Page 52 of Lost and Bound

He checks to see where she is before using his preternatural agility to leap over the counter and come at me like a train.

“You would have had a lonely childhood if I had followed those damn rules. Pull your head out of your ass, Arlan, and remember your manners. She’s a Nom, not a threat.” He barely takes a breath, his anger and energy blistering like the sun. “And while we’re having this chat, put your focus where it should be.”

By the time he’s finished speaking, he’s encroaching on my space, jabbing one of his bony fingers into my chest.

As soon as he stops speaking, I answer him. “Message received.”

He flashes me a grin, stepping away, all carefree again. That’s the thing with Rodderick—he tells you how it is, and if you take responsibility, he’s back to being your staunchest supporter.

“Get Emrys to change the ward to let her come and go without being accosted. The last thing we need is her tiring of this bs and deciding her time at Thales is done.”

I shake my head, disagreeing with him. “Maybe that’s exactly what Cane needs, Rodderick: a good hunt.” I take off laughing before he can have another go.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

LIES I TELL MYSELF: PROFESSOR CANE IS A GENEROUS SOUL, JUST MISUNDERSTOOD

“You’ll use this area while you’re here,” Professor Cane says, using everything in his arsenal to push the point. His eyes brim with distrust, and his tone suggests that I’ve been caught stealing candy from a dying kid.

I could deal with those things, but it’s the way he continually jabs his finger which has me worrying I’m about to snap. I literally position myself in a corner with my hands behind my back and my gaze locked on the floor to stop myself from snapping the offending appendage off.

I. Am. Safe. He. Is. Crazy. Repeats through my thoughts as he continues laying down his ground rules. Though I can hear what he’s saying, the endless gold threads are weaving across my vision again, and his vibrant green aura is beautifully distracting. I wish I knew the significance of both those things, but no one explains anything, which is something I’m getting used to fast, unfortunately.

The last time my whole world flipped upside down, it took a lot of therapy before I felt like I could trust myself and my judgment again. I hate being pulled back to the time my parents died. Those days were so dark; my grief locking me into a place I didn’t think I could escape. A therapist taught me a very simple focus exercise and promised it would help. It did, and it was something I used a lot, both back then and now. But, like I confessed to the vampire, being at Thales has my recovery slipping.

Something’s happened since the professor started showing me around. He was guarded before, but now he’s treating me like I’m both stupid and dangerous. I can’t figure him out, and I’ve given up trying. For my own peace, I turn my energy inward and continue with the mantra. I. Am. Safe. He. Is. Crazy.

He stops talking, and without looking up to check, I know he’s back to glaring at me. I jump in to fill the uncomfortable silence that descends like a thick fog, figuring it’s the fastest way to get him out of my space.

“I understand, Professor, I won’t bother you or anyone else while I’m here. Plus, I’ve got a heap of homework and assignments to get through, and Master Maddern said my meals would be delivered daily.”

His tension coils tighter at my words. Don’t ask me how or why I can feel his emotions, but I can. I shove that mystery into the same box that holds the endless questions I have about gold threads, ravens that manifest from pages to real-life, colored auras, and strange tugs toward beings who are horrid, then I manage to slam the lid shut.

I belatedly realize he said something and is waiting for my response. “Pardon?”

“Other than when we are training, you keep to yourself and stay down here.”

“Heard.” I decide to go with the simple response chefs use, although he clearly takes offense to that too.

He spins more gracefully than a ballerina, and then stomps up the stairs. I give chase to stop him from going anywhere near my things. Imagine the injustice of the world if he had to help me carry my boxes, I’d never hear the end of it.

Bugby takes flight, his wingspan nearly touching both sides of the stairwell, but he’s elegant in his limitation, whereas I thunder up the treads like an elephant.

At the top of the stairs, I nearly crash into Rodderick and my boxes. Bugby is immune to the near collision, doing his pitter-patter dance moves again. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s as eager as I am for some peace and quiet.

“Rodderick, I’ll do it,” I insist, wiggling into the space between him and my boxes.

Not giving him the chance to argue or help, I lift the first box, putting it on the ground to one side before sliding the two big boxes off the trolley—aka my tea chests in hiding. Why I’m the only one who can see that phenomenon is another damn mystery to add to the growing pile.

I turn with the trolley in my hands, and Rodderick has no choice but to move out of the way or get run over. Bugby gives a caw, maybe letting me know he’s staying to watch my stuff.

Neither of us says a word as we walk through the open-layout kitchen and sitting room, though the crabby professor and his arrogant sidekick stop their hushed conversation and turn to watch as we go.

At the door, Rodderick leans in to give me a hug, talking quickly against my ear. “I wouldn’t make excuses for grown men, but when you get a chance, read up on the effects of full moons on Alphas. They’re currently forgetting all their manners and are extra full of themselves, but that doesn’t mean you have to let it affect you. Don’t give anyone that power, Maya. Now, you know where I am if you need me.”

He walks off without a second glance.

I realize, belatedly, why I like him so much. Rodderick is a mash-up of my dad and Mr. Kenney. The three of them share physical traits, along with a propensity for oddly timed inspirational speeches. I can’t comment on what he says regarding my housemates, but his insights about me are spot on. Individuals being rude for no good reason goes hand in hand with being at Thales. Now I have a mountain of homework to get through and about a dozen mysteries to solve.