Chapter 13
Sienna
“Mating bonds,” Professor Hardwicke begins, “are essential to life itself. Without a mate, one cannot reproduce, and without reproduction, our species will eventually die out. These are the simple facts of life.” She beams at the crowd despite its lackluster response.
For such a petite woman, she holds herself with absolute confidence.
I try to pay attention to my first class of the day—hell, of my entire life—but the pinprick sensation of eyes watching me makes it impossible not to twitch in my seat.
This class is only for first-year students, and despite the number of students who were not admitted into Heartsflame this year, we’ve completely filled the seats.
A few students hover over notebooks in their laps, but most, like me, are either unprepared or don’t bother taking notes from the lecture. A bead of sweat trickles down my neck.
I hadn’t thought to bring a notebook to an academy. How am I going to graduate top of the shifter class if I’m behind on day one?
“You are all here for the same reason, are you not? To find your mates?” The mating marks trailing down the sides of Hardwicke’s face are a deep blue, mimicking vines that curl around the base of her chin and starkly contrasting the blonde locks tucked behind her ears.
Not all mating marks appear on a person’s face, nor are all species’ marks the same, from what I understand.
Still, she is a shifter, so the royal blue scar on her neck is eerily similar to the fresh wound on mine.
I guess Revyn had the right idea, even if his execution was shit.
Pain washes over me from head to toe, reminiscent of what I felt last night. It’s been coming in waves ever since I stepped out of my bedroom this morning. I close my eyes as nausea strikes and take deep, calming breaths until the pain dulls to an ache.
Fucking Revyn projecting his feelings. As if I’ll feel guilty about kicking him out.
He’s the one who should apologize for fucking me over again.
I don’t know what’s going on between him and Alistair Dire—if there’s history there that I’m unaware of, or if Alistair was merely waiting for Revyn to leave so he could gut me in my sleep—I don’t know.
It’s the not knowing that bothers me the most.
Secrets are what get you killed.
I smooth out my clenched fists and refocus on the lesson.
“I didn’t realize I was taking Procreation 101,” a girl beside me murmurs, her vibrant red hair shining in the morning light.
She smiles prettily at me as she clutches a brand-new, leather-bound notebook in her lap.
Although most students chose to sit far, far away from the wild wolf and her brooding shadow, she and Callum are the outliers.
Revyn, on the other hand, is sitting two rows back from me and keeping the rest of the class at a distance, further increasing my breathing room by his presence.
However, that doesn’t stop whispers from gracing my ears.
Females hovering at the edges of our antisocial bubble murmur about the smoking hot daddy wolf who tried to claim a mate last night despite there not being a full moon.
I barely avoid cringing.
“I’m trying to listen,” I say back to the redhead, honest-to-gods trying my best to focus.
The information in today’s lesson might be basic to nearly everyone in the room, but not to me.
The parents within my pack took turns teaching school-aged children, but we learned how to count chickens and hunt wild game, not the definition of a mating bond and how necessary it is for having children—which is in and of itself, not true.
There were many single parent families within our pack, some whose children were not born to them.
You don’t have to have a mate to raise a family.
But to produce a child?
I clench my fists in my lap. That topic wasn’t exactly covered in the Roane Valley pack’s evening lessons. The urge to glance back at Revyn hits stronger than ever, and I curve my neck and lock eyes with the shifter drilling holes into the back of my skull.
Not Revyn.
Goose bumps trail down my arms as Alistair’s eyes widen the smallest fraction, his nostrils flaring as he scents me. Gods, what is with the men in this school being so—so—
“You’re bleeding,” Callum murmurs, lifting his hand to draw the errant droplet slipping past Revyn’s bite mark onto his fingertip. “Hold still, or your wound will reopen.”
My eyes flick from the crimson bead on his fingertip to his eyes, their depths suddenly the deepest shade of scarlet that I’ve ever seen. “Taste that, and I’ll kill you.”
A smile curves on his lips, exposing the twin fangs he doesn’t bother hiding. “Don’t tease me with death, Wildflower.” Dipping his head, he brushes his lips against my ear. “I’ll come.”
I rear my head back in shock at whatever the fuck I just heard and rip open my wound.
Shit. Before I can cover it, Callum’s cold hand is pressed tight to my skin, soothing its throbbing heat with a gentle but firm touch.
He chuckles in amusement, smiling like he didn’t just admit that he’s freaky in bed, and uses his free hand to tear a strip of fabric from the bottom of his shirt.
“Allow me, darling.” With quick hands, he loops the soft cotton around my neck twice and ties a bow directly over the bite.
It’s tight enough that the fabric pulls when I swallow.
A menacing growl rumbles behind me, and my head throbs. “Revyn,” I snap, turning my torso with my hips to glare at him. “This is your fault, so shut the fuck up about it!”
He bares his teeth at Callum, already poised to leap the few feet between them and attack. A few full moons ago, that was the very behavior that made me swoon.
How quickly things change.
“Gentlemen,” Professor Hardwicke interrupts, her smile as sharp as Revyn’s as she climbs the empty seats to our row.
“We do not fight over mates in class. You may express your interest in Miss—” She falters at my last name like all shifters other than the headmaster.
“Well, there are designated times for such outbursts. This is not one of them.”
“That’s alright, Professor. I never expected a wild wolf to adhere to custom.” Shadows swirl in Callum’s ruby eyes. “I’m curious if his blood is as rotten as his temper. Do you know, Sienna?”
Heat stings my cheeks. Callum can’t possibly know that I tasted Revyn’s blood last night unless he was there.
Or maybe he’s guessing. It’s not exactly a secret that Revyn and I have history.
He could have been in the hallway when I kicked Revyn out of my room, too, or making an assumption that because Revyn bit me, I must have bitten him, too.
Regardless of how Callum knows, I still answer. “He tastes like the sun,” I admit softly, my gaze lingering on Revyn’s lips. “And the wind before a storm, and the earth when it rains . . .” My voice catches as I keep the rest to myself.
He tastes like the wilds . . . He tastes like home.
Clearing my throat, I tear my gaze away, narrowly avoiding the chasm of sorrow in Revyn’s eyes.
I feel it all the same, like a stone weighing down my lungs.
Thankfully, Hardwicke resumes the lesson as though it never paused.
My neck aches, the wound burning as it attempts to heal.
Why couldn’t I have been born with normal gifts and heal like all the other shifters in the world?
Why do I have to be different?
Callum stares at his open palm resting lightly in his lap. My blood covers his hand and sinks into the grooves on his ivory skin.
Careful not to draw our professor’s attention, I whisper, “I didn’t mean to bleed on you.”
A slow, sinful smile curls on Callum’s lips. “Oh, Wildflower . . .” He takes a deep breath, and I spot the faintest bit of color hiding beneath his collar. Is he . . . blushing? Can vampires blush?
“This is a gift.” He stretches his legs until our thighs touch, then rests his arm where they meet.
The possessive curl of his palm over my knee does not go unnoticed, but I let it linger, curious of his intentions.
He does not take it any further and merely brushes his thumb across my bare skin. “Do not apologize.”
I stare at the faint, bloody handprint that remains when Callum retracts his arm. My scent fills the air, and I catch more than one neighboring student breathing deep, including Callum . . . and Revyn.
Fuck me.
Embarrassment makes me blush. I’ve never wanted to die more than this exact moment.
Callum chuckles like he’s enjoying my misery. The fucking bastard.
Leaning into my side, he whispers in my ear.
“Your heart’s pounding, Wildflower.” Sliding his palm over mine, he laces our fingers together.
A wave of magic, subtle but effective, pulses out from our joined hands.
Suddenly, I can no longer sense Revyn’s brooding at my back or Alistair’s burning stare from across the room.
Everything goes blissfully silent, and I’m able to focus on the lesson at hand.
“Thank you,” I murmur, knowing that Callum can hear me.
He squeezes my hand, reminding me that we’re still locked together. “I will bestow many gifts to you, Sienna.” Our eyes meet, and my heart flips at the sincerity in his gaze. “There will never be a need to say thank you.” Releasing my hand, he maintains the shield as the lecture continues.
I stretch my chilled fingers.
Unlike Revyn and Alistair’s touch, Callum’s remains cold. Soothing rather than scorching. Questions roll through my mind like a fog, making it impossible to focus on Hardwicke’s lesson.
How old is Callum? How long do vampires live? If he’s really old, why hasn’t he found a mate yet? Or can vampires mate more than once? Shifters can’t, as far as I’m aware, but I guess I’ve never thought to ask—nor had anyone to ask—
Callum starts humming a tune that tickles my mind. He taps the familiar beat on my thigh, more than happy to continue distracting me from today’s lesson. I bite my lip and quickly add a third mantra to my daily affirmations.
I deserve more than Revyn can give me.
I am not here to find a mate.
Under no circumstances am I allowed to befriend a vampire, no matter how badly I need a friend in this place or how close we become from our deal.
Taking a breath, I lean closer to the pretty redhead. I think she’s a witch, and that doesn’t seem nearly as dangerous as a master of illusions. “Hey, my name’s Sienna.”
Her gaze flicks from a blond boy whose skin sparkles like diamond dust. “Gemma,” she says softly, offering a small smile. “Want to join me for drinks after classes are over? You look like you need one. No offense.”
“No boys allowed?”
She laughs. “None.”
I nearly drown in relief. “That sounds fucking perfect.”
Callum’s chuckle barely holds any breath, yet it tickles my cheek all the same. “I am a man, Sienna. Restate your parameters unless you want further company tonight.”
“No men of any kind,” I clarify abruptly. “No would-be-mates or alphas or vampires allowed, especially if their names are Callum Navarro, Alistair Dire, or Revyn Malus.”
The seat behind me creaks as Revyn leans forward and plants the sole of his boot on the edge of mine. His breath rustles my hair. “I won’t give up, Sienna.”
I hold my breath until he leans back, putting as much distance between us as he can stand, which isn’t much. Exhaling slowly, I count to ten in my head before replying in a whisper I know he can hear. “That’s not an apology.”
There’s a beat of silence before he sighs. “No, it’s not.”
A sad smile curves on my lips.
At least he’s being honest for once.