Page 47 of Do You Even Hex, Bro?
“Very, actually.” I step cautiously into the room. “Whatever was in that cocktail you gave me could be bottled and sold. You'd make a fortune.”
A smile curves his lips. "I'm pleased you found it effective." His eyes flick to my face, lingering on the glamour. "Though you may wish to conserve your magical reserves until you've decided on a more permanent arrangement. You certainly needn't bother on my account."
I flush, embarrassed by how blunt he’s being, but I hesitantly let the spell drop. The familiar sensation of it dissolving makes my skin crawl, and I resist the urge to cover my face. I do turn my head away, though.
"Please, sit." He gestures to a nearby chair, turning his full attention to me. "Have you had time to consider your options?"
I sink into the chair, forcing myself not to fidget under his gaze. His eyes show no disgust at my scars, just mild interest that's somehow more unnerving than revulsion would be.
"There aren't many options, are there?" I say, unable to keep the bitterness from bleeding into my voice. "A pack of jock himbo wolves has claimed me as their mate and my crazy ex-boyfriend and his shitty coven is still hunting me down. Oh, and I'm magically bonded to said ex in a way that makes permanent separation potentially fatal for me. So yeah, I've considered my options. They all suck."
"Perhaps not entirely." Villeneuve begins to play again, his elegant fingers drawing a delicate melody from the piano keys. "As long as you remain here, you have no need to worry about either the wolves or your former coven leader."
I narrow my eyes. "Are you offering me protection?"
"The university has policies in place for endangered supernatural entities seeking sanctuary," he explains, his gaze fully on the piano, much to my relief. "As a faculty member and Council representative, I merely facilitate the process. Should you officially claim sanctuary, you would be under the university's protection until your situation stabilizes."
“Is that what I am? Endangered? Like a panda?”
He smiles slightly. "There is no shortage of organizations who would jump at the chance to have a siphon in their midst. Which is why, I suspect, your former coven went to such lengths to keep you isolated. So you wouldn't realize you had options." His fingers never falter on the keys. "But the matter of the wolves claiming you does present a challenge."
"Do you think they're telling the truth?" I ask, the question that's been burning in my mind since last night. “That I'm really their…” I almost choke on the word. Saying it out loud feels horrifyingly final. “Mate?”
"It doesn't matter nearly as much as whatyouthink." He turns to face me fully, abandoning the piano. I turn my head away again. "Do you think it's true?"
I stare out the window instead of making eye contact with Villeneuve, watching sunlight dapple on the colorful plants in the garden. I hate the conclusion my instincts are drawing, but I can't deny it either.
"When I was in their house," I admit reluctantly, "before I knew it was theirs, I caught their scents. They felt... right." The words sound ridiculous as soon as they leave my mouth, but they're true. "I was drawn to them in a way I can't explain."
Villeneuve nods thoughtfully. "That is a familiar description."
"So I have no choice?" I ask hoarsely. "The universe just decides I belong to a pack of wolves, and that's that?"
"There is always a choice, Regina. It’s a question of whether you want to pay the price." His expression remains neutral, but his dark eyes soften. "If you wish to refuse the pack's claim, I will offer you my assistance."
"Why would you do that? You don't even know me."
"Perhaps I recognize a kindred spirit." He smiles. A real smile. "One who has been used by those who should have protected her."
A howl erupts from the forest. Long, mournful, filled with longing. Another joins it, then a third and fourth, blending into haunting harmony. I wince, pressing my fingers against my temples.
"They're not going to leave me alone, are they?" I mutter.
Villeneuve sighs, weariness evident in his posture. "No. That is the nature of wolves. It’s both their most endearing and most infuriating trait. But even the Underwood pack can't get past my wards."
One of the howls cuts off into a barking yelp.
Villeneuve clears his throat. “Case in point.”
"Your wards are impressive," I acknowledge. "I've never felt anything like them."
"Old magic," he says dismissively. "Accumulated over time."
I notice he's being intentionally vague. Not giving me any breadcrumbs as to whether it's his magic or someone else's. Like whoever enchanted this house.
“You seem to know these wolves well,” I say dryly.
His mouth twists into something between a grimace and a smile. "The Underwood pack has been a thorn in my side since they arrived on campus. They are obnoxious and reckless, as only young wolves can be. If not kept under close watch, they run the risk of burning the whole campus down—perhaps literally."
