Page 8 of Plug and Drain

He was half-considering telling her that—that she was pretty—when he heard someone moving about on the other side of the door he’d knocked on.

“Headmaster?” The blonde shifter took an uncertain step forward, then another. “Not her. Please. Choose someone else.”

“Someone else?”

“Yes.”

Arken regarded the woman with puzzlement. She was clearly afraid of him, and yet she confronted him. There was probably a compelling reason for it. He lowered his voice to a deep timbre. “What’s wrong with the wolf in this room?”

The woman swallowed. “She is feeling unwell.”

“And you wish for me to choose someone else to feed on?” The disbelief in his tone should have made her take several steps back.

Her eyes widened, but she amazed him when she took a bold step forward, bringing her within arm’s reach.

“Are you offering?” Arken murmured.

The wolf hesitated. Her reluctance was obvious. But then the door handle behind him rattled, and alarm flashed in her eyes. Her gaze flickered from the door to lock onto his, determination burning in her eyes. “Yes. I’m offering.”

Or maybe it was resignation he saw in her eyes, but in that fraction of a second that he stared into their depths, he was struck by the hint of green contained in the amber glow. So unusual for a wolf.

A heartbeat later, the door swung open, revealing a small, mousy-haired woman with dishevelled clothes and tired eyes.

One glance at her hunched shoulders revealed why the blonde wanted to protect her. The mousy-haired creature standing before him wasn’t simply anxious. She was traumatised, and she looked up at him like a dog who’d been beaten down too many times by a cruel master and was expecting more of the same treatment.

It tugged at his heartstrings, and he made his voice extra soft and pleasant as he spoke. “I’m just…here to see how you are settling in.”

The mousy-haired shifter gave him a confused look.

“You’re a first-year, are you not?” he prompted. He was only guessing, but students who couldn’t cope usually didn’t make it to the second year. Wolves needed a thick skin to survive at the academy.

“I-I am,” the first-year stammered, her gaze darting past him to the other wolf.

“Excellent,” he said cheerfully, shoving his hands in his pockets as he tried to think of a way to end the conversation quickly. “Well, that’s…excellent. That will be all. Goodnight.”

The mousy-haired wolf swallowed and mouthed the word ‘goodnight’, but no sound came out.

When she continued to stare at him, he added, “You may shut the door now.”

“O-oh,” she said, barely managing to stammer even that single syllable as she shut the door.

Arken made a mental note to check on her later. Or to at least send someone to check on her. It was important to nurture the well-being of first-years, especially at the start of the school year, as they adapted to the academy’s expectations. She seemed like a perfectly viable wolf, assuming her anxiety could be dealt with. Presently, she seemed far too jittery to appeal to most of his vampire students.

He sucked his bottom lip thoughtfully and glanced down the corridor. The subtle glow of the enchanted lamps, which had been flickering with green flames, slowly transitioned to purple. He wasn’t sure if it meant anything—the logic of witches was a curious thing—but it lent an eeriness to the corridor.

A shuffling sound caught his attention. The blonde-haired wolf was still there. He hadn’t exactly forgotten about her, but the blood loss made his attention shift in interesting ways as if he were in a daze.

Arken rubbed his hands together as he turned to face the wolf. “Right. What is your name?”

“Susanna.”

“Susanna,” he repeated, rolling the name on his tongue. Somehow, the name didn’t suit her. Perhaps, it was the way she’d said it, as if it were foreign to her as well. “Is that what your friends call you?”

She hesitated. “Susie. That’s what my friends call me.”

He didn’t miss the subtle implication in her tone. Only her friends had the privilege of calling her by her nickname.

Fair enough.