Page 8 of Knot What She Seems
Thierry Graves was once one of the highest ranking generals in the king’s army, but that all changed when he busted his kneecap. He was instantly removed from commanding the front lines and placed in the academy, where he oversees all of the alpha recruits.
Kylian rolls his head along the back of the couch to stare at the headmaster, and Luka immediately resumes his cleaning. In the back room, through the open door, Colter tilts his masked head in the headmaster’s direction and watches from the bed.
“Ridge.” Formality—and something akin to annoyance—bleeds into the headmaster’s tone as he offers me a curt nod. “It’s been a long time.”
I cross my arms over my chest and offer him a smile that is nothing but sharp edges. I imagine it’s a smile I wore often when I was a student here in order to talk myself—or one of my packmates—out of trouble.
“Funny how the last time I was here, I was nothing but a student for you and the others to push around.” I chuckle, but the noise is devoid of any real humor. “Now, I’m…” I pretend to consider our current situation. “ Well…I’m sort of your boss, am I right?”
Kylian snorts, and even Luka has to bite his cheek to keep from smiling.
Graves’s terse smile fades, and the snippy, pathetic side I remember emerges. “You’re here because you’re being punished. In what world does that make you my boss?”
Kylian waves a hand in the air with a shit-eating grin. “The queen herself asked us to teach at the academy. Said that we’re to take over day-to-day operations.” He shrugs a single shoulder. “Kind of sounds like we’re doing the headmaster’s job, wouldn’t you say?”
Red seeps into Graves’s cheeks, but he manages to keep his composure. “I just wanted to let you four know that all instructors have a mandatory meeting in the main academic building in an hour. Attendance is not optional.”
“Is it?” Luka arches an arrogant eyebrow as he tosses his wet, dirty paper towel at Graves’s shoe. It lands with a splat, sliding down the leather as my packmate continues, “Because again…we’re kind of in charge now. What if we don’t want this meeting to be mandatory?”
“Meetings bore me,” Kylian agrees with an exaggerated yawn.
“They are quite dull, aren’t they?” I muse.
A vein begins to pulsate amusingly on Graves’s forehead. One of his hands forms a fist by his side. “Don’t think you can get away with speaking to me like this. I don’t give a damn what you believe. You four are being punished. This isn’t a vacation. You report to me and only me. And maybe, just maybe, when all of this is said and done, you won’t be put to death for your crimes.”
“Put to death.” I whistle. “Wow. That’s a pretty big threat.”
“Speaking of big threat…” Kylian murmurs with a pointed look in Colter’s direction. Well, a pointed look in the direction of his dick, which hangs huge and heavy against his thigh as he sits up in bed.
Sigh.
Yet another reason why no omega ever wishes to stay with us.
Headmaster Graves’s face pales when he catches sight of Colter’s masked face, and I don’t bother to smother my grin. It appears as if Colter’s reputation has reached even Eros Academy.
Colter moves to stand beside me, muscles flexing, and Graves’s eyes automatically dip to the other man’s cock. Red tints his cheeks. He glances up immediately, attempting to regain a little bit of the bravado he lost, but the scent of his sweat sours his aftershave, and I know his nerves are shaken.
“One hour, Ridge. Do not be late.”
“We’ll be there in two hours,” Kylian calls with a grin as Graves stomps off the tiny, sagging porch.
“Maybe three,” Luka throws in as he reaches for a new paper towel.
Colter just growls.
On the front porch of the cottage, Graves spins around and jabs a finger in my direction.
“Control your team, Ridge. I’m not fucking joking?—”
I slam the door in his face.
“Fuck me,” I groan, running a hand down my face. I can already feel a migraine coming on.
“Can’t we just kill him?” Kylian gripes as he reclines back on the couch. “We’re pretty good at hiding bodies.”
“Tempting,” Luka murmurs as he scrubs at a stain on the kitchen countertop.
For a moment, I consider it—weighing the pros and the cons in my head. But dammit. We can’t just solve every problem with murder.
