3

Excellent. Seems we’re already off to a great start.

Without a word, my driver exited the car and came around to my side, holding open my door for me as I climbed out. While he took my belongings out of the boot of the car, I approached the walkway to my left, where the fair-haired woman stared at me. The pressure from her gaze nearly pinned me to the pavement. What kind of creature was she? I reached out with my senses to get a feel for exactly what she was. Not a human, not a vampire. The tinge of darkness surrounding her sent a chill through me as the worddeityflashed in my mind. What the hell was a deity doing here?

“Mademoiselle Fallon, I’m glad you had the good sense to use the private entrance rather than make a spectacle of yourself.” Her velvety voice, with its French accent, mesmerized me. “I’m Antoinette le Blanc, the Headmistress of Students.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but she simply turned on her heels and headed for the doors, which opened on their own. “My things—” I protested.

“Are already in your chamber.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the pile of suitcases and bags I’d brought with me were gone, along with the sleek black car. “Eat your heart out, Dumbledore.”

“We are not some made-up school from children’s books, Mademoiselle Fallon. Ravenscroft University is a prestigious institution where the future leaders of our world learn to work together. You’ll find no trolls in our dungeon. You should count yourself among the lucky to even have a place here. Especially”—she looked me over—“considering you have yet to manifest.” She leaned in and took a long moment to assess me. “Not a whiff of wolf on you. There’s something... dark about you, but I can’t place it.”

I bristled. How had she known? Does this meaneveryoneknew? “I have a wolf. She’s just not ready to come out to play.”

Antoinette smirked. “We shall see. Now, come along. Moira will be waiting for you.”

“Moira?”

“Your flatmate.”

“I’m sharing a room with someone?”

She snorted. “Would you rather sleep outside? That can be arranged.”

“No. It’s fine. I just... I’ve never had a roommate.”

“This is your first year at Ravenscroft. I assure you, having someone to show you the ropes, as it were, is going to be to your benefit.”

She escorted me through winding hallways, the click of her heels on the stone floor echoing in the cavernous space. It was like being trapped in a labyrinth of never-ending halls until she stopped at a tall door and opened it, revealing another building across a courtyard. People milled around the open air space, some reading, others laughing together, and one staring straight at me.

My blood ran cold as my gaze connected with the one man I never wanted to see again in my life. Kingston Farrell. Son of the Farrell pack Alpha and future leader of their Family. And, according to my grandfather, my destined mate.

I stood transfixed in the doorway, my chest a messy tangle of emotions. Embarrassment. Shame. Anger. Even the tiniest flicker of lust, which I immediately stomped out. All because Kingston's furious gaze was on mine.

I hated how after everything he'd done, after all the things he said about me over the years, I could still find him so damn attractive. I mean, some of that was genetics; the guy had been biologically predisposed to making women pant even when we'd met as teenagers.

But now, he was all grown up. Towering six-foot-something frame, heavily muscled sun-bronzed skin with hints of... was that black ink teasing from the one open button of his flannel?

Shaggy golden-blond hair practically begged you to run your fingers through it, and his chiseled jaw, covered in a slightly darker five-o'clock shadow, promised you'd feel his kisses for days after.

Even narrowed in anger, his green eyes still made me want to discover their secrets.

If his looks alone weren't enough to make a woman drop her panties, all that big dick alpha energy would. His aura conveyed how utterly savage he'd be protecting those that belonged to him. Too bad my shortcomings kept me from falling under that umbrella. No, Kingston Farrell had made it perfectly clear just how beneath him he thought I was. Time and time again.

But hadn't I been the one who rejected him in the first place?

"Mademoiselle Fallon, if you make me stop and wait for you again, I'll leave you here to figure out your living arrangements on your own. I know you've been raised to believe that the world revolves around your schedule and whims, but it doesn't. Not here. Do not waste my time."

My gaze snapped to Antoinette's face and the pinched, slightly annoyed expression she'd worn ever since I pulled up. "I'm sorry, Antoinette."

"That's Madame Headmistress to you. Now, come along."

My feet hastened to obey without my conscious command.Geez. Madame Moody here could teach grandfather a thing or two. They'd probably get along like a house on fire.I smiled to myself.If they didn't kill each other first.

"Something funny, Mademoiselle Fallon?"

"Nope."

She gave me a long, withering glare and then took off up a set of stairs leading to a building that seemed to have pride of place among the others in the courtyard. I only had a second to read the plaque declaring it Blackthorne Hall before she was ushering me through its front doors.

"You're on the third floor. Room eleven." She pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to me. It was a key. Heavy, ornate, and colored with age. "I suggest you don't lose that. Replacements are hard to come by." She pointed to a set of winding stairs. "Take those and then the set on the left."

I figured it was best not to ask about the elevator since although I saw one, it was not offered as an option. Three flights of stairs weren't so bad. "You're not coming with me?"

"Your tardiness this morning has made me late for another meeting. But I trust even you can manage to count to three. Just take the stairs up and then look for the door with the eleven on it." She left before I could ask anything further.

The headmistress was a bit cold. But then, I figured most deities probably were. I didn't imagine etiquette or a pleasant disposition ranked really high on the list of things they cared about.

Thankful I didn't have to worry about lugging my belongings up to my room, I made my way up the stairs and then down a hall that reminded me of an upscale bed-and-breakfast more so than a dorm.

The carpets were plush, the fixtures expensive, and I was pretty sure the wallpaper was original. Not because it was faded, it was actually in perfect condition, but I was fairly sure they didn't make it that way anymore.

Still holding the key, I slid it into the ornate lock of room number eleven, wondering if they even made keyrings large enough for this sucker as I stepped inside.

Moira, my new roommate, looked up as soon as the door opened, her expression of surprise morphing to disgust as she raked her eyes slowly down and then back.Perfect.I really had a way of making people fall in love with me, didn't I?

Since she made no effort to hide the fact she was sizing me up, I used the opportunity to do the same.

Her blonde hair was styled in an artful tumble around her shoulders, thick black liner winging her amethyst-colored eyes, and a seriously hot shade of fuchsia expertly applied to her lips—which were currently twisted in a scowl.

She wore head-to-toe black, a stark contrast to her alabaster skin which was dotted with a spray of freckles, but not in the rebellious style of someone going through their goth phase.

Her high-waisted, wide-legged slacks screamed money. So did her sheer silk blouse and the lacy bralette she wore beneath it.

From the looks of things, I'd interrupted her painting her nails, a glittering drop falling from the brush and splattering onto the varnished wood of her fancy desk.

Since she hadn't noticed, I decided not to tell her. No need to go and give her other things to hate me over. She seemed to have more than enough reasons already.

"You must be Sunday," she said with a resigned huff. "I'm Moira Belladonna."

My eyes widened at that. The Belladonnas were a notoriously scary coven of witches.

"Good, I see you already know better than to fuck with me. Stay out of my way, and we should get along just fine." She turned her attention back to her manicure, calling over her shoulder, "That's your bed over there. I've already filled the closet, so you'll have to make do with the dresser.

You're just lucky I was willing to let you share my room. No one else wanted the pampered Fallon princess disrupting their lives."

Pampered princess? That was laughable. More like dirty little secret.

I eyed the furniture in question, which had clothes spilling out of two of its four drawers. The bed hadn't fared much better. While it was made, its linens the same decadent quality as the rest of the place so far, Moira's cast-off outfits were strewn all across it.

I was pretty sure this was some kind of test, and my reaction would likely solidify or change whatever assumptions she'd made about me. But I'd been playing power games like this my whole life, and I didn't scare easily.

Without a word, I picked up the first of my suitcases and tossed it on the bed, right on top of a bunched-up Armani dress.

She snorted, but I caught her eyeing me as though waiting for me to challenge her or break. I was used to people like her. Rich kids were the same from Family to Family. Show no weakness. That was the only way to establish where you belonged in the pecking order. Me? I might have been hidden away for most of my life, but I belonged on top.

I scooped all the clothes off my bed, carrying them in my arms as I strolled across the room toward her. She didn't even look up as she continued painting her toenails a deep crimson. Until I dropped the pile of designer garments straight onto her freshly painted feet.

"You really should put your clothes away. They could get ruined."