Chapter 13
Thirteen
Felix
The library had left them nothing but more questions.
Felix, now back in cat form, the collar jingling, padded beside her to the dining hall.
He gazed at the rows of witches all dressed in their pretentious red uniforms. Some had their familiars sitting in chairs, others were lying at their feet.
A female witch closest to the front had a fox on the chair next to her.
The bright orange fox had a white bib with “cute as fox” written on it, wrapped around its neck like a baby, while it happily awaited the witch to feed it a piece of steak.
Kill me now.
Other witches talked amongst themselves, their familiars obviously too large to fit in the dining hall.
A witch walked past them out of the dining hall, holding his head high.
He just would be the type of guy to have a couple of buttons undone.
His sooty wolf lagged not far behind, eyeing them with curiosity, at least at first. Suddenly, the wolf stopped in its tracks.
The witch paid them no attention, but the wolf’s nostrils flared as it lowered its head, amber eyes dilating as if it had found its prey.
Before Felix could react, it lunged toward his rear and tried to sniff his ass to get a better scent.
He hated dogs but one that close to his ass was just too far.
Twisting away, a hiss ripped from his throat as he bristled his fur to make himself look twice his size.
There was nothing he could do in this form unless he wanted to give himself away.
The wolf froze, and cocking its head, it studied him.
It knew something was wrong. Of course, it knew.
For a familiar, it was surprisingly quite smart.
He primed his body to shift, ready to run if that’s what it came to.
The little witch put her body between them, even as the wolf snarled toward him, baring and gnashing its teeth at her.
What are you doing? She was going to get herself killed. Not that he cared about her in any way, shape, or form, but who knew what the bond might do if she died. Who knew what kind of magic she fucking used on him?
Felix rushed between her legs, hissing and flattening his ears.
“Fenris!” the witch shouted out from somewhere behind them. “Heel.”
Like an obedient pup, the wolf immediately sat down.
It had the gall to look innocent, even wagging its tail a bit when his witch paid it the slightest bit of attention.
It was truly disgusting. And to think that was what was expected of him.
Maybe dying wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if it meant he had to show his belly to the enemy. He wouldn’t die humiliated.
“I’m so sorry about that,” the witch said, his voice as smooth as his polished loafers. “Fenris is… protective.” The witch scratched the back of his head in a way that was meant to be attractive, but made Felix want to upchuck a furball on his shiny shoes.
She smiled. “It’s no problem.” She waved him off as if she hadn’t almost become a chew toy.
The witch’s attention lingered on her a second too long, looking her body up and down in a way that made Felix want to do the kind thing like releasing his eyes from their sockets.
And God help him, the way he smiled at her hovered at the back of his mind, like an unreachable itch.
A low growl rumbled through him. He clamped down on it, but it was too late.
She looked toward him, concern knitting her eyebrows.
Fuck.
What was happening to him? This stupid mutt and his stupid witch were far too close for his liking. His fur raised as blood roared in his ears, begging him to shift and rip their dumb heads off. Except, the only dumb one right now was him.
This was the bond. It had to be. It thrummed between them, her anxiety buzzing through him as if she had kicked a bee’s nest and sent them after him. His mind wrestled with his body, instinct winning over logic. But his body didn’t care. If the witch took even a step closer, he would lose control.
“See you round, Avery.” The witch said it like a promise, and somehow, by the grace of God, Felix kept it together until he sidestepped them and walked off.
The little witch gave him another concerned look.
Using his paw, he signaled to keep going.
Scents of meats and spiced wine filled the air as they wound around the tables.
Saliva pooled in his mouth. It had been days since he had last eaten.
His stomach rumbled at the thought of it.
A juicy chicken leg was not far away, and there was nothing better than ripping a piece of meat off the bones.
Maybe it was a leftover from their ancestors, a piece of carnal history he would be eternally grateful for.
The further they walked, the more her unease slithered down the bond. As they passed familiars, each animal turned its head. Some sniffed the air, others hid, and some even growled. They all knew he was different somehow, a threat. The witches seemed curious, then turned away. Dumb witches.
The little witch chose a seat at the very back, away from the proximity of others. It was far enough away that no one could notice them.
“Why are they reacting like that?” she said, speaking into his mind.
“They know greatness when they see it.”
It was a deflection, and she knew it. Rolling her eyes, she dumped her leather bag next to her.
The thud of it was enough to surprise him.
There must have been at least ten books in there, stuffed in like a clown car.
It was the epitome of pretentiousness. A laptop or a phone carried the world of knowledge at her fingertips, and she had both, yet she carried around troves of books instead. This whole place was pretentious.
“Stay,” she said, getting up to go get some food.
His fur bristled. This was truly a humiliation ritual. What the hell had he done to deserve this?
Students continued their dull chatter, their heavy silver forks clanging against gold-lined bowls.
They feasted on soups and breads, meats and fruits, all sorts of delicacies that made his stomach rumble.
She slid a tray onto the table, the plates piled high, the scent wafting under his nose like a poisoned temptress.
Saliva pooled in his mouth from his traitorous body.
He wanted nothing more than to refuse anything given to him by a witch, but with the way his body growled, at that point, he would have eaten the ass out of a low-flying duck.
The little witch picked up a bowl of something he hadn’t seen before and set it in front of him.
Kibble. Cat kibble. Mystery meat packaged into hard rocks. She’d brought it back from the familiars’ food buffet section of the dining room. Kibble, bird seed, whole goats for the dragons, and other shit, he supposed.
Absolutely the fuck not.
“Is this a joke?” he spoke into her mind.
She flinched in her seat, still not used to the intrusion of his voice.
Her eyes went wide as they met his, realizing he was completely serious.
Shaking her head, she pushed the bowl closer toward him, as if it would somehow change his mind and coax him to eat the abomination she had put in front of him.
He pushed the bowl to the side of the table. Close enough that it lingered just on the edge.
“Give me the meat, witch.”
She shook her head fervently, as if he had asked for her left limb instead.
“It’s what all familiars eat,” she whispered, looking around as if not to get caught talking to herself, too nervous to remember to speak into his mind.
Not only was she a witch, but she was now a liar, too.
That fox had been hand-fed meat just before.
Not just meat. Steak! He put a paw on her plate, pulling it toward him.
She pulled it back just as easily. Curse this tiny body.
It would have been easy to take it back in any other situation, but using his powers here was too risky.
“You could at least say please.”
“Shifters do not say please to a witch.” He would never compromise his morals for a morsel of rotisserie chicken.
Instead, he used his powers of annoyance. Letting go of the plate, he walked over to the bowl of kibble that he had pushed to the edge of the table. The witch followed him with her eyes, realizing too late what he was about to do.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
With a simple nudge, the bowl fell off the table.
She lunged for it, but was a second too slow before the bowl shattered on the floor, sending kibble scattering.
So much for keeping a low profile. But he wouldn’t live like this.
Not when meats were within reach. And just for good measure, he pushed a glass of water off as well. To really drive the point home.
They stared at each other. He glared. She glared. Dozens of witches watched the glare-off. She heard giggling.
Finally, with an exasperated breath, she pushed her plate of meat before him, opting to take a large swig of her red wine instead.
Felix purred. A small victory. The first of many.
He chowed into the scrumptious thigh meat with the fever of a man who hadn’t eaten in years. The little witch had a disgusted frown on her face that only went deeper when he started to crunch on the bones. It only made him do it louder.
The fireplace crackled as they sat in an awkward silence across from each other in the dorm.
All Felix wanted right now was a glass of whiskey in a chair that wasn’t built for a tiny witch.
He draped his long legs over the Chesterfield chair, having pulled it as close to the fireplace as was safe. He always loved the warmth.