Chapter 5
CHRISTOPHER
“Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?”
The elderly woman pats my cheek, her gaze bright and dangerously eager as her eyes soak in the tattoos creeping up my neck.
It’s always a toss-up, whether the silver foxes will appreciate the ink or not. Since the moment I sat down, this one has made it clear that she is a big fan.
“If I was a decade younger, I would be taking you home with me.” She winks as if her age is closer to my mid-twenties rather than her eighty.
Honestly, it’s hard to tell with all the wrinkles.
“Don’t tease me like that, darling.” Ringing the accent for all it’s worth, I give her a cheeky grin, “You know I’ll be thinking of you the whole way home.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
Chuckling to herself, she pats her bosom with an emerald the size of an American quarter. Her watch is already in my pocket, but I’ve got one more trinket to go before I say goodbye to my first-class seatmate.
“Here, let me get that for you.”
Hopping out of my seat, I grab the Louis Vuitton suitcase stashed in the overhead compartment. Clocked at nearly ten grand, it’s a rolling trunk worth almost as much as the gem on her finger.
Lucky for Mrs. Fielder, I’ve already got my eyes on the bigger prize.
“My husband never once carried my luggage for me.” Dabbing her forehead, the old bitty gives my body another once-over, “Such a weak man. Even when he was in his prime.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Leaning forward, I clasp her hands with my own. Her eyes brighten, the soothing circles of my thumb distracting her from the slight twist of her ring.
“Loss? Oh, dear boy. That piece of shit is still looming the land, hunting for a second wife who will never live up to my standards.”
“Let’s hope he never finds those standards, yeah?” A comforting squeeze, the ring slips silently into my palm as I lean forward and press a kiss to both cheeks.
“Take care of yourself, darling.”
“Oh, I will.”
She gives me a grin and grabs her suitcase with one less watch and one less ring than she boarded with.
Nothing beats first class.
Whistling softly to myself, I grab my duffel bag and head for the cargo hold. My dark horse is already there, idling patiently while I finish signing the customs forms that let this gorgeous machine fly overseas with me.
“Nice ride.” The officer gives me a nod, his focus on the souped-up Ford Mustang rather than the international fugitive standing right in front of him.
The beauty of fake passports.
“Thanks.” Sending a quick thanks to Jasper’s tech genius, I climb into my ride and start the trek to Wolf Hollow.
The low rumble of my custom engine feels like fucking heaven as I leave the bustle of the city and head towards the nondescript coordinates sent to me.
Skyscrapers fade to prairies and prairies fade to valleys as I cruise along. The trees grow thicker as dawn breaks through the sky, painting the rugged terrain with beautiful strokes of orange and red.
I try not to wince as the road narrows and wayward branches scrape the paint of my car. Wilderness seems to erupt at every turn, the vegetation growing denser as the day awakens and birds go screeching into the sky.
The descent steepens as I accelerate into the valley, blowing past the entrance signs and rough looking bungalows lining the side of the road. Not a single soul wanders the road as the morning begins, but I swear I catch a glimpse of movement beyond the tree line.
The sun doesn’t quite make it through the clouds littering the depths of blue, and by the time I pull up to the college, pricks of condensation have started to form on my windshield.
Pulling into a prime parking spot like an absolute dick, I get out of my car with nothing but a cocky smile and a bag full of bad intentions.
Jasper would be fucking proud.
Resisting the urge to check my phone, I strut into the gothic-looking building like I own the place. Eyes linger and whispers grow loud, but I don’t break my stride.
Get in. Get out.
Make it look like you belong.
From the dumpy parts of town I’ve seen, this place sure gets most of the funding.
Built like a monastery on the side of a hill, Wolf Hollow’s one and only college looks like something out of a bad vampire movie.
Stained glass windows frame the arched ceiling while marble statues and glass walls offer glimpses of massive auditoriums and even bigger arenas.
Shrugging off the strap of my backpack, I slide out of my leather jacket and slip a pistol inside one of the pockets. It’s a baby firearm, nothing too drastic, but I’d rather go in knowing there’s some sort of insurance policy on me.
“Ah, Mr. Deville. Right on time.”
A man with a long grey beard stands near the entrance of the auditorium, his stiff posture and even stiffer beige cardigan making me think he’s the professor.
The students are still mingling in their seats, most of the back few rows already filled up with bulky bodies. A quick sweep of the room puts the women count at a measly two, a pretty redhead sitting near the front and a ginger scowling down at her notebook around midrow.
“Everyone, can I have your attention.”
The monotone delivery manages to gain exactly zero attention from the rambunctious students. Guys are nudging each other, the snickers coming from the backrow making me think there must be an alpha hiding back there.
“We have another new transfer this year. Hopefully this one doesn’t cause as much trouble as the last one.”
The redhead near the front row blushes lightly, her brows furrowed as she looks down at her paper.
It’s kind of cute.
“Needless to say, please give a warm welcome to Mr. Deville.”
I wasn’t expecting a splattering of applause, but the sudden silence is deafening. Scarred faces stare back at me, their harsh expressions hesitant, as if they’re waiting for a cue.
“We’ve never had a devil in Wolf Hollow before.” The voice slices through the room, drawing my attention to the back of the auditorium, “Have you come to confess your sins?”
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
But it did.
Green eyes, darker and more vicious than the emerald I stole this morning, stare at me with something that looks an awful lot like a challenge. Shrewd yet playful, I meet her stare with a smirk, watching the red stretch of her lips curve into a menacing smile.
The alpha has made her move.
Snickers ring out across the students, the tension diffusing as the hierarchy shuffles into place. I watch the men sitting near her shift uneasily, their gazes bouncing from the front of the auditorium to the queen holding her session at the back.
Wrapped up in the fiery embers of her gaze, I forget about the professor standing beside me until he chuckles softly.
“Your sins are no heavier than the ones already present, I’m sure. Please take your seat.”
And that’s my cue.
Swinging my jacket over my shoulder, I feel the weight of everyone’s gaze as I start walking towards the front row. The redhead is looking at me with suspicion, her lips pressing into a thin line when I pause near the empty seat beside her.
Green eyes burn a hole through my back as I pretend to weigh my options, casually studying the expensive material of the redhead’s oversized dress shirt.
I’m guessing wealthy boyfriend.
Mentally adding lover boy’s name to my list of targets, I keep going, past the empty chairs and the rows of guys who look like they live at the gym.
Cutting through the section right in front of Mrs. Alpha, I drop my bag at the empty desk in front of her and turn around.
Holy fucking shit.
Blonde curls fall over her shoulder, the buttery-yellow colour too perfect to have come out of a bottle. Big, puffy lips just begging for a cock to slide between them smirk back at me while a devious glint takes up the emerald flames flicking through her eyes.
“The name is Christopher, darling. But once we get better acquainted you can call me whatever you’d like.”
It’s the first phrase I’ve spoken in Wolf Hollow, and for all intents and purposes, I did it with my forearms resting on Calista Drache’s desk.
Dominance asserted.
“Of course he’s British.”
The redhead sighs loud enough for me to hear, but I don’t even register her words. I’m captivated by the woman in front of me, the woman wearing leather like she was born in it.
Scraping her nails across the desk like a cat in heat, the sexy fucking minx closes the distance between us.
“You look like a bad boy.” Her eyes flick to my hair and a purr slips through her voice, “And bad boys get punished in this town.”
I’m not ashamed to say it’s an eye fucking contest between me and Wolf Hollow’s top dog.
And I’m pretty sure she’s winning.
Licking my lips, I can’t bring myself to look away, “Is that a promise?”
“Or a threat. Whichever you prefer.”
Oh, she’s definitely winning.
Dropping my eyes to the open slit of her jacket, I barely hold back my groan. Bare skin bleeds through the leather material, the sharp point of her nipples all but on display.
God. And don’t get me started on her tattoo.
A smile slips through the mask of my alpha front, my eyes raking over the ink smeared clear across her torso. It’s fierce and violent, an intricate design that tells me everything I need to know about the woman in front of me.
“I quite like being threatened by beautiful women. Don’t mind being punished by them either.”
Heat flares in her eyes, the slight tilt of her lips telling me that was a good response. Green irises dance over the wolf snarling along my neck, soaking in the violence and ferocity of my own demons.
“Most men don’t make it out of here alive.” A pink tongue runs teasingly over the tips of her canines, “Especially if I have anything to say about it.”
It’s a good thing I’m not like most men.
My eyes drop to her lips. Dark red lipstick threatens heaven and hell wrapped in one sinful package.
This woman is the embodiment of temptation and I’m tempted to let her do whatever the fuck she wants with me.
“It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Drache.”
The formal title has her green eyes crinkling, the first glimpse of a genuine smile sneaking through her breathtaking features.
“Likewise, Devil.”
A chuckle escapes my throat, and with one last glance at the dragon draped across her skin, I turn around and take my seat.
A stunned silence lingers over the auditorium, shocked and curious gazes pinned in our direction. I don’t acknowledge any of them before pulling out my phone and shooting off a message to my crew back home.
ME: Calista Drache is going to be a problem.