7. Chapter Seven #2
Zant is the other full-blooded vampire on the council, along with Darien and me.
He’s a funny bastard, so I let him slide when he’s annoying.
He’d be a whole lot funnier if he weren’t best friends with Parker.
I even backed his nomination during his first year because he talked me into it over dinner.
“Let’s start the meeting. I’ve got shit to do this morning,” I say. The impending doom of speaking face-to-face with my grandfather is souring my mood even more than usual.
“Agreed. I’ve got something good on the board today!” Parker’s grinning in the morning makes me nauseous.
“Yes?”
“What do we have to do to get new students into the culinary club this year? Emma wants to join. Can we vote on it?”
Stars above, I can’t avoid Emma at any hour of the day.
“It’s not a democracy,” I say, fighting the annoyance that’s already brimming.
“Oh, well, shouldn’t it be? Isn’t that what we’re elected to do?”
I fight an eye roll. But this is what Darien wanted when he decided it was a good idea to nominate him for the spot last semester.
Someone with good intentions on the council is a rarity.
I have to admit that it’s nice not being bogged down with the other Weres, who don’t care about anything other than their pack politics.
It’s always about gathering territory for them.
Getting their leaders into clubs and then using that leverage in the real world.
Parker is the only one who is completely untethered, unlike the rest of us, because he doesn’t have a parent on the board. Lucky fucker. Darien probably thought that he would be easy to manipulate. Anyone with a good heart is.
People like Darien and I are cut from the same cloth because his dad and my grandfather both sit on the board of directors of Doxlothia, which means we are the kings of bullshitting. We learned from the best.
“You still feeling okay? Sure you don’t need any more time off to recover from that gunshot wound?” I push, hopeful.
Parker is now doodling on his paper, even as he seems to listen enthusiastically. “I’m golden.”
Of course.
“You’ll have to make a deal with Dacre for that.
His grandfather owns that club,” Darien says next to me.
He fiddles with a silver ring on his finger that’s embossed with his family crest. Silver is their color.
Their whole family has silver hair, so they put it on everything from their stationery to their houses.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything.”
Parker grumbles, whispering to Zant.
“We still have two open spots we need to fill on the council,” Aria Hillard, one of the humans, says, listening across the table. She always keeps our morning meetings on track. “We’re looking for candidates. We’ll hold another election in the next few weeks.”
“Joy,” I grumble, watching the Weres on the other end of the table whisper and plan.
I never wanted to be on the council because why would I want to spend what little time I have outside the culinary world dealing with more politics and posturing?
But my grandfather hates free time with a passion, so I have none.
The meetings I attend every week for the company, on top of running the culinary club and attending classes, still aren’t enough.
“Owens, we’ll need to get you caught up,” Darien says. “I’ve got some people I want you to meet today.”
Parker’s meeting the board of directors, which is one reason my grandfather is stopping in today.
“Got it. I’ll do it.” He looks behind him, back at the Osborne sisters, all gathered at their table. He’s been protecting them since the day they arrived, and I’ve never been able to figure out whether it was because of the mate bond with Olivia or he’s just that nice of a guy.
“Maybe you’re too distracted for this,” I say.
“No. I’m ready. Let’s make some good changes. Go, team?” He pumps his fist.
“I like him. He’ll do well,” Aria says.
Everyone likes Parker. He’s the Rage team captain and probably has a loving family and all those good ingredients that make up a golden boy.
I start gathering my things after taking a bite of the croissant on my plate. Eh, a tiny bit undercooked.
A vivid rush of heat vibrates through every cell of my body at Emma’s proximity. I feel her before I see her, and dig the tip of my pen into my thumb. A good distraction.
“I need to talk to you.”
The table turns to look at me. Parker grins proudly, giving her a thumbs up.
I was able to keep her out of the culinary club for one semester. It wasn’t easy, either. There was a lot of talking and dealmaking I had to do, not to mention the money I had to pay. But it was all worth it because this exact feeling between us is what’s messing with my head.
I should have known she’d make a fuss this week after the news. The blue wisps of her shoulder-length hair dance at her collarbone as she swivels her head matter-of-factly, a subtle wash of cool color that contrasts with the warmth of her blonde hair and golden eyes.
I don’t keep track of what she’s wearing, but I’m confident I’ve never seen that shirt on her, a dusty blue Luxxia top, cut to show her cleavage.
I turn toward the table. “Excuse my rudeness. I’ve got a fan calling.”
“Hey!” she calls as I walk from the dining hall into the castle. Her scent infuses the air. I stare down another vampire who is gawking at her as she flutters over my shoulder like a bird.
How far will this reckless tantrum go? I’d hoped she would just give up and resign herself to volunteer work and the regular curriculum, but she’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, and I eat lunch with asshole businessmen every week.
I don’t have to look behind me to know she’s huffing angry, labored breaths.
This whole semester of her pestering me has given me a long list of reasons to hate Emma.
She doesn’t take no for an answer. Clearly, she’s never been told “no” a day in her life.
All semester, she has plagued me, showing up when I wasn’t expecting her and demanding attention.
Emma is a beautiful, tempting pest that glides around me with her glitter.
I stop, spinning on my heel, and she nearly stumbles into me again. Her saccharine scent fills my head, making me lean in to chase it. She furrows her eyebrows.
“What part of my proposal made you think it’s now appropriate to talk to me in public?” I scold.
“So it is a secret?” She smiles. “I knew it.”
Up close, I see her hands bunched at her sides, that self-assured pomp and frill decorated with that shimmery eye shadow she loves and the blue bow in her hair. So fragile and breakable, wrapped up into one dynamite package that looks like it wants to tear my face off and wear it.
Instead of taking a sunny stroll out onto the Central Lawn in front of the castle, I take the hall on the left.
Surely, she’s paying even the smallest amount of attention to where I, practically a stranger, could be leading her—away from her peers and professors and into the hall that’s undergoing renovation and restoration.
She’s not. She’s following me swiftly, her eyes brimming with energy at my every word. She pays no mind to how quiet it’s getting as we pass fewer and fewer people till it’s completely silent.
“Fine, you want to talk. Let’s talk.” I motion for her to enter the room.