Chapter 16 – REGINA
REGINA
The house is way too quiet without Killian and Sean.
I'm curled up in the nest with one of Eliza's journals, trying to focus on her notes about energy management in shifter-witch bonds, but my attention keeps drifting. The words blur together, and I realize I've read the same paragraph countless times without absorbing a single word.
Micah sits across from me, supposedly studying for his anatomy exam, but I can feel his restlessness through our bond.
Rowan's in the kitchen, reorganizing the pantry for the second time this week. The clink of jars and rustle of packages has become background noise, punctuated by occasional muttered curses when something doesn't fit the way he wants it to.
"Where's Killian?" I ask finally, setting the journal aside.
Micah looks up from his textbook. "Probably still making the rounds. Trying to convince anyone with a pulse and a faculty ID to sponsor us."
"Even though Villeneuve already agreed?"
"Especially because Villeneuve agreed." He closes his book with a sigh. "Killian's convinced there has to be another option. Someone less..." He trails off, searching for the right word.
"Suspicious?" I offer.
"Terrifying," he corrects. "The man freezes four alpha wolves with a gesture and drives a car fit for a supervillain. That's not normal professor behavior."
I can't argue with that logic, but the reality remains. "We're running out of time."
"I know." Micah's frustration bleeds through the bond. "We all know. But asking Killian to just accept Villeneuve as our sponsor is like asking him to roll over and show his belly to a predator."
The image makes me smile despite myself. "He did agree to let me approach Villeneuve in the first place."
"Yeah, and he's been a nightmare ever since." Rowan appears in the doorway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "I found him at three AM last night, reorganizing the weapons cabinet. We don't even use half that shit."
"He stress-cleans," Micah explains. "It's a thing."
"Apparently." I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I can feel both of them watching me, sensing the shift in my mood. "I hate that he's torturing himself over this."
"It's not your fault," Rowan says immediately, crossing to sit on the edge of the nest. "Killian's just... protective. Of the pack in general, but especially you."
"Obsessively protective," Micah adds. "Which is saying something for an alpha wolf."
I'm still thinking about Villeneuve's offer. The teaching assistant position, the fast-track to graduate school, access to resources I've only dreamed about. It's everything I wanted before Kyle convinced me to abandon my academic ambitions.
But accepting it means working closely with a man my mates fundamentally distrust.
A man who might be dangerous, who's definitely hiding something, who makes my wolves' hackles rise on instinct.
Is it worth it?
"We lost you there," Micah says, stroking a strand of hair from my face.
"Sorry." I force a smile. "Just… processing."
"Want to talk about it?"
I hesitate. The bond between us is still so new, and I'm not used to sharing my internal struggles. Years with Kyle taught me that vulnerability was a weapon to be used against me.
But these wolves aren't Kyle. And the bond makes lying pointless anyway.
"I don't know what to do," I admit finally. "About Villeneuve's offer."
Rowan and Micah exchange a look.
"What do you want to do?" Rowan asks carefully.
"That's the problem. Part of me wants to jump at it. The chance to study under someone like Villeneuve, to have access to that kind of knowledge..." I trail off, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. "But the other part knows how much it would bother you guys. Especially Killian."
"Fuck what it does to us," Micah says, surprising me with his vehemence. "What does it do to you? That's what matters."
I look up at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. But all I find is genuine concern, genuine interest in my wellbeing over his own comfort.
"I'm scared," I admit softly. "Scared that accepting means I'm walking into another trap. That Villeneuve wants something from me I'm not prepared to give."
"That's a valid fear," Rowan points out in a gentle voice. "Given your history."
"But I'm also scared that I don't have what it takes. That I've spent so long telling myself I would have done this and that if it wasn't for Kyle, but maybe I wouldn't have made it even if I had tried."
"Okay, now that's bullshit," Micah says in his gentle, blunt way only he can pull off.
"Agreed," Rowan says, smiling. "You're brilliant. You could run this whole school if you wanted."
"Sweet, but overconfident," I say, but I can't help smiling back.
"For what it's worth," Micah says slowly, "I don't think you should make this decision based on what we want. Or what Killian wants. This is about your future. Your dreams."
"He's right," Rowan agrees. "We'll deal with our shit. That's not your responsibility."
"But you're my pack," I protest. "Your shit is my shit now. That's how this works, isn't it?"
"Yes and no." Rowan moves closer, his hand finding mine. "We're a unit, but you're still your own person. You get to make choices that are best for you, even if they make us uncomfortable."
The words settle something in my heart. This is what I needed to hear—that choosing myself doesn't mean abandoning them.
"I haven't decided yet," I say finally. "About the assistant position. But... I think I want to at least explore it. See what Villeneuve's really offering before I commit."
"That's reasonable," Micah says with a nod. "And it gives us time to rip out his throat if he shows his ass."
Rowan grins slightly at that. "Exactly."
I squeeze Rowan's hand, grateful for their support. "Thank you. For understanding."
"Always." He brings my knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there that makes my heart flutter stupidly.
A comfortable silence settles over us. Outside, I can hear the distant sound of campus. A few cars, students chattering as they walk between classes, and the occasional buzz and crackle of magic from a freshman showing off. Normal sounds.
Then my brain decides to remind me of exactly what I promised the wolves in exchange for approaching Villeneuve.
Heat rushes to my face.
"You're blushing," Micah observes, a grin spreading across his face. "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing," I say too quickly.
"Liar." His grin widens. "I can feel your embarrassment through the bond. And something else..." His eyes darken. "Oh. Oh."
"What?" Rowan looks between us, confused.
"Our mate is thinking about fucking us," Micah explains, his voice dropping to that low register that makes my stomach flip. "At least… I hope it's us."
He sounds jealous. These wolves. Seriously.
"It's you, obviously," I say flatly, feeling my face grow even hotter.
"Thinking about that deal you made?" Rowan asks, grinning.
"I wasn't—" I start to protest, but it's pointless. They can feel the spike of arousal through our bond, the way my body responds to just thinking about getting on my knees for them.
Fuck, they can probably catch the scent of my blood rushing even if it weren't for the bond itself.
"You were absolutely thinking about it," Micah says, setting his textbook aside. "And now we're thinking about it too."
"This is your fault," I accuse, even as my thighs clench the moment he moves closer to me.
"How is this my fault?"
"You brought it up!"
"You were the one who made the offer in the first place," Rowan points out, moving closer too. There's a predatory gleam in his eyes that reminds me he is a wolf, for all his comparative refinement and the fact that they all try their best to keep me from seeing that side of their nature.
The thing is, I'm not even sure how necessary it is. Not anymore.
"You know, I was being sarcastic when I suggested that."
"Doesn't matter." Micah stands, stretching in a way that makes his shirt ride up, exposing a strip of toned stomach. Bastard knows exactly what he's doing. "A deal's a deal."
"Killian isn't even here yet," I remind them.
"He's not the only one who gets to collect," Rowan says, his voice taking on that smooth, persuasive quality that bypasses my brain and goes straight to my fucking nerve endings. "But we can do other things."
They're both moving toward me now, flanking me on either side. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I find myself becoming acutely aware of how small the nest suddenly feels.
"I thought you were supposed to be the reasonable ones," I say, trying to sound indignant instead of breathless.
"We are being reasonable," Micah says, settling beside me. His hand finds my knee, thumb stroking in a way that that sends sparks up my thigh. "Very reasonable. We're not demanding immediate payment. Just... expressing interest."
"Enthusiastic interest," Rowan adds, his fingers trailing up my arm.
I laugh, reaching out to stroke his dark hair away from his face. "Expression noted."
His mouth captures mine in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns hungry. I melt into it, my hands finding his broad shoulders, anchoring myself to him.
When we finally break apart, I'm panting. Micah takes advantage of my distraction, his lips finding the mark on my neck—his mark. The sensation shoots straight to my core, and a moan escapes before I can stop it.
"Fuck," I breathe. "That's not fair—"
"All's fair in love and wolf politics," Micah says against my skin, his tongue tracing the silver crescent.
"That is not the saying."
"It is now."
Rowan's hands slide under my shirt—one of Sean's, oversized on me and soft—pushing it up slowly. "May I?"
I nod, lifting my arms to let him pull it over my head. The cool air hits my skin, making me shiver, but their body heat surrounds me immediately, chasing away the chill.
"Beautiful," Rowan murmurs, his gaze traveling over me with appreciation that I can feel echoing through our bond. No performative flattery. Just genuine want for me.