Chapter 16 – Billie
Sixteen
BILLIE
My boots track a clean line across the stone path as I navigate through clusters of students who still pause their conversations to stare when I pass.
Day two of supernatural university, and I'm already considering whether throwing myself off one of those floating bridges in the distance would be less painful than enduring another omega biology lecture.
At least the whispers have died down to a manageable buzz.
No one's tried to trip me on any stairs this morning, which I'm counting as a win.
Baby Blue Ruffles, whose actual name I've since discovered is Brittany, and her pastel posse gave me a wide berth at breakfast, though they shot enough venomous looks my way to kill a small army.
Isabella must have put the word out that I'm not worth their time. Yet.
The thought should comfort me, but it doesn't. Because eventually, someone's going to figure out that I am, in fact, interested in Prince Corvinus. Just not in the way they think. And when that happens, all bets are off anyway.
I can't stop thinking about yesterday's encounter with Caelyx.
The way he'd cornered me against that wall, close enough that I could count his eyelashes if I'd been stupid enough to try.
The way his voice dropped when he'd called me dangerous, like it was a compliment instead of an accusation.
The way my body responded to his proximity.
Fucking suppressants. They must be messing with my head, making me react to things I have no business reacting to.
That's the only explanation for why I can still smell him on my clothes even though I changed this morning.
Lightning and dark chocolate wrapped in a package that could make the hunter saints reconsider their vows.
No. Absolutely not. I need to stay as far away from him as possible. He's already suspicious, already poking at the edges of my cover story. One more encounter like yesterday and he'll have me figured out faster than you can say "attempted regicide."
Which is why I'm heading to the registrar's office at the crack of dawn, hoping to catch someone before the bureaucratic nightmare that is Fae administration fully awakens.
There has to be a way to change my schedule, to minimize the chances of running into him again.
Maybe claim a conflict with my delicate omega sensibilities or whatever bullshit excuse they'll buy.
The office is tucked away in one of the older buildings, made of stone and narrow windows that make it feel more like a fortress than an administrative center.
The heavy wooden door creaks when I push it open, revealing a space that looks like it hasn't been updated since the university was founded.
A Fae woman sits behind a massive desk made out of marble, her dark hair twisted into a tight bun. She doesn't look up when I approach, just continues scratching away at some document with a pen that has an actual quill.
"Excuse me," I say, trying to inject the right amount of demure omega uncertainty into my voice. "I'd like to request a schedule change?"
She looks up, and her expression suggests I've just asked her to perform open heart surgery with a spoon. "A schedule change? The semester is well underway."
"I know, but I just arrived yesterday and—"
"Your classes were assigned based on your placement examination and omega designation requirements." She returns to her writing, clearly considering the conversation over. "Changes are not permitted after the first week of the term."
"But I haven't even been here a full week yet," I point out, frustration creeping into my voice despite my best efforts. "Surely there's some flexibility for new students who—"
"There is not." She doesn't even look up this time. "Your schedule is locked. Any changes would require approval from the department heads, your academic advisor, and the Omega Affairs office. The process takes approximately six to eight weeks."
Six to eight weeks. By then, I'll either have completed my mission or been discovered and executed for treason. Neither scenario requires a schedule change.
"This is ridiculous," I mutter, forgetting to play the grateful omega for a moment. "I'm trying to avoid—"
"Personal conflicts are not grounds for academic restructuring." She finally looks at me again, and her smile is about as warm as a glacier. "If you're having difficulties with another student, I suggest you speak with your dormitory advisor. Good day."
The dismissal is clear. I want to argue, want to slam my hands on her precious antique desk and explain that I'm trying to avoid a prince who can apparently smell lies and has taken an unhealthy interest in whether I'm here to murder his brother.
But that would probably raise more red flags than a royal parade.
"Right. Thanks for nothing," I say under my breath, turning to leave.
"What was that?" Her voice sharpens.
"I said thanks for your time." I force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and head for the door.
I yank it open with more force than necessary, and slam directly into what feels like a wall of muscle wrapped in expensive fabric.
"Whoa there," a voice says, hands steadying me before I can stumble backward. "Someone's in a hurry."
I look up, ready to apologize or tell whoever it is to watch where they're going, depending on my mood in the next half second, and freeze.
He's tall, maybe six-five, with a body that suggests he could bench press a car without breaking a sweat.
Sandy brown hair falls across his forehead in a way that should look messy but instead looks like he has a personal stylist hiding in his pocket.
But it's his eyes that make my breath catch.
Green. Not the pale, washed-out green of the perfectly manicured lawns and gardens covering the campus, but deep forest green with flecks of gold that catch the light.
There's something familiar about those eyes. It makes my spine prickle, but when I try to place it, that prickle turns to pain.
He's not Fae. I know that immediately. He's too solid, too present in a way the Fae never are.
They always seem like they're half in this world and half in another, but this guy is all here, taking up space like he has every right to it.
The energy rolling off him makes my skin tingle. Shifter, maybe?
And his scent…
Clean rain and earth, like the forest after a storm.
It makes me want to lean in closer, which is exactly why I take a step back.
"You okay?" he asks, and his voice is warm honey dripping over me. His hands are still on my arms, steadying me even though I'm perfectly capable of standing on my own.
"I'm fine," I say, shrugging out of his grip. "Sorry. Wasn't watching where I was going."
"Must have been some meeting to have you running out of there like the building's on fire." His smile is easy. Friendly in a way that immediately makes me suspicious. No one at this university has been friendly without an agenda.
"Fruitless quest," I mutter, trying to step around him.
He moves with me, not blocking my path exactly, but not getting out of the way either. "Let me guess. Roommate troubles?"
I snort before I can stop myself. "My roommate would sooner stab me than lend me a spare pen, but no. I was trying to change my schedule."
He laughs, and the sound is rich and genuine. "Ah, well, there's your problem. This is a Fae-run university. They're not exactly known for their flexibility when it comes to rules and regulations."
"Yeah, I'm getting that." I study him, trying to figure out what his angle is. Everyone here has an angle. "Look, I appreciate the sympathy, but I really need to get to class."
"Of course." But he doesn't move. Instead, he extends a hand. "I'm Tallon, by the way. Tallon Fairfax."
The name chokes the breath out of me.
Tallon Fairfax.
One third of the Golden Triad.
The mysterious familiar Isabella had mentioned along with Prince Corvinus and Professor Drakiss.
And here he is, standing in front of me with that easy smile and those strangely familiar eyes, acting like we're just two students having a casual morning chat.
One of the two alphas soul-bonded to the prince I'm here to kill.
But also, potentially, my ticket to getting close to Corvinus.
I realize I've been staring at his outstretched hand for too long. Slowly, I reach out and shake it, trying not to notice how his grip is firm but gentle, how his skin is warmer than it should be.
"Billie," I say, watching his face carefully for any sign of recognition.
His smile widens, but there's something in those green eyes that tells me he knew exactly who I was before I said anything. "Billie Moreau. You're the new student everyone's been talking about. The hunter."
The way he says it, casual and without judgment, throws me off balance. Everyone else whispers the word like it's a curse or spits it out like something bitter. But from him, it's just a fact. The sky is blue, water is wet, Billie is a hunter.
"Former hunter," I correct, playing along with whatever game this is. "Current omega and professional disappointment to my family."
He laughs again. "Well, you're in good company here. Half the students here are disappointments to their families in one way or another."
"Somehow I doubt your family is disappointed in you." The words slip out before I can stop them.
"You'd be surprised." He tilts his head, studying me with those unsettling green eyes. "So you've heard of me?"
I laugh, and it comes out more bitter than I intended. "Hasn't everyone? As a matter of fact, I've been explicitly warned to stay away from you."
His eyebrows rise toward his hairline, and his smile turns into something closer to a smirk. "Is that so? By whom, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Isabella Larue." I watch his face carefully as I say her name. "She seems quite confident that you belong to her. All three of you."
The laugh that escapes him is bright and delighted in a way that would probably send Isabella into a murderous rage. "Does she now? Well, she's certainly confident. I'll give her that."
"Confidence seems to be her strong suit."
"Among other things." He leans against the doorframe, completely at ease despite the early morning traffic of students starting to flow around us. "But Isabella can get in line with all the others who think they have some claim on me or my triad."
The casual dismissal of Isabella's claim is interesting. Either he's completely oblivious to her machinations, which seems unlikely, or he just doesn't care. Given the power dynamics at play here, I'm betting on the latter.
"Well," I say, trying to edge past him again, "I'd better not take up any more of your time. Isabella might pour out of a crack in the wall any minute, and I've already met my quota for omega confrontations this week."
"Wait." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small envelope. The paper is black, expensive-looking, with a seal pressed into the wax that makes my brain itch in that way I've already become absolutely sick of. "Here."
I take it carefully, half expecting it to burn my fingers. "What's this?"
"Open it."
I break the seal, and the moment I unfold the paper, golden text appears on the surface like someone's writing it at this moment. An address I don't recognize and a time. Tomorrow evening, midnight.
"It's an invitation," he says when I look up at him questioningly. "To a party we're throwing tomorrow night."
"We?" But I already know the answer.
"The triad." He pushes off from the doorframe, and suddenly he's closer than he was before. Not crowding me like Caelyx did yesterday, but close enough that I can feel the warmth of him. "You should come."
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to refuse. This is too easy, too convenient. One of Corvinus's triad just happening to run into me and invite me to a party where the prince will presumably be? It reeks of a setup.
But this is also exactly what I need. A chance to get close to Corvinus in a social setting, to start working whatever omega magic I supposedly have to get past his defenses. The thought makes my skin crawl, but I've done worse things in the name of completing a mission.
Maybe not more humiliating things, but objectively worse.
"I don't know," I say, aiming for uncertain rather than suspicious. "I'm not really the party type. And if Isabella finds out..."
"I can introduce you to the right people," he says, and there's something earnest in his voice that almost makes me believe he actually wants to help. "People who can make sure Isabella and her ilk don't cause you any problems here."
The offer is too good to pass up, even if it is a trap. I need allies, or at least people who think I'm too insignificant to be a threat. And if this gets me in the same room as Corvinus...
"Okay," I say, tucking the invitation into my bag. "Thank you."
"Excellent." His smile is warm and genuine, which I find even more unsettling than the whole rogue prince vibe Caelyx has going on. "Oh, and feel free to bring a friend if you'd like. The more the merrier."
A friend. Right. Because I have so many of those here.
"What should I wear?" The question feels stupid, but it's the kind of thing an omega worried about making a good impression would ask.
"Whatever you're comfortable in." He winks, and somehow it's not corny.
He steps aside finally, giving me room to pass. But as I move by him, he adds, "I'm looking forward to seeing you there, Billie."
The way he says my name sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. I mutter something that might be agreement and flee before I can do something stupid like ask why his eyes seem so familiar or why being near him makes me feel like I'm standing in a lightning storm.
I make it around the corner before I stop, leaning against the wall to catch my breath, because apparently, being in the presence of an alpha without having a full-blown heart attack is a workout, even on suppressants.
This is my ticket to getting near Prince Corvinus.
Tomorrow night, I'll be in the same room as the bastard who killed my mother.
I might not be able to put a knife in his throat yet, but I can start laying the groundwork.
Use this cursed omega biology for something useful, even if the thought of trying to seduce him makes me want to scrub my skin raw.
But I'll do it.
I'll smile and bat my eyelashes and play the enamored omega who's so honored to be in his presence. I'll endure whatever humiliation necessary to get close enough to strike when the time is right.
Because nothing, absolutely nothing, matters more than watching the light fade from his eyes as he realizes an omega was his downfall.