Page 35 of Dark Embers

“Imprinting,” I admitted.

She arched a curious eyebrow as she regarded me for a few seconds, then pulled the door open.

“Have a seat while I make myself presentable.” She gestured to the couch in the living room before disappearing behind an adjacent door.

I’d never seen the inside of one of the faculty dorms, but this was far more modest than I’d imagined. The space reminded me of acabin on a cruise ship. The main room was small and served as a living room, with a couch, a coffee table, and a TV hanging on the wall opposite them. Along the far wall were cabinets above a counter, upon which sat a microwave, coffee pot, and sink, and beneath which was a built-in mini fridge.

I hadn’t seen into the single bedroom attached—and thank fuck because I didnotwant to see Mr. Sharp’s hairy ursa balls—but I imagined it was even more cramped.

Why didn’t they have rooms as big as our dorms? Just because they were teachers didn’t mean they had to live like monks cloistered in hovels. How did Mr. Sharp even walk around in here with his massive form? The man was built like a bear, even without shifting.

I did as I was told and sat on the couch, momentarily tempted to pour myself a cup of coffee both to fight the hangover and to hide the booze smell. But before I could make a move in that direction, the bedroom door opened, and Mrs. Sharp stepped out.

She joined me on the couch, and I scooted over to make what I felt was an appropriate space between us.

“So, what exactly is this issue you need help with?” she asked, braiding her fingers in her lap.

“Is it possible to break an imprint?” Figured I might as well get straight to the point.

She frowned at me curiously. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

“Or if not break it, can you at least nullify its effects?” I went on. “Maybe there’s a procedure or something to turn off that part of the brain.”

Her brows puckered behind her glasses, and I didn’t like the sympathy I found in her expression. “Who have you imprinted on?”

I looked away from her knowing gaze. “It doesn’t matter. I just need it gone.”

Her hand landed on my shoulder, and I flinched at the uninvited contact. “My dear boy, there’s no way that we know of to break an imprint.”

My heart hardened into stone, refusing to hear her.

“There has to be,” I insisted. “Haven’t there been any strides in research to keep the survivors of an imprint alive after their mates die? Or do you all just let them die, too?”

She lowered her hand back down to her lap. “Well, there have been several studies to help them cope and survive as long as they can, of course, but none of them have ever proved fruitful. The chemical changes that occur in the body and especially the brain after an imprint just can’t be reversed, and there’s no substitute for the pheromones of the mate.”

I shook my head repeatedly, desperation morphing to anger inside me. “You’re supposed to be the expert. What good are you if you can’t help a student with this shit?”

My chest squeezed with regret as soon as I’d thrown those words at her, but when I chanced a glance at her, she didn’t look insulted. Instead, there was only pity in her eyes, making my anger cool into steam.

“Can I ask why you’re fighting your imprint?” Her voice was soft and motherly, so like my own mom’s, compelling me to lower my walls.

And so I told her the one thing I’d never told another living soul. “There’s a curse placed on my bloodline. If we fall in love with anyone, they will never love us back, and vice versa.”

She didn’t say anything to that. What was there to say? We both knew that an imprint was the worst thing that could happen to the bearer of such a curse.

“Now you understand why Ihaveto undo this,” I said after a long silence.

She nodded and sighed. “An imprint is a beautiful bond. It’s one of the most compelling things in the shifter world. And while it comes with its costs to every shifter it affects, there has never been anyone willing to experiment with breaking it. So I don’t know how to help you.”

I straightened and looked at her. “Then use me.”

“What?” She cocked her head at me.

“Experiment on me,” I asserted. “Idon’t want it, and I’m willing to risk just about anything to break the bond. Use me as your guinea pig, and we could save dozens of imprinted shifters who lose their mates.”

She shook her head adamantly. “No. You are the general’s son, and a student no less. I will not use you as a test subject.”

I stood up off the couch. “Fine. Then I’ll do it myself. I’ll let you know what I come up with.”

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