“No boys allowed?”
She laughs. “None.”
I nearly drown in relief. “That sounds fucking perfect.”
Callum’s chuckle barely holds any breath, yet it tickles my cheek all the same. “I am aman, Sienna. Restate your parameters unless you want further company tonight.”
“No men of any kind,” I clarify abruptly. “No would-be-mates or alphas or vampires allowed, especially if their names are Callum Navarro, Alistair Dire, or Revyn Malus.”
The seat behind me creaks as Revyn leans forward and plants the sole of his boot on the edge of mine. His breath rustles my hair. “I won’t give up, Sienna.”
I hold my breath until he leans back, putting as much distance between us as he can stand, which isn’t much. Exhaling slowly, I count to ten in my head before replying in a whisper I know he can hear. “That’s not an apology.”
There’s a beat of silence before he sighs. “No, it’s not.”
A sad smile curves on my lips.
At least he’s being honest for once.
Chapter 14
Sienna
After six hoursof classes and an afternoon break fraught with curious stares, the promise of stiff drinks and idle conversation is enough to make me follow Gemma anywhere—including down a winding staircase lit only by the faintest flicker of candlelight.
The pounding inside my skull is made worse with each step we take until finally, after what feels like ages, we emerge into a musty cavern rumbling with muted laughter and the gentle lap of waves. Once my eyes adjust to the dim lighting, I make out at least a dozen vampires milling about, drinking from crystal goblets and eying each other with dark hunger.
I keep my gaze off their faces and quickly amuse myself with the saltwater pool kissing the natural rock platform at our feet. A narrow waterway extends from the far side of the pool, reaching the mouth of the cave and opening to the academy’s only access point to the ocean—a favorite spot for merfolk to gather, judging by how many swishing tails linger on the sun-soaked rocks. Their damp skin and shimmering scales reflect the setting sun’s farewell as it bleeds across the horizon in a gorgeous swath of deep pinks and purples. Focusing my gaze, I catch numerous patches of scales woven throughout their human halves—clinging to the curve of an elbow or dotting one’s collar bone—similar to Headmaster Loreander’s while he’s in human form.
Perhaps there is a wrinkle of truth to the rumors of shared traits between dragons of the sky and those of the deep.
“Over here,” Gemma beckons, waving me toward a bar carved from the cavern itself. Its sculptor has chiseled intricate details into the columns stretching from floor to ceiling, with more swirling patterns and shapes decorating the edge of the flat top, the deepest of which glow with an unnatural white light.
Gemma talks animatedly with the bartender, a man whose skin is so pale that it’s nearly translucent. His eyes lock onto mine as I approach, and I swallow the discomfort threatening to rise. I’ve been suffering from silent gazes all afternoon, and I have a feeling there will be many more to come.
“This is my brother, Thorn,” Gemma introduces. “He’s a second-year and a damn good mixer.”
“Gemma,” Thorn sighs, frowning. “I told you to stop coming here.”
“Why? Because it’sdangerous?” She rolls her eyes on the last word. “If it’s safe enough for you to work here, then it’s safe enough for me to visit.”
“I don’t feed off of magic,” he whispers harshly, narrowing his gaze. “And you arenotvampire or merfolk, last I checked.” His gaze flicks to mine. “Neither is your friend.”
“Then pour us some drinks, and we’ll be on our way. To-go,” she amends, beaming at me. “He really is the best bartender of the last three centuries. How he hasn’t found a mate is beyond me!”
“Maybe it’s because of annoying little sisters,” he mutters, mixing a blood red cocktail without needing to watch his hands. His eyes are frozen on his sister in a way that seems deeply...intimate.
“I only arrived yesterday,” Gemma counters, waving away his comment. “You’ve been here an entire year. Surely someone has caught your eye by now.”
He pinches his lips into a thin line and does not reply, turning away to pour his concoction into a glass cylinder.
“How are you two related?” I ask, noting the stiff line of Thorn’s shoulders before turning to Gemma.
“I’m adopted,” Gemma replies happily. “Though why none of my siblings care to turn me into a vampire, I’ll never know.”
Thorn sets two large drink canisters in front of his sister, glaring at her once again. “Do not recruit strangers to your cause, Gem. You will not win.”
She smiles sweetly at Thorn and lifts onto her tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “That’s why you’re my favorite brother.” After patting his cheek, she cradles one canister beneath her arm and takes the other in hand. “You never change.”
