Page 12 of Wings and Shadowthief

The dorm might have seemed practically deserted to a regular observer, but Hunter’s acute sense of hearing told another story. They weren’t the only ones who’d rushed home to lock themselves behind closed doors after the battle. He supposed adrenaline must have been high, lowering inhibitions as effectively as any tequila.

The thought bothered him. He didn’t want to think that he was here with her simply because they’d survived yet another attack on Oldcrest. He didn’t want her to think it either.

Talk. They’d need to talk, and soon.

Just not now.

“This room?” he guessed, nodding at a brown door marked with a 176.

She bit her lower lip. “My roommate might be here.”

He’d forgotten undergrads shared rooms in this part of the dorm. He lived in the right wing, along with the rest of the dangerous freaks of Oldcrest.

This was his way out. He could let her go, tell her they’d resume this later. Make her understand why. “The room’s empty.”

Producing a keychain from her back pocket, Gwen writhed to hop off him. If her intention had been to make his dick harder than steel, she was succeeding.

Hunter let her off her feet, slanting across her back to nibble at her earlobe as she strained to fit the key into its hole.

“You’re not helping,” she admonished with a snort that made him want to tease her more.

Hunter cupped her waist and pressed up harder against her back. “That prim and proper teacher’s tone is working for me, doll.”

“Doll?”

He shrugged. “You’re gorgeous, always perfectly put together, and I want to play with you.”

His assessment earned him a chuckle.

The key finally inside, she turned the knob and let them in her space.

The room was large, separated at the center by a five-fold shoji screen. One side of the room was plain and sparse, neatly organized. The bedding was beige and neatly made under a blue throw. A hotel room appeared more personal. The other side was a mess of dark and bright colors, with countless bibelots and piles of clothes on the floor.

Hunter found himself frowning. His sense of smell was strong enough to know his pretty doll was the neat freak out of the two women sleeping here. He didn’t like it. There wasn’t so much as a crease out of place. It showed she wasn’t comfortable here.

He opened his mouth to ask why, just as she rose to her tiptoes again and closed her soft, plump lips over his.

Fuck talking. He leaned into her warmth, letting himself forget all about battles, blood, and consequences. Letting himself forget about Jack. All that mattered in that moment was her.

Treading Water

18thof March 2158

Gwen woke with a start, sitting up, eyes wide, and out of breath.

Oh, no. That asshole didnotget to haunt her dreams. There were plenty of perfectly eligible, gorgeous men in Oldcrest, most of whom had never humiliated her. Why couldn’t she dream about one of them? Anyone would do.

“Would it kill you to keep it down before dawn?” her roommate grunted underneath her pile of black covers.

Gwen’s eyes shot daggers at Michelle. They’d clashed from day one. Michelle never went to bed before midnight and only attended afternoon classes, while Gwen had opted for a normal schedule. She woke up between seven and eight most days. If that weren’t enough to make them mortal enemies, it so happened that Michelle Hyde was a bone witch—relying on the magic of her ancestors, rather than the elements—from one of the oldest covens in the United Kingdom. Elemental and ancestral witches disagreed about everything, down to the very definition of magic.

Michelle had taken to pointing out every single thing Gwen did wrong. Such as daring to wake up in her own bed.

Rather than force herself to go back to sleep at Michelle’s bidding, Gwen dragged herself out of bed in the dark bedroom, slowly feeling her way to the bathroom. After a few short ablutions, she headed downstairs, not bothering to get dressed. Her checkered fleece pajamas might not be particularly fashionable, but it wasn’t like she had anyone to impress.

She opened the door to the common room and sighed. There were already nine students occupying the best sofas and armchairs. All communal computers were claimed. She had three hours to kill before her next lesson, and she didn’t relish the thought of spending them scrunched up on an uncomfortable seat.

The dorms were divided into two wings, one meant for the bulk of the student body, and the other, reserved for the few sups who needed supervision, such as newborn vampires or unstable shifters. Gwen had spent a fair bit of time in the right wing over the last few months, because Tris had been moved there after her transition to vampire.

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