8. P
8
P
S tepping through the arched doorway and into the academy, I find it impossible to inhale a full breath of air. His words fuel my ability to put one foot in front of the other. It’s the only way I can explain it. It definitely doesn’t help that what greets me, steals what remains of my breath as my eyes dart around the grandeur that surrounds me.
I don't know where to look first.
Intricately detailed gray marble floors are framed with sparkling black tiles leading off in every direction. The pattern proceeds up both sets of stairs that run parallel to one another until they meet at the balcony that overlooks the entire foyer. Dark wooden beams and huge panes of glass decorate the upper floor, trailing down the staircases, but as I tilt my head back, it’s the black and gold chandelier that hangs from the ceiling that captures my attention.
I can hear the lilt in Professor Whitmore’s voice as he addresses our group, pointing out every little detail of the space, but I’m struggling to take it in. He’s talking, but his words aren't registering in my mind as I soak in the sights before me.
Curling my hands in front of me, I look down at my feet, panicking over the dirt that lines the bottom of my shoes. It’s not even dirt, barely dust, but I’m acutely aware of it and the mess I could leave in my wake.
I’m out of place here, I’m certain.
It takes all of my strength to push down the nausea that churns in my stomach as I focus on trying to keep up with the group, but my wandering eyes make it far more difficult than it should.
“This way will lead to the dining facilities, and the right will lead to the Grand Hall, where we will be visiting once we have finished our tour,” Whitmore explains, the sounds coming from his mouth finally registering in my brain as I follow his direction. “There are lots of exciting things to come in there, but telling you would spoil the surprise,” he foretells with a teasing smile before pointing toward the staircase as if he hadn’t said anything at all. “The staircases lead to a multitude of classrooms, which I’m sure you will have the privilege of attending come tomorrow. For now, though, let us follow the pathway leading out to the lawn, shall we?” he offers, turning without a backward glance, and everyone follows after him.
Myself included.
A set of double doors sit invitingly at the other end of the open space, a replica of the ones we first entered. Only, when they open, with no one present to turn the door handle, a shiver runs down my spine. It’s quickly eradicated by the brightness that filters into the room, offering a warm glow to bask in.
Stone steps lead down to the lawn Whitmore mentioned, and once again my gaze flicks around the space, trying to take it all in at once.
“Our sprawling lawn is where most gather to enjoy recreational activities in their spare time. The buildings off in the distance house the dormitories, to which you will be assigned later today.”
Everyone seems to be hanging off his every word, but I opt to tune him out, focusing on the people that fill the space around us.
It has to be the largest lawn I've ever seen in my life.
Maybe. Possibly.
I don't really know.
I just remember the four corners of Florentine’s barren playground and a fleeting memory of the meadows from my past, but that could just be a figment of my imagination at this stage.
This space is…it’s something. My mind swells with a sense of abundance I’ve never felt before. As if the possibilities are endless; my possibilities are endless. Like I could be free. As if I’m not alone. We’re not alone.
There are people everywhere and I’m overwhelmed by the sound of laughter coming from every direction. Excited murmurs stir within my group, and a tingle flickers through my fingertips as I close my eyes and focus on the sound of the gentle breeze rustling through the trees to the left. I’m sure S is basking in the positive vibes that echo around us.
Forcing my eyes back open, I focus on the lawn again. To my left, in front of the tree line, are multiple benches filled with girls and boys mingling amongst each other. Some are eating, some are huddled in close, whispering among themselves, while others are laughing and joking around. It’s all so foreign, and probably perfectly normal.
Straight ahead, people are lying on the grass, staring up at the clouds, while to the right is a group of guys playing around, running with a football. Not like they did at Florentine’s, though. There are actual white posts set up and people calling out orders, and is that…
A wolf. There’s a freaking wolf. More than one. Multiple. Holy crap.
A dozen wolves prowl along the football field, some listening to the people shouting out instructions while others seem to trail around the perimeter.
The taste of excitement ripples on my tongue as my stomach churns with something more than just fear for the first time I can remember. Mrs. Stephens wasn’t lying. Professor Whitmore wasn’t lying. I can see them with my own eyes.
So does that mean there are vampires and witches mixed among them as well?
Holy fuck.
I think I might pass out.
Taking a deep breath, I note the smell in the air is rich with flowers, and a sense of hope combined with a desire for wisdom that I've yet to learn. It’s impossible not to feel out of my depth given the fact that I have zero knowledge of what is going on here, but there is a part of me, a teeny, tiny part of me, that is intrigued.
I hear Professor Whitmore's voice grow quieter, and when I turn to follow the sound, I find him trailing to the right with everyone else a step behind him. S is sandwiched between B and T, but I'm frozen, my shoes nestled on the grass as wonder dances along my skin, threatening to send my emotions into overdrive.
How can Professor Whitmore expect us to carry on looking at everything this place has to offer when it’s already so much to digest. Tilting my head to the sky, I force my eyes to remain open as I take a deep breath. I count the seconds I inhale, and I count the seconds I exhale, repeating the motion again and again, slowly parting my lips as I let the warmth wash over my body.
I’ve barely been here five minutes and I’ve already experienced more emotions and feelings than my entire time at Florentine’s. It leaves me torn between excitement and panic. As if the fight or flight has morphed into sink or swim and I can’t decide which is the right option. One is definitely easier than the other, but that doesn’t always make it the correct answer.
Explaining it is impossible.
“Watch out!” Someone hollers, their voice growing closer. It’s the only warning I get before a force like a pickup truck collides with my right side. I grunt, my body stiffening as I brace for further impact, but when I find myself flat on my back, the grass tickling my fingertips, it’s not as painful as I expect.
Blinking, my breath lodges in my throat when I find what had plowed into me hovering a few inches from my face.
Not a man, not a woman. Not a human at all.
A wolf.
I’m surprised and speechless, but if I think the wolf is a shock, watching them shift in front of my very eyes is something else entirely. Their fur turns to flesh, animal to man, and I peer up at a face so ridiculously handsome, it must be another part of a dream. Regardless, the rest of the academy blurs into the background. All I can see is him, all I can hear is the ringing of my pulse in my ears, all I can smell is a woodsy scent that is definitely coming from him, and it takes all I have not to reach out and run my fingertips over his cheek.
Tousled brown hair sweeps across his forehead, his eyes a piercing blue as they burn into mine. Caught up in him, my gaze trails down, noting his shoulders are tense as he braces himself over me, fists coiled on either side of my face. Taut muscles travel down into what looks like a six-pack, when realization washes over me and heat rises to my cheeks.
I'm pinned to the floor by a guy, but not just any guy. I'm pinned to a manicured lawn by the most attractive guy I've ever seen.
His abs disappear where his body meets mine, and I become acutely aware of the fact that the limb pressed against my right thigh is not, in fact, his leg, but his third appendage. It leaves me dizzy.
Quickly returning my eyes to his face, I find a light-hearted grin plastered from ear to ear.
Busted.
He knows I was checking him out. The fact is written all over his face. There's no use denying it, not when I can tell he's enjoying it.
“You're new,” he states as I gape at him. The only words I'm able to find feel embarrassingly sharp, but they tumble from my lips nonetheless.
“And you're naked.”
He scoffs, the sound turning into a snicker as he glances back to where the football players are, before his focus finds its way back to me. My eyes don’t even dare look away from his face, too captivated by his proximity to willingly acknowledge we’re not alone.
“Florentine’s?”
I gulp at his assessment, unable to decipher whether it’s said with disdain or amusement. His facial features give nothing away.
“Would that be a good thing or a bad thing?” I ask, unsure where the confidence to speak is coming from as the darkness threatens to seep back into my bones.
Why am I trembling in anticipation for his answer like my world hangs in the balance?
He shakes his head, his hair flopping with the motion. “I’ll take that as a yes. I just find it amusing that you are more focused on the fact that I’m naked, and not the reality that I'm a wolf. A verity that I'm pretty sure Florentine’s have no knowledge of until they get here. Which was, what? Twenty minutes ago?”
My cheeks burn hotter under his assessment as he remains pressed against me, dick and all.
“The wolf is new, too,” I manage to rasp, and he snickers once again, only this time, his eyes seem to soften.
“You could be a wolf,” he states, as if the words falling from his lips don't hold so much weight. I’m not ready to delve further into this just yet.
“And you could be getting up now,” I murmur, glancing over his shoulder to avoid the shift in his eyes.
Instead of standing as I hoped, his hand reaches for my face, his fingers curling around my chin as he tilts my head back, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Where's the fun in that?” he asks, the words raspier than necessary. The glimmer in his eyes makes it profusely clear that he knows the effect he's having on me right now.
“Fun. What's that like?” I retort, quirking my eyebrow at him, and his smile grows wider.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I need to put as much distance between me and this guy as I possibly can right now.
“You're amusing. Say thank you and I'll leave you be.”
My eyebrows narrow. “Thank you?”
He scoffs like my question is ridiculous. “For saving you,” he explains, and I gape at him.
“You knocked me to the ground. Why am I thanking you?”
He scoffs again, the sound seemingly familiar from his lips already. “It was either that or a knock to the head from the ball. What would you prefer?”
Neither is on the tip of my tongue, but something about our intimate position makes it impossible for me to lie. Despite the desire that seems to ripple through me at his proximity, I need this to be over sooner rather than later, so I bite back the snark that plays on my tongue and clear my throat instead.
“Thank you,” I rush, watching as something flashes across his face. I can't decide whether he's disappointed or had enough of me, but either way, he stands, offering me his hand.
I take it without wasting a moment to consider if it’s a good idea or not, and he yanks me to my feet. He remains completely unfazed by the fact that he has no clothes on.
“Aren't you going to cover yourself?” I ask, glancing around at the audience we seem to have garnered. Not that I think any of them care much about my presence, but the spectacle he's putting on has definitely caught the eyes of quite a few girls here, possibly some of the guys too.
Definitely some of the guys, and I don't blame them.
“Cover a masterpiece like this? That's diabolical. I was made to be appreciated. I can't deny the people what they want.”
Once again, I’m left gaping at him, his ego growing larger than should be possible.
S's voice cuts through the air, breaking the stare off between us. “P, you're holding up the tour again,” she hollers, making my cheeks grow pinker as the blush spreads down my throat.
Pressing my lips together, I turn away from him, unable to stop myself from eyeing the dick that was pressed against my leg, and I gulp. Rushing toward S, I stop halfway, unable to deny myself another glance at him in his full naked glory.
He picks up a football that was lying right by where I was flattened and tosses it toward his teammates with a force that has to be…well, inhuman. As if sensing my stare, he turns to face me fully before walking backward toward his group. With a wink and a salute, he turns, and I’m forced to refocus on Professor Whitmore again.
Hurrying to catch up with the others, I exhale harshly, trying to rid the disbelief from my mind. Everyone is staring at me, T included, but I act like I didn’t just partake in such a spectacle.
Instead, I shake out my hands, roll my shoulders back, and fix my attention on the professor. I need to pretend that didn't happen. Without pause, Whitmore continues the tour, while I’m left lost in my own mind, floating through this thing that’s supposedly my life.
I might not have a single clue about what’s going on, but I can't deny that I'm more intrigued with every passing moment that I'm here.