“Yes, that girl,” she spits. Then she cocks her head to one side, and examines me. “There’s something strange about her. Something different. She’s caught your attention for starters.”
“Maybe what attracts me to her, Veronica, is she is the exact opposite of everything you are.”
“Oh, I’m sure she is,” she laughs, “a novice in bed. Cold and frigid. Like a dead fish when you fuck her.”
I try to suppress it, but I guess something flickers across my features.
Veronica laughs even harder. “Don’t tell me you haven’t even had her yet, Fox?”
“I’m her professor,” I point out, with a look.
“I doubt her drunk of a father would make a complaint. I’m sure he’s dying to be rid of her.”
I turn away from her, stride back to the doorway and hold the door wide open.
“This conversation is over.”
She strolls towards me, retrieving the cloak she’s left draped over the end of my bed. She hesitates as she passes me, reaching out to trail a long fingernail down my chest.
“Things will never be over between us, Fox. We have too much history.”
“There is no ‘us’, Veronica. You disgust me,” I spit. “You make my skin crawl.”
She snatches her hand away from me.
“There’s something going on with that girl. I’m not stupid, Fox.” She narrows her eyes at me. “You understand that if you know something – anything – it is your duty to report it. That was the condition of your appointment at the academy. Why else do you think we have you teaching that silly little class? You’d be wise to remember that, Professor Fox Tudor. Wise to remember what happens if you don’t fulfill your duty.”
I hold her threatening gaze. “I am aware.”
She flings her cloak around her shoulders, and then she’s gone in a swish of dark silk.
Her words linger, echoing around my mind like a bad dream long after she’s left the dungeon.
Veronica’s sour scent hovers in the air too. If I’d been able to smell it better as a human, maybe this mess would never have happened.
Then again, if it hadn’t, would my path ever have crossed with Briony’s? She’s twelve years younger than me. By thetime she went off to the academy, I’d have been back in Slate, married, settled with kids, struggling with too many mouths to feed. But maybe I’d have been happy.
I shake my head. I wouldn’t have been. There would always have been something missing. Something I was searching for. I just didn’t know what.
Who.
Now I do.
Briony Storm.
Chapter Four
Dray
Me and Beaufort move three armchairs and a load of cushions and blankets up into Thorne’s room and the three of us – me, Beaufort and our little Kitten – take one each and settle down for the night.
Thorne’s sleeping peacefully and something in my gut tells me with our mate close by, he’s going to be okay again by morning.
“You comfy?” I whisper over to the little Kitten, curled up in the chair between us. She certainly looks comfortable, unlike Beaufort who’s struggling to fit his giant frame inside the chair, his long legs spread out across the floor.
“You don’t understand,” she whispers back, “I spent like the last five years sleeping on the floor or out in the forest. I know you all complain, but the academy is like luxury to me.”
“You slept on the floor,” I growl.