Chapter 29 Nyx
NYX
That was fucking weird.
Thane’s been a raging asshole, high out of his mind, focused and confident. But nervous? That’s… new.
“Excuse me, Professor,” Lyra interrupts, raising her hand.
He peers over the top of his glasses. “Yes, Ms. Aldrich?”
“I think Ms. Byrke is in the wrong class. She’s just a freshman.” She bats her eyes, ever the considerate student thinking of others, but he’s nonplussed.
“Ms. Byrke tested into my class before the start of term. Now, both the Dark and Light Councils align with the High Council’s fiscal policy to sup—”
“How could a freshman nobody possibly test a full grade higher after one semester?” she protests, and Professor Malcolm looks at her again, perplexed.
“If you are so concerned, perhaps you can ask Ms. Byrke directly. After my class is over,” he answers coldly.
Lyra crosses her arms over her chest and stares daggers at me, ignoring the professor’s frosty glare at her continued disruption. “It’s just, if she’s cheated her way into your class, isn’t it unfair to make you and the rest of us carry her weight? The whole thing reeks of favoritism.”
The professor seems at a loss for words in the face of her audacity as he takes off his glasses and sets them down on the lectern.
“While I appreciate your consideration for my workload, I reviewed Ms. Byrke’s work personally before she presented her petition to the Board of Trustees.
If you are calling into question not only my credentials for evaluating her competency but my integrity as an educator, I’m more than happy to discuss that privately.
Perhaps we can invite Headmaster Church, who placed her my class following the Board’s approval. ”
The entire class is silent as Lyra fumes, hiding behind that same brittle smile on her face as when Killian turned her down. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Professor. I only hope she can live up to the high expectations of Dreadhurst’s esteemed faculty like yourself.”
“Splendid,” he says in a deadpan tone. “Now, as I was saying, both Councils are aligned in executing the fiscal policy which the High Council determines, as are the Lower Councils comprised of the Shifter, Witch, and so on…”
For the rest of class, Lyra and her cronies throw me dirty looks that I ignore completely, riding the high of the professor’s verbal sparring match with the entitled Legacy—even if it was only because she disrupted his lecture and challenged his authority, not because he actually gives a shit about me.
The best part? I didn’t have to say a single word.
At lunch, I listen as Tori and Evie tell Brynne and I all about spending Winter break at their coven house.
Well—covenstead is the more appropriate term, apparently.
The mansion itself belongs to the Hektreia family, but it also acts as the meeting place for their coven.
The more I hear about their mother, Vivica, and how she’s not just the coven Matriarch, but also co-head of the Witch Council and the Witch representative on the Dark Council, the less I want to meet her.
I have no desire to cross paths with someone that powerful and influential.
I imagine I’d feel like Frodo when Sauron realizes he’s about to fuck shit up at Mt. Doom.
Kind of like I feel now, when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up like I’m being watched.
I try to ignore it, but the feeling stays with me even as I smile and laugh at the Hektreia family antics.
I stay with them as long as I can, dreading going to my Chemistry 202 class where I now know I’ll see Killian for the first time since we drunkenly hooked up.
He hasn’t texted me. I haven’t texted him.
I may not have that much experience with one night stands, but I don’t have to be a genius to know that sneaking out before dawn means he probably doesn’t want to talk about what we are.
Which is nothing.
The moment I walk into the classroom, he has me in his sights.
God damn it.
“There’s my smart girl,” he practically purrs as I walk in and set my things on a counter at the back of the classroom. He follows me the moment I sit on the metal stool and my heart stutters in my chest, but I try to cover it by rolling my eyes.
“Hello, Killian.”
He props his head on his fist and grins. “A little birdie told me something this morning.”
“Was it to go fuck yourself?”
His smile only sharpens at my insult. “This semester is going to be so much fun.”
“For one of us, maybe.”
“Oh I don’t know, we have fun together, don’t we?” He winks, and I swallow thickly, turning back to the professor, an older Sikh man.
“If by ‘fun’ you mean me telling you to go away, and you ignoring me, then yeah we’re having a fucking blast.”
“Knew it.”
“Are you going to be like this for the rest of term?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to ask the professor for a different lab partner.”
“Good luck, I paid him off.”
“You bribed a teacher? A holy man?” I ask incredulously, raising my eyebrow.
“Okay fine, it was less a bribe and more a steady supply of a custom masala chai blend for the rest of the term. And if he wants to express his gratitude by letting me partner with the smartest girl in class, well then who am I to stop him?”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“Yeah, by me.”
He snorts, which makes the professor crook his eyebrow at us before turning back to the board. I try to stifle a smile so as to not give him the satisfaction, but he still sees it.
“I’m on to you, baby girl,” he leans close and whispers in my ear, and a memory of our drunken hook up flashes through my mind: him groaning into my neck as my body struggled to accommodate his girth, brushing his nose against mine before kissing the tears from my cheek.
I don’t bother answering, and we spend the rest of the class trading barbs back and forth.
But that glimpse of our night together plays on repeat behind my eyes until finally, class ends and I run out of there like my ass is on fire.
One glance back tells me I’m not wholly incorrect as the heat of his gaze follows me out the door.
By the time Milo texts Ramsey and I in our group chat that he’s ordered dinner for all of us from the Mexican place in the Student Union, I’m fucking exhausted.
Not from the increased course load, that’s a piece of cake.
I just hate being around so many people.
Spending Winter break with Ramsey was the closest I’ve come to feeling relaxed in… fuck. Ever, honestly.
The weight of all the shit I’ve dealt with today lifts the moment I see him waiting for me at the restaurant.
He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed and glowering at anyone who gets too close.
But when he sees me, his eyes soften and his shoulders drop, and I can almost imagine he might just feel the same about me.
I can feel my cheeks heating when I finally reach him.
God I’m such an idiot.
“Hey,” he says, pushing himself off the wall and straightening up. “How were your classes today?”
“I’ll live.” I shrug. “Yours?”
“They’ll live.” He smirks, and I laugh as we grab the to-go bags and make our way back to the dorms.
“We talked about this, dude. You have to wait at least a week before you threaten to eat people.”
Hs grins. “Even if they deserve it?”
“What could someone have possibly done to deserve becoming dragon chow on the first day back?”
“I’m pretty sure someone farted in my general direction.”
“Ah, yes. Off with their heads,” I giggle.
“See, you get it.”
People give us—well, him—a wide berth. It’s amazing.
Just as we get to the dorms, he lifts his head and inhales.
“Hey—before we go in...” He begins, and we stop off to the side.
“I’ve been waiting to do this all day.” His hand brushes against my cheek and I tilt my head back, leaning into his warmth.
When I look up at him, his eyes—even his cloudy white one—are full of moonlight.
He lowers his face and gently presses his lips to mine.
It’s the first time we’ve kissed since New Year’s Eve, and God, it’s just as good as I remember.
The paper bag slips from my hands, hitting the ground as I stand on my tip toes to wrap my arms around his neck.
It’s easy to melt into him when he slips his hands around my waist and pulls me into him.
We break apart at the sound of the door opening, and he hands me the bags of food.
“I need a minute,” he says when I notice the ring of gold around his eyes. “See you inside?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
He sits next to me at dinner with Milo, glued to my side, and kisses me goodnight at my door. I lay awake in bed, replaying every touch, every glance, before finally drifting into a dreamless sleep.
I’m so fucked.
I am soooo fucked.
Sitting in the same classroom as Roth the next morning in Runic Studies is like being on a sinking ship with the shark from Jaws circling me. And that’s before he chooses the desk next to mine.
“Good morning.” It takes a second to register that he’s talking to me when I realize there’s not one around us.
Can I just ignore him? Is that allowed?
“How are your new classes.”
What in the ever-loving fuck is happening right now?
When Ramsey asked me that question last night, it put me at ease. When Roth asks me that question now, I want to run away screaming.
“Uh, fine,” I finally answer, wondering if it’s too late to flee.
But my luck’s never been that good, because in the next moment the door opens as the professor storms in like a hurricane and flops down her pile of books on the desk by the lectern.
She reminds me of a magical Ms. Frizzle with her barely contained curly hair pulled back into a messy bun as she launches into today’s lesson without a word.
“I’m assuming you have some level of understanding of Runic Studies if you were placed in this course,” he says. “This level, however, focuses on the application rather than theory.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”