Chapter 6 Avery #2
Ian tossed an arm around my shoulders as we approached the chow hall’s front steps. He took a big whiff through his nose. “Ah, the smells of nature and fried beef. Doesn’t get much better than this.”
I shoved him off. “You don’t fool me, Ian Baxter. I feel your beast all coiled up and ready to jump at the slightest provocation.” I pointed a finger in his face. “Behave.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Brody,” I whined.
Brody slipped an arm through the crook of Ian’s elbow, and my brother melted into his boyfriend’s side. “Everything’s fine. See? Look how relaxed and nonviolent he is.”
Joon chuckled and punched Nico in his large bicep. “You should try that move on Cynthia next time you see her. Maybe she won’t claw your eyes out.”
“She’d have to catch me first.”
The chow hall was bustling, the air filled with nervous excitement on the eve of the first day of camp.
Maple paneling stretched from floor to high ceilings where exposed beams spanned the width of the room. Long tables with benches were arranged in neat rows, an aisle separating them into two distinct sides. A buffet line hugged the left wall, and a nearby swinging door probably led to the kitchen.
All the white T-shirts congregated on the right side of the room. On the left, the black shirts of my Guardian class were interspersed with yellow-gold shirts—the uniform of the graduated seniors doing their second rotation through camp before being assigned to a real Guardian post.
Flanked by Ian’s crew, I attacked the buffet. The few dining staff on hand appeared confused by my presence. Out of the corner of my eye, I clocked some of the gold-shirted quads sizing me up—some with curiosity, others with thinly-veiled disdain.
Our group made our way over to an empty spot at one of the long tables on the white-shirt side of the hall, which was slow going because Ian had to fist-bump or chirp at about a dozen guys on the way.
Before I could sit down next to Joon, I was accosted by one of the males I’d been hoping to avoid.
“Baxter.” Cash sneered at me as he hovered in the aisle, arms folded over his chest. He, like all the trainers in attendance, wore the official uniform—black tactical pants, combat boots, and a fitted black shirt with the golden Guardian logo embroidered over the left chest. His dark-blond hair was shorn close to his head in a high and tight military cut, which I’d learned was odd for a lion shifter.
He probably valued projecting “military badass” over “stately lion,” though he was successful at neither, since all I ever got from him was “raging dickhead.”
I sighed. “What can I do for you, Cash?”
“Did you suddenly decide to join the Support Squadron?” he snapped. “If so, you’re wearing the wrong fucking color. If not, get your ass over to the Guardian side of the hall.”
I gave him a blank stare. “Meals are segregated? Really?”
“They are if I say they are. Move your ass.”
Ian glared pure venom at Cash while Brody stroked his arm. My tiger prowled her enclosure, eager to test herself against this asshole lion. I could let her. I could look Cash in his smarmy face and say, “Make me,” and then we’d see who was the king of the jungle.
But rocking the boat like that before camp had even officially begun was unwise. Also, I was hungry, my food smelled amazing, and I did not feel like dealing with Cash one second longer than I had to.
I scanned the rows of black and yellow shirts. Everyone appeared focused on inhaling their food, either oblivious to my dilemma or fastidiously ignoring it.
“She can sit with us.”
A huge male, as tall and broad as Wyatt, smiled at me from across the aisle. He wore a gold shirt and Guardian-branded track pants. His blond hair was long, the locks flowing in beachy waves around his chiseled face.
I blinked dumbly at him.
“Oh, give me a moondamned break,” Cash said, rolling his eyes. “First Blackwell, and now you’re fucking Kellan Crimson, Baxter?”
Ah. The fabled Crimson Quad. They of the six-million-dollar lake house. Top quad in the graduate class.
And Kellan Crimson was a griffin—the lone other mythic at school besides Elijah and one of only a handful in the entire country.
Kellan turned his intense amber eyes on Cash, and they narrowed into slits. Cash immediately lost his bravado. He grumbled irritably and stalked off to the front of the room where the staff table was set away from the rest of us.
With another beaming smile, Kellan motioned to me. “Come on, Baxter. Don’t be shy.”
Eager to be out of the spotlight, I went to grab my tray from where I’d set it next to Joon.
A familiar presence crowded my back, dominance and hostility rolling from it in harsh waves.
“I don’t think so, Crimson,” Heath growled mere inches from the back of my neck. “Back off.”
I whirled. There he was, dressed in his black T-shirt, arms crossed, his carved biceps flexing under golden-tanned skin as he glared menacingly at Kellan.
Aiden, Elijah, and Wyatt lingered in the cramped space behind him.
Aiden and Wyatt were dressed like Heath in their tight-fitting black T-shirts.
Aiden wore black track pants, while Wyatt and Heath had on black shorts.
Elijah had opted not to wear the required uniform and instead had arrived to dinner in a loose black tank top that did little to hide the snake tattoo draped around his neck or the chiseled muscles of his torso.
Aiden and Wyatt were, like Heath, glaring at Kellan as if they were ten seconds away from murder.
Elijah only had eyes for me.
My beast fluffed her fur and paced, ready for action.
I hit Heath hard with a pulse of dominance, like popping a rubber band against his skin. “No, you back off, Blackwell.”
He snapped out of whatever stupor he was in regarding Kellan. He turned those hazel eyes on me, the starbursts in them sparking with the golden sheen of his beast. “Killer,” he said softly, “come sit with us. Where you belong.”
“No,” I growled. “Are you staking a public claim on me like a cave beast?”
His jaw flexed. “That is not what this is.”
“Then go away and leave me alone. I’ll sit with whomever I want to sit with at meals.”
Kellan grinned. “You heard the lady, Blackwell. What’s this bullshit, anyway? Last time I saw you, Phoebe Atkins was parading you around like the prized spoils of a hunt.”
Heath slowly rotated his head to stare Kellan down like a velociraptor sighting its prey. Sandy-blond fur rippled along his arms, and heavy aggression leaked into the air.
But he had no response to Kellan’s accusation because it was a true fucking statement.
“Shut the fuck up, Crimson,” Wyatt drawled. His lazy tone belied the red sheen of violence in his eyes. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Anger swirled through my body. Would they say it? Would they announce to this whole camp that I was their Fated? Would they stake a claim over me like a piece of property?
A few tense moments passed, but there was only silence, Heath’s dominance saturating the space around us while Kellan kept whatever he had going on tightly under wraps.
“Enough.” My tiger pulsed her aggression again, careful to aim only for Heath and his quad. “Are any of you planning to physically prevent me from doing what I want to do?”
Aiden sighed. Oh, am I exasperating you already, Professor? “Of course not. We just want to talk to you, Avery. That’s all.”
“No, thank you.”
I turned away, ready to grab my tray and be finished with all of this.
Heath wrapped a calloused hand snugly around my wrist. “Don’t do this,” he rumbled in my ear. “Don’t go to them just because you’re mad at us.”
My beast mustered up a pleased little purr at the sensation of Heath’s hand on me. I flashed her an image of him looking perfect in his suit with his arm around Phoebe’s tiny waist. She growled angrily and snapped at him.
He dropped my arm as if I’d burned him.
I gave the others behind him a cursory glance.
Wyatt, looking surly and violent, his big shoulders tense and his green eyes tinged with red.
Aiden, wavy brown hair askew like he’d been raking his fingers through it, hazel eyes despondent behind his glasses.
Elijah, cool as a cucumber, posture relaxed, which was fooling no one, given his eyes glowed yellow and his pupils had slitted dangerously.
His focus had shifted from me to Kellan, which was not good.
If those two fought, they’d bring the building down around us.
“I’d like to eat my dinner now,” I told them patiently. “I’m very hungry, and this is embarrassing. Please leave me alone.”
“Fine,” Heath gritted. “But this isn’t over, Avery. Not even a little bit.”
I picked up my tray and stalked away.