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Scared, even.
After all, I’m pretty sure that I’m heading into unfriendly territory and the task before me will be anything but easy.
But as I stare out the tinted windows, studying the faces of the potential students milling around the grassy quad at the center of the posh-looking campus—throwing frisbees and eating muffins wrapped in soggy brown paper or whispering behind their hands about another group lounging on the other side of the lawn—all I feel is…old.
True, some of my fellow orientation goers are still teenagers, but many aren’t. Thanks to forced military service still obligatory in many packs and various shifter-reject drama, Natalie said the average age of a first-year student is actually twenty-two.
It’s more their energy that makes me feel old. The shine of hope and innocent excitement in their eyes, the absence of the cold rage that’s sustained me for so long. Most of these kids look like they’re here to get a degree and make new friends, not rest up and formulate a plan for the hostile takeover of their father’s pack.
I remind myself that my fellow students wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t been through some kind of hell—this is a school for rejects, after all—but my gut isn’t buying it.
“Everyone looks so happy,” Ford mutters beside me in the back seat, making me huff beneath my breath.
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” I whisper. “It’s weird.”
He glances my way, his silver eyes locking with mine enough to make my stomach tremble. It’s been that way since that lapse in judgment in his bedroom, but I wouldn’t take it back. It’s been a long time since I felt that powerful or…calm. Even when he’s making me burn, something about Ford soothes the savage, feral thing inside me.
And bossing him around as he writhed beneath me was very,verysatisfying.
Who knows. Maybe I’m a Domme in the bedroom or something.
Wouldn’t that be hilarious? The pint-sized Domme and her giant submissive stepbrother. It sounds like a bad skin flick, the kind a hair too kinky for consumption by normal people.
But even as the thought twists through my head, another part of me argues that Ford is right. We never really lived together or had a “familial” relationship of any kind. Before the past week, I spent more time with my classmates and best friends in college than I ever did with Ford. He’s my stepbrother in name only and hooking up with him isn’t as kinky as it looks on paper.
That voice, however, is as dangerous as anything lurking behind these walls. That voice has the potential to screw up all my plans, and I don’t intend to let that happen.
So, I ignore the tight, achy feeling between my thighs when Ford squeezes my knee and promises, “I’ll find you at dinner, okay? If not before.”
We told Natalie we weren’t interested in second breakfast today. We’re ready to get down to more serious business than eating. Like meeting our dormmates and booking an appointment with the campus medical department to have my tracking device and shifter prevention system removed.
By this time next week, I might finally know what it feels like to live inside another body for a while. The possibility is enough to push thoughts of Ford’s lips and hands and all the other parts of him I’m increasingly fascinated by from my head.
I nod and sit up straighter, glancing past him to the tall, gray stone building with the massive turrets on either side. “Very gothic.”
Ford leans down to get a glimpse at the top of the structure as Natalie parks the car in front. “Very pretentious.”
“Oh, it is not,” Natalie says, piping up for the first time in nearly an hour. She thankfully realized pretty early on in the drive that we weren’t in the mood for easy banter. “It’s historic and lovely.” She turns to smile at us over the front seat. “And the oldest dorm on campus so be sure to get to the showers early in the morning if you want hot water. Your dorm isn’t nearly as fancy to look at, Juliet, but the hot water is abundant. Do you want to go with me to walk Ford in and get a tour? The common rooms are gorgeous.”
“It’s okay, I’ll stay here,” I say, figuring it’s better for Ford to meet the other wolves without a Variant in tow. We want them to speak freely in front of him. At least at first.
“All right.” Natalie’s smile stretches wider as she motions toward the quad. “Feel free to stretch your legs if you like. I’ll be back in about fifteen, twenty minutes.”
“Hang in there, Growly,” Ford says, brushing my hair from my forehead. “Play nice with your new friends and I’ll see you later.”
I smirk up at him. “You, too, Titsworth. Hope the other puppies don’t tease you too much.”
“Yeah, not much chance of that.” He groans and rolls his eyes, more to lighten the mood, I think, than because of any real worries about his silly new last name.
Ford also realizes we have much bigger things to worry about than being the butt of dumb jokes.
That’s the only reason I feel such a connection to him. We’ve lived such similar lives the past two years and we have the immunity to petty concerns to prove it. But that’s where our similarities end, and I would be an idiot to forget it.
Ford wants to share Hammer’s throne, but once he realizes I’m serious about ruling alone, he might very well try to take what’s mine. And Ford is a newbie here, too, but he’s an Alpha wolf, at the top of the Lost Moon food chain, and he mastered control of his shifted form before he started kindergarten.
I have so much catching up to do it’s laughable.
And probably impossible, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to give it everything I’ve got. Paloma told me time and again that escaping the circus was impossible, too, but I did it. Yes, I had Ford’s help, but I’ll have his help now, too. No matter what might happen between us once my father’s ousted, I trust that Ford has my back right now.
