Chapter 20 – REGINA #2
"That's not a fact I'm going to need today, or hopefully any other," I say with a wave.
They're completely fucking ridiculous.
Then again, I'm actually falling in love with all of them, so what does that make me?
Briar Hall is one of the older buildings on campus with its Gothic architecture and climbing ivy.
The third floor houses the Department of Ancient History and Occult Studies, which takes up the entire east wing.
Professor Villeneuve's office is at the end of a long corridor lined with display cases full of artifacts that make my magical senses tingle.
The door is open when I arrive just two minutes before the deadline.
Villeneuve is already at his desk, reviewing papers with the focus of a man who's been awake for hours.
Today's suit is navy blue, perfectly tailored, and the color brings out the darkness in his eyes.
I catch myself wondering how any of his students manage to pay attention to the lecture instead of just staring at him.
"Ms. Cook." He looks up with a tight smile as I enter. "You're early. I appreciate punctuality."
"Seemed like the professional thing to do."
"Indeed." He gestures to a chair across from his desk. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss before the day begins."
What follows is a comprehensive overview of his schedule that would make most people's heads spin.
Three lecture courses this semester. Ancient Magical Practices, Historical Blood Magic, and something called Theoretical Applications of Occult Knowledge that sounds both fascinating and terrifying.
Office hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Department meetings every other Friday.
Research obligations that seem to involve more reading than any one person could accomplish in a lifetime.
He explains my responsibilities with brisk efficiency.
Grading papers.
Organizing research materials.
Managing correspondence.
Attending lectures to assist with demonstrations and being available for student questions during his office hours.
It's… a lot. More than I expected, honestly, and I expected a lot.
"I trust this isn't overwhelming?" he asks, and there's a hint of challenge in his voice.
"Not at all." The words come out steadier than I feel. "I can handle it."
"Good." He gathers a stack of papers, tucking them into a leather portfolio. "Then let's begin. You'll shadow me through today's lectures to get a sense of the material and my teaching style. Questions?"
A thousand. But none I'm willing to ask right now.
"None at the moment."
"Excellent. Follow me."
The first lecture is Historical Blood Magic, held in a vaulted room that looks like it belongs in a cathedral rather than a university. Students fill the tiered seating, notebooks open and pens ready. They straighten and shut up when Villeneuve enters.
I take a seat in the back corner, trying to be inconspicuous.
The lecture itself is fascinating. Villeneuve speaks with the authority of someone who's lived through the events he's describing rather than just read about them. His voice carries effortlessly through the space, commanding attention without ever raising above conversational volume.
I find myself taking notes, genuinely engaged despite my complicated feelings about the man.
Halfway through, I catch myself reaching up to check my glamour. It's still in place—I can feel the familiar drain of energy, the slight buzzing across my scarred skin—but the compulsion to verify is overwhelming.
What if it slips?
What if everyone can see?
I force my hand back down to my notebook.
The glamour is fine. I'm fine.
By the time the lecture ends, I've filled three pages with notes and only checked my glamour twice more. Progress, maybe.
The second lecture is Ancient Magical Practices, in a different building with a smaller class. Then office hours, which involves watching Villeneuve reduce several students to nervous wrecks with nothing more than pointed questions and raised eyebrows.
I'm starting to relax into the rhythm of the day. This is manageable. Challenging, but manageable. Villeneuve is demanding but not unreasonable, and the work itself is exactly the kind of intellectual engagement I've been craving.
For the first time in years, I feel like I'm back in my element.
The pack chat has been surprisingly quiet. Just a few memes and an "accidental" selfie Sean managed to send of himself shirtless and flexing in the gym mirror. No panicked messages, no demands for status updates. I feel a swell of gratitude for their restraint.
Then I glance out the window during a lull in office hours.
A bear is watching me from the treeline.
Oh no. Not a bear. A fucking wolf.
A bulky wolf with familiar golden eyes that meet mine across the distance with an expression of guilty defiance.
I groan internally.
"Is something wrong, Ms. Cook?"
Villeneuve's voice cuts through my annoyance. I tear my gaze from the window, forcing a pleasant expression.
"No. Not at all. Just admiring the view."
"Mm." His dark eyes flick to the window, then back to me. "The campus does have its charms."
If he noticed the wolf, he doesn't mention it.
A student arrives with questions about next week's exam, and I help answer a few of the easier ones while Villeneuve handles the more complex queries. By the time the student leaves, I've almost forgotten about my furry stalker.
Almost.
I excuse myself to use the restroom, and the moment I'm alone, I pull out my phone.
REGINA
I saw you.
Which one of you is the fucking huge bear of a wolf??
OTHER NERD
Not me.
NERD
Not it.
Well, I know it's not Killian because Killian's wolf is jet black and nowhere near that thick. Which leaves the most obvious choice.
REGINA
SEAN??
KNOTHEAD
I have no idea what you're talking about.
I'm at the house.
Playing video games.
Definitely not outside the Spellwork building
REGINA
So how did you know that's where I am?
There's a long pause.
NERD
BUSTED
KNOTHEAD
okay FINE but in my defense
I got bored
and worried
and Killian said I couldn't come with so I decided to just
you know
lurk supportively
TOP DAWG
Bad dog.
OTHER NERD
Classic Sean.
KNOTHEAD
OH PLEASE. Like you didn't just ask if anyone had seen her ten minutes ago.
REGINA
Please don't murder each other while I'm at work.
KNOTHEAD
no promises
but like
you're okay right?
no hostage situation?
I stare at my phone, caught between exasperation and an overwhelming fondness that somehow often coexist.
REGINA
No hostage situation. I'm fine. GO HOME.
KNOTHEAD
fine fine
but I'm lurking supportively from there
emotionally lurking
through the bond
TOP DAWG
Sean I swear to the gods
I tuck my phone away, shaking my head as I head back to Villeneuve's office.
My wolves. I can't take them anywhere.
The rest of the afternoon passes without incident. Or at least, without any more wolf sightings. I end up taking my break late, since there are so many students with questions and projects they need help with, and by the time I circle back to Villeneuve's office, it's almost time to head home.
I pause at the door when I see him standing at an unnatural angle, one hand propped on his desk. The sight of the usually composed professor slumped as if he's barely standing catches me off guard.
There's something in his hand—a glass vial, maybe? He throws his head back and downs the contents, then coughs as he wipes the remnants of whatever it was off with the back of his hand.
I freeze, uncertain if I should announce myself. Before I have the chance, he turns and his eyes lock on me.
"Ms. Cook." He straightens immediately, looking like himself once more. Strong and certain, except for a few strands of hair falling forward over his tired dark eyes. "How was your first day?"
I hesitate, still jarred by his appearance seconds earlier and just how quickly he seemed to hide it. But the stealth with which he stashes the empty vial in his pocket makes it clear he doesn't want to talk about it.
"Busy. In a good way." I look down at the papers in my arms and walk over to set them on his desk. "Here are the term paper designations you asked for."
Villeneuve is watching me with that penetrating gaze, but there's something almost approving in his expression. "You did well today. Better than I expected for a first day."
The praise catches me off guard. "Thank you."
"You'll adjust quickly, I think." He closes his portfolio with a soft click. "The transition from coven work to academic work isn't always easy, but you seem to have the temperament for it."
I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an observation, but I'll take it.
"You may go," he continues, already turning to his bookshelves. "I've already submitted the pack's paperwork, but it might take a while to hear back."
"Thank you so much," I say, breathing a sigh. "Do you need me to do anything over the weekend?"
"Not this time," he answers, straightening his tie and swallowing another cough. "Same time Monday. We'll begin with the department's research archives—I have a project that could use your particular skill set."
I don't ask what skill set he means. I'm not sure I want to know.
"Monday at eight," I confirm, gathering my things.
The walk back to the house feels lighter than this morning.
The sun is starting to set, and lit up like this in pinks and purples, the campus looks even more magical.
The occasional bursts of glittery magic from first-years in the courtyard trying to get laid help with that.
Students mill about the campus, heading to dinner or study groups or whatever activities fill their evenings.
I survived my first day.
I actually enjoyed parts of it.
And now I get to go home to four alpha wolves who've probably been driving each other crazy all day with their worry.
The thought makes me smile.
I pick up my pace, suddenly eager to be surrounded by them.
To feel their arms around me, their presences brushing against mine through the bond.
To eat whatever chaos they've made for dinner and listen to them bicker about whose turn it is to pick the movie, even if it's guaranteed to be something corny and terrible.
I'm starting to love this weird little life I've carved out for myself, chaotic though it may be.
But I can't get the way Villeneuve looked in his office when he thought no one was watching out of my head.
Is he sick?
Maybe the vial contained medication of some sort.
Or maybe I happened to get a glimpse of his magical vice. He wouldn't be the first practitioner to make use of less than illicit substances to fuel his magic, but there's no point in jumping to conclusions without more evidence.
And if there's one thing this job is good for, it's keeping an eye on him.
Something tells me he hired me so he could do the same.