Chapter 6
Oliver St. Grey is Lucky He's Dead
ELLIOT
Can you die from boredom?
My mother told me I couldn’t, but I’m starting to think she was lying.
We’ve been sitting here for almost an hour, and Dame’s been talking for nearly forty minutes.
At first, I thought it was just me. I don’t do well in pack meetings.
Too many people, too much talking. I’d rather have my tail cut off than sit here for more than five minutes.
But I can see Kitty nodding off on the other side of Dame, and I’m almost positive I can hear snoring from somewhere in the back.
I knee him under the table when his voice begins to drone, hard enough that he jerks.
“Get to the point,’ I mouth.
“Oh, right,” he mutters, straightening. “All of that is to say that we have received an inquiry!”
Voices murmur around the room, and a few people sit up straighter in their seats.
“This isn’t our first time,” Dame announces. “And it will not be our last. Most of you should know the drill by now. But for our first years, if you are unaware, the Inquisition is not polite. They do not care about your clan. And they most certainly do not care about you.”
“What does that mean?” someone calls out from the back.
“It means we’re about to get fucked,” I answer, not bothering to sugarcoat it.
Dame turns to me, brows bent, and I shrug.
“It means they will be watching you,” he corrects. “All of you. Headmaster Miltrewd is not a fan of this pack. That shouldn’t be news to you. So if you value your freedoms and your autonomy, you will govern yourselves accordingly. I want everyone to behave at their best until further notice.”
“That means no unauthorized potions,” I add. “No after-hours flight time. No summonings, no curses, no possessions. No fights with the Blackclaw wolves.”
A voice shouts from amongst the crowd.
“Yeah, Hodges!”
Heads turn, chuckling as they stare at Steven Hodges. A second-year with a penchant for starting and promptly losing challenges. He only laughs, shrugging off his failures.
“You think that’s funny?” Dame snaps. “Next person I see fighting better hope they die, because if not, I got next!”
Steven’s smile dies, and the room goes quiet as Dame’s anger ripples through the pack bonds.
“For the next three months, this house is a nunnery,” he declares. “If you don’t like it, let me know. I’ll cut your bonds. Or we can find you a nice spot out back next to Oliver St. Grey!”
I cut a glance at Kitty in my periphery. She’s already looking at me, worry hiding behind her rose-tinted glasses, and I nudge Dame beneath the table again.
He doesn’t acknowledge me, but I know he understands when the next words out of his mouth aren’t dripping with rage.
“You will all be called in for questioning,” he says. “And you will tell them the truth as you know it. Understood?”
The room echoes as they all respond in unison, “Understood.”
“Good. Now, Kitty has a few more announcements to make. Kitty?”
Dame gestures for Kitty to step in, and she begins to read off a very long list of reminders. Most of which are the same weekly reminders as always.
No potion making in the kitchen.
No blood-letting in the bathroom.
The usual.
Followed by the obligatory reminder that all common areas should be left as you find them. That one always seems difficult for first-years.
Kitty goes on, and I stop listening once she gets to the monthly chore list. But it appears fate is on my side tonight as my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Princess
I’m hungry.
That’s all the message says.
No hello. No, good evening. Just, ‘feed me.’
I shake my head, smiling at my screen as I stand and announce, “I have to go.”
The room rushes to get to their feet, and Dame stands, frowning at me.
“What?” he asks. “To do what?”
“I uhh…forgot to feed my…cat.”
He groans as I wink at him, but he won’t question me. Not in the presence of the pack.
I don’t stick around to see who bears the brunt of his irritation. Probably Kitty, if I had to guess. She’s the only other person who’s had as much practice as me.
“Oh, almost forgot.” I double back to stand before the room. “I claim Iris Ashbourne as my unmated partner from this day until I shall relinquish such claim.”
I speak the words as I’ve heard them before, and I know they’ve worked when the steady hum of magic pulses in response. It moves through the room like a wave, etching my decree into the pack bonds and tying her to us.
As I exit, Dame glares at me, arms crossed, face barely hiding his shock, while beside him, Kitty beams, practically bouncing in her chair, and in the back of the room, I spot Deacon sitting stone-faced.
What an idiot. He really thought he had a chance.
* * *
She’s late.
We agreed on midnight.
It’s now ten past. Which I normally wouldn’t mind. But the longer I sit here, the more I wonder why I agreed to meet her here in the first place. She knows I hate it in here.
It smells like dust and wet paper, with a faint tinge of desperation.
You’d think people would have something better to do than sit crammed inside an old building that smells like glue on a Monday night. But here they are, hunched over their books, muttering under their breath.
And here I am, glancing at the clock every few seconds.
Rationally, I know it’s only been about twenty minutes since I sat down. Irrationally, it feels like hours have passed before she sweeps through the towering double doors.
I smell her before I see her—that signature blend of honey and smoke. It clogs my senses as I watch her breeze past the drooling onlookers.
Hells. Do they have no shame?
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m staring too. It’s hard not to when she looks like that.
Iris is, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. From her round nose down to the tips of her long, sleek braids, there isn’t a single thing about her that isn’t worth staring at for hours.
She’s slender, but full in all my favorite places, and she’s so effortlessly sexy I understand the urge to watch her every step. But I know firsthand how their eyes weigh on her.
My teeth grind as the scent in the room shifts with the arousal of her many admirers, and I stand on instinct, meeting her halfway and tucking her under my arm.
I press a kiss to the top of her head and watch with a deep satisfaction as their eyes find something else to gawk at.
“You’re late, princess.”
She arches a brow, and her lip curls.
“And did you die?” she asks.
“I don’t know, maybe. Can you feel this?”
I pinch her ass, and she yelps, causing a few more heads to turn.
“Huh.” I shrug. “Guess not.”
She swats at me with the small stack of books in her hand, and I catch it, wrenching them free to leaf through them.
There’s a copy of Ten Thousand Trees tucked between two beat-up paperbacks by Carlisle Crescent, and I hold it out, shaking my head.
“You’re going to hate this,” I say.
Her mouth turns down, pouting as she drops her things on an empty desk.
“What? No, Kitty said it was good.”
“It is good. But you’re not going to like it.”
“How do you know?” she sasses, snatching the book back and shoving it in her bag.
“Because you hated Flightless Phoenix,” I say. “Which you still have my copy of, by the way. I want that back, you little brat.”
Her dark eyes roll as she hitches a hip and crosses her arms. The movement presses her breasts together, and I can’t help but sneak a peek at them as she retorts, “I’ve seen your collection, Cross. I don’t think you’ll miss it.”
“It’s the principle, baby. You wouldn’t like it if I kept your copy of Manhurst, would you?”
She frowns, and I know what her answer will be.
It’s no secret that Manhurst is her favorite. She likes to tell people it’s because of the descriptive writing, but it’s really because she likes the ending, when Evangeline finally murders Cedric. I wouldn’t be surprised if she clapped when she first read those last few pages.
But instead of admitting that I am right, she just mutters at me to stop calling her “baby.”
“Wish I could,” I say. “But we gotta sell it.”
I wink, and she doesn’t say anything, but I know it’s only because it’s hard to talk while grinding your teeth.
Iris isn’t used to holding her tongue. She speaks her mind quite plainly. But, before Saturday, I wasn’t aware she also had the teeth to back it up.
In all my years of knowing her, and all the times I’ve watched her tear into some guy who thought he could take what wasn’t his, I’ve never seen her like that. I never realized just how deadly she is.
Her teeth? Those eyes? The claws?
I’m almost positive she could have reached through Grey’s chest and ripped out his still beating heart if she wanted to.
I wasn’t totally surprised to see it, though. I knew there was something fatal beneath her perfect exterior, but I guess I didn’t expect it to remind me so much of…well, me.
“Cross, you’re staring.”
Am I?
“Sorry. Remind me again why we had to meet here?”
“There’s nothing wrong with the library,” she says, deflecting. “You’re just being a baby.”
I look around to be sure we’re talking about the same library.
The library with bats in the rafters and rats in the walls.
The same library that has ghosts who rearrange the shelves, making it impossible to find anything.
The very same library with old wooden chairs that leave splinters in your ass if you sit for longer than fifteen minutes.
That library?
“Right. And am I supposed to feed you with half the campus watching? Because I will, I just don’t think—”
Her fist comes charging toward me, cutting off my words, and I let it connect just to feel the little twinge of pain as her power pushes through me.
“Shut up,” she demands, her brown skin as near to blushing as I’ve ever seen her.
I only chuckle. She knows I’m joking.
She doesn’t like an audience when she eats.
Which is really too bad. It’s one hell of a show.