Chapter 28 – Billie #2
Adjusting. The word doesn't sit quite right. Because adjusting means accepting, and accepting means giving up on going home. On being who I was before all this omega bullshit ripped my life apart.
But I have to believe all this bullshit has a purpose beyond just surviving another day in this gilded cage.
Otherwise, what the fuck am I even doing here?
We study in silence for another hour, the café slowly emptying as students head off to afternoon classes or whatever the hell they do with their free time.
Isabella and her crew finally leave, but not before shooting us looks that promise this pheromone-fueled cold war is far from over.
"Want to grab ice cream before we head back?" Olivia asks, packing up her books. "There's a cart in the main courtyard that does these ridiculous sundaes with edible gold leaf and—"
"You had me at ice cream. Don't need the sales pitch."
She grins, and it's genuine enough to make me wonder if I've somehow, accidentally, made a friend in this frilly hell hole. Huh.
The thought immediately makes me think of Vera back home, and I feel a pang of conflicted guilt and longing. Both are tempered by the memory of how she looked at me at my Unmasking.
Even if I go back home victorious, will she ever be able to see me the same? Will any of them?
That's a problem for future Billie to worry about, I decide. The only way I'm going to survive let alone succeed at my mission is by taking this one moment at a time.
The courtyard is packed with students enjoying the unseasonably warm afternoon. Fae lounge on grass that's too green to be natural, their melodic laughter carrying across the space. Shifters rough-house near the fountain, their competitive snarls making several omegas clutch their pearls.
And everywhere, the collared humans trying desperately to fit into a world that will never truly accept them as anything more than decorations.
The ice cream cart is exactly as ridiculous as advertised. A Fae vendor with purple hair creates elaborate confections with a flick of his wrist, each one more absurd than the last.
Olivia orders something with three different types of chocolate and something called edible diamonds—whatever the hell that even is—as a topping.
I get salted caramel because I'm not ready to eat gemstones no matter how supposedly edible they are, thanks.
We find a spot on a stone bench overlooking the gardens, and I have to admit, the ice cream is incredible. It's creamy and cold and probably made with magic, but I don't care. For five minutes, I'm just a girl eating ice cream with her roommate, watching the campus go by.
Almost normal. If you ignore the floating architecture and the students with wings.
"You like it?" Olivia asks knowingly, and I realize I've been eating a bit too enthusiastically.
At least Corvinus doesn't appear to be stalking me at the moment. I'm sure he'd have plenty to say about that.
"It's good," I say with a shrug.
"You're eating it like you've never had ice cream before."
I purse my lips, heat creeping across my face.
"Wait, you've never had ice cream?" she asks in disbelief, her golden curls spilling over her shoulder as she leans forward. "Seriously?"
"Hunter food is made with nutrition in mind, not taste," I say with a shrug. "Dessert is frivolous, and hunters don't do frivolity."
"Huh. Oh!" Olivia grabs my arm, nearly making me drop my cone. "Look!"
She points toward the center of the courtyard where the grass has started... moving. Not like wind, but deliberately, growing and weaving itself into patterns.
Flowers bloom in fast-forward motion, their petals unfurling in bursts of brilliant color. The water fountain splashes in rhythmic pulses that catch the light and toss rainbows across the gathered students.
A nature spectacle. I've heard about these but never seen one. The Fae showing off their connection to the natural world, bending it to their will for entertainment.
Not unlike blood bending, I guess, just less gruesome.
It's beautiful. I hate that it's beautiful. Especially since I know this display, like all the other pretty absurdities of this campus, exists for the sole purpose of entrancing omegas.
If the cage has enough flashing lights and soft, luxurious surfaces, the prisoner won't notice the bars.
Students gather around, oohing and aahing like it's the most amazing thing they've ever seen. The grass continues its dance, forming the shapes of everything from a herd of deer to a crouching dragon. All made of living plants, all impossibly detailed.
Then, I realize who the conductor of this verdant symphony is. Standing apart from the crowd is a male Fae who towers over the rest. He has long red hair and eyes so purple they stand out like jewels even from a distance.
He's lean and muscular with bronze skin and strange silver markings weaving up his left arm that glow and pulse in a way that seems to be controlling or at least connected to the moving grass. His hands aren't moving, but he's clearly the one behind the spectacle.
"Isn't it gorgeous?" Olivia breathes, and yeah, she's definitely the type to appreciate this kind of flashy magic.
"It's something," I admit, unable to tear my eyes away despite myself.
The display builds to a crescendo, all the elements coming together in a final burst of color and motion that makes the crowd gasp.
Then, just as quickly as it started, it's over. The grass settles back to normal, the water returns to its gentle fountain routine, and the flowers remain but cease their frantic blooming.
Applause ripples through the courtyard.
The red-haired fae takes an elegant bow, a vaguely bored smile on his handsome face.
Show-off.
"Damn, he's hot," Olivia breathes, and when I look over, she practically has hearts in her eyes.
"Down, girl," I tease. "You're going to meet your new pack tonight, remember?"
"Oh, that's right!" she gasps, sitting up ramrod straight. "I still have to pick something to wear. But I have no idea what the rest of his pack is even like."
"You're going to be fine," I tell her as we start walking. "Just wear something that's comfortable enough to run in. And that you can hide a knife under."
"You're a terrible life coach, you know that?"
"I prefer to think of it as realistic."
The walk back to the dorm takes us through the gardens, past those impossible blue roses that still make my nose itch. The paths are quieter here, most students taking the main routes. Just a few scattered couples stealing moments alone, a Fae reading under a tree, nothing to—
The hair on the back of my neck stands up.
Someone's watching me.
I scan the area, trying to look casual as my eyes sweep over every shadow, every corner where someone could hide. Nothing. Just gardens, statues, benches, and the faint shimmer of wards protecting the campus from outside threats.
But I know that feeling. Spent twenty years learning to trust it. Someone is definitely watching.
"You okay?" Olivia asks.
"Yeah." I force myself to keep moving, even though every instinct screams at me to find the watcher. "Just thought I saw something."
"Probably just a sprite." She links her arm through mine, either oblivious to the danger or choosing to ignore it. "They're always skulking around the gardens. Bitey little bastards."
Maybe. But sprites don't make my skin prickle like this. I'd know the focused, intent energy of a predator anywhere.
We make it back to the dorm, but the feeling doesn't fade. I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting to see red eyes in the shadows. But there's nothing.
Huh. Maybe it really is just paranoia and these suppressants making my brain fuzzy.
Yeah. That's all it is. Time to talk to the doctor about changing my dose or going on something with fewer side effects.
Olivia spends the next three hours transforming herself into something that would make a supermodel weep with envy. As I study, I find myself occasionally glancing over to watch her work with something approaching awe.
She'd make one hell of a hunter if she ever chose to use those glamorizing skills for the art of disguise.
"How do I look?" she asks finally. She spins around for dramatic effect, her dress swirling around her.
It's pink, obviously, but a deeper shade than her usual bubblegum aesthetic. Her rose gold jewelry catches the light, and her hair falls in perfect waves I now know for a fact take a full hour to achieve.
"Like you're going to give those shifters a collective heart attack." That's one form of hunting.
Her smile is brilliant. "Perfect!"
The knock on our door comes right on time.
"Olivia, a gentleman caller is here for you!" calls the dorm matron, as if we're living in some fluffy period drama and not a glorified fish tank surrounded by pointy-eared cats ready to scoop one of us up at any second.
Olivia is literally shaking with excitement as she grabs her bag—also pink, naturally—and heads for the door.
"Wish me luck."
"Remember," I call after her, "weak points!"
"I'm going to meet my future pack, not into a war zone!"
"Same difference!"
She flips me off affectionately as she leaves, and I war with myself for about five seconds before slipping out of the room to follow her to the lobby.
I catch a glimpse of Everen standing on the walkway outside, since there are no alphas allowed in the dorm outside of visiting hours.
He's dressed more casually than he was at the party, slacks and a black shirt that does nothing to hide the muscles underneath.
I guess shifters aren't quite as unrelentingly flashy as the Fae. His eyes find mine for a second, even though I'm hiding in the shadows, and he holds my stare.
There's something in that look I don't like it. I don't like him, but I also know telling Olivia that is just going to push her further into his arms.
She's intent on belonging to a pack. Finding alphas to give her the pampered, protected life she deserves.
And considering I'm a huge part of the reason she's become one of Isabella's favorite targets, I know I don't have any right to interfere in that, but I still can't help but worry.
Fuck, I'm getting attached. That's the last thing I need.
I should study. Should use this rare moment of privacy to actually focus on my coursework instead of worrying about my roommate who definitely doesn't want to be rescued from a night with her potential pack.
Instead, I pull out the iron key as I walk back to the room.
It's become a habit, this nightly examination. Turning it over in my fingers, memorizing every spot of rust. Waiting for Caelyx to give me some sign, some indication of when we're meeting again.
Maybe he changed his mind. Decided I'm more trouble than I'm worth. Or this was all some elaborate game to him, and he's already grown bored.
The thought shouldn't bother me, but it does.
I'm fucking exhausted. The suppressants drain me more each day, make every step feel like trudging through water. My body wants to sleep for a week, but my brain won't shut off.
Fuck it. I change into sleep clothes—an oversized Men's T-shirt I may or may not have technically shoplifted from the store since I knew the shopkeeper wouldn't sell it to me—and collapse into bed.
The mattress is too soft, the pillows too plush, everything designed for maximum omega comfort.
I hate how good it feels.
Sleep comes faster than expected. I don't even dream, which is a relief considering how often my brain has been conjuring memories of Corvinus's tongue lately.
Then, something wakes me.
I don't hear anything, and my internal clock tells me it's way too early for Olivia to be back, but I feel it. A weird prickling sensation that insists I'm being watched.
I crack one eye open, disoriented. The room is dark except for the faint glow of Olivia's fairy lights on her side. Her bed is empty, so she's definitely still at the pack meeting.
Then I see it.
A shadow by my bed. Darker than the surrounding darkness. Too tall and broad to be Olivia, too still to be a trick of the light.
My hand slides toward the nightstand, searching for something, anything I can use as a weapon. But before I can move, the shadow leans down and a hand clamps over my mouth.
"Don't scream."
The voice is familiar. My body recognizes it before my brain does, and that's the only reason I don't immediately try to bite off his fingers.
Caelyx.
I glare up at him, and even in the darkness, I see that infuriating smirk on his face.
"There's my little cobra," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "Miss me?"
Before I can respond, his eyes glow red, becoming brighter than the lights across the room, and my entire body freezes.
It's similar to the effect Tallon's bark had, but there's a heaviness to it that spreads through my body, making everything limp and fuzzy.
In a matter of seconds, I can't even struggle. All I can do is stare up at those bloody red eyes with a sense of betrayal far greater than I want to admit.
My last thought before I sink into the darkness is the lesson I thought I'd learned long ago.
Never trust the Fae.
To Be Continued…