouldn't realize you had options.
" His fingers never falter on the keys. "But the matter of the wolves claiming you does present a challenge. "
"Do you think they're telling the truth?" I ask, the question that's been burning in my mind since last night. “That I'm really their…” I almost choke on the word. Saying it out loud feels horrifyingly final. “Mate?”
"It doesn't matter nearly as much as what you think." He turns to face me fully, abandoning the piano. I turn my head away again. "Do you think it's true?"
I stare out the window instead of making eye contact with Villeneuve, watching sunlight dapple on the colorful plants in the garden. I hate the conclusion my instincts are drawing, but I can't deny it either.
"When I was in their house," I admit reluctantly, "before I knew it was theirs, I caught their scents. They felt... right." The words sound ridiculous as soon as they leave my mouth, but they're true. "I was drawn to them in a way I can't explain."
Villeneuve nods thoughtfully. "That is a familiar description."
"So I have no choice?" I ask hoarsely. "The universe just decides I belong to a pack of wolves, and that's that?"
"There is always a choice, Regina. It’s a question of whether you want to pay the price." His expression remains neutral, but his dark eyes soften. "If you wish to refuse the pack's claim, I will offer you my assistance."
"Why would you do that? You don't even know me."
"Perhaps I recognize a kindred spirit." He smiles. A real smile. "One who has been used by those who should have protected her."
A howl erupts from the forest. Long, mournful, filled with longing. Another joins it, then a third and fourth, blending into haunting harmony. I wince, pressing my fingers against my temples.
"They're not going to leave me alone, are they?" I mutter.
Villeneuve sighs, weariness evident in his posture. "No. That is the nature of wolves. It’s both their most endearing and most infuriating trait. But even the Underwood pack can't get past my wards."
One of the howls cuts off into a barking yelp.
Villeneuve clears his throat. “Case in point.”
"Your wards are impressive," I acknowledge. "I've never felt anything like them."
"Old magic," he says dismissively. "Accumulated over time."
I notice he's being intentionally vague. Not giving me any breadcrumbs as to whether it's his magic or someone else's. Like whoever enchanted this house.
“You seem to know these wolves well,” I say dryly.
His mouth twists into something between a grimace and a smile.
"The Underwood pack has been a thorn in my side since they arrived on campus.
They are obnoxious and reckless, as only young wolves can be.
If not kept under close watch, they run the risk of burning the whole campus down—perhaps literally. "
I remember the raw power in Killian's eyes, the casual strength with which he tore off Kyle's arm. “How dangerous are they?”
“To campus property and decorum? Lethally.” Villeneuve's tone is dry. “To their mate? No.” He seems to consider his next words carefully. “Wolves are, if nothing else, chivalrous. Perhaps to a degree that will irritate you.”
I study his face despite my persistent urge to turn mine away, trying to determine if he's being honest. He has no obvious reason to lie on their behalf. And yet, he's not outright condemning them either, despite his clear annoyance.
"I'll talk to them," I decide, surprising myself. "On neutral ground. Just... talking."
As long as Villeneuve gives me more of those elixirs so I can fuck them up if they step out of line.
"I can certainly arrange that." He rises smoothly from the piano bench, adjusting his immaculate suit jacket.
"I have some matters to attend to on campus this afternoon. I’ll make arrangements for this evening.
" He pauses at the doorway. "In the meantime, please make yourself at home.
The library may be of particular interest—third floor, east wing. "
After he leaves, I remain seated, listening to the house settle around me. My stomach churns with anxiety at the prospect of facing the wolves again, but I need to get it over with. Running hasn't worked. Hiding is only a temporary solution.
I've spent three years letting fear dictate my life.
Maybe it's time to stop.