Meh. I shrug.
Bodhi blows out a breath, clearly annoyed with me. “Look, I had a vision about a place where females of the clans are disappearing. Something important is there and we need to go. What do you say?” He comes closer to me, slowly, as if I’m a dangerous animal.
My chest inhales. I’m so tired. Exhausted from years of emptiness.
And tonight? Walking around that ballroom, the scent of the Omegas that didn’t call to me.
The wailing cry of a hawk reaches my ears, and it feels like a sign.
“Hawks are the loneliest birds of prey,” I murmur absently. “Solitary, really. There’s an ancient myth about them: if you hear one at night, it’s a signal to expand your vision of the world, to spread your wings and fly.”
“Okaaaay, then shift and fly,” one of them says. I don’t know which one. My vision is blurred—finally—and my head feels thick as cotton. I welcome the buzz with a sigh of relief.
“I don’t want to shift. Hold this.” I flip the empty whiskey bottle in their direction.
Bodhi catches it then curses as he reaches for my arm. “Rune! Don’t be stupid!”
I dive off the building.
The Cobra, The Bad, and The Asshole
Everly
I thought I was alone inside the planetarium building.
Wrong.
“We’re not killing someone just because they looked at you crossways, Evan,” says a deep male voice from the hallway.
Another voice replies, rough and gravelly. “All it would take is a dagger in the heart, then pop he’s gone. No one would even notice.”
My eyes flare. Dagger? WTF.
The first voice speaks again. “His clan would notice. Then we’d have a whole new set of problems.”
“I’m just glad you care I want to kill,” he replies gruffly. “Six months ago, you tried to bite it. Next time pick a bigger skyscraper.”
“I caught myself on a balcony,” mutters the first voice again, a bit exasperated.
“Fifty floors down” is the sharp retort from a new voice.
Sounds like three people, maybe more.
A line of tension ripples over me as I stuff the last bite of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich into my mouth. I came here to be alone, under the radar. It’s the only way to avoid the gangsters (like these dudes), drug dealers, and mean girls.
My spine straightens as I hear their heavy footsteps approaching. I grab the remainder of my lunch, scurry away from the desk at the front of the darkened planetarium, dash to the middle row, and duck down. The black seats, combined with the dim lighting, hopefully hide me. I briefly consider running out the side exit, but there’s a fire alarm lever there, and the last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself.
The tread of three sets of military-style boots hits the carpet as they walk down the main aisle to the left and to the front. Peeking under the rows, I watch as they head straight to the desk where I was eating. I bite chapped lips realizing I left my half-eaten pear and water.
Forget that.
My body freezes in fear when I recognize who they are: Rune, Bodhi, and Evan. Don’t know their last names and won’t ask. There’s an invisible forcefield around them as they walk around our campus, a Don’t approach me vibe that everyone gets. Except for the women. They flutter around them like beautiful butterflies, especially Bodhi, the one who has an eye for blondes.
Flirty and handsome, he’s an Adonis type, tall with tawny hair and a slick smile. He dresses up his school uniform by rolling the sleeves of his black blazer and showing off his silver bracelets. His red pants are usually split at the hems and have rips throughout. But the best part, my favorite part—and I mean this wholeheartedly—is the dark kohl eyeliner around his turquoise eyes.
I see behind his veneer though. He’s beautiful but deadly, like a cobra who charms you then strikes. I saw him beat the shit out of four guys on the quad once. Whoever his rich parents are, they must carry a ton of clout here because no one stepped in. On the other hand, I’ve observed him at the indoor pool, sneaking off to the locker room with a girl—or three. I’ve dubbed him The Cobra.
And Evan.
A puff of air comes from my lips as I peek at him. Dear God, menace rolls off him in waves. Tall and lean, his tongue is pierced, his head shaven, his skin starkly pale as if he hates the sun. His eyes are black and currently narrowed into slits. And those fluttering butterflies? They fear him. Ah, he’s the one who wants to knife someone…I call him The Bad.
Rune is their leader, the one they gravitate around. I wonder what they did to be sent here to school. Because Crystal Lake certainly isn’t normal. Nope. This is a school for people who don’t (or can’t) fit in anywhere else.
It’s the most dangerous place I’ve ever been—and I’ve seen some shit in my life.
I’ve heard them call each other brother, and maybe they’re triplets. There is a similarity about them. They move the same way, their steps in sync, the dangerous sway of their shoulders identical. They even have the same accent. It’s not British or French or anything I’ve ever heard, but a blend of everything, all mashed up into a smooth, lilting cadence.
About six five, Rune is the biggest with silky, raven-colored hair that’s shaved in the back but longer around his face, the front cut into sharp angles that frame his jawline. His lips are a soft pink and pillowy, a direct contradiction to how that mouth sneers.
His eyes are green, his lashes black, extravagant, and magnificent—if you like cold beauty. He wears his uniform as if it barely fits him, the shoulders tight in his leather jacket, his pants nearly bursting at the seams around his thigh muscles. I bet they had to make a special order for him.
I call him The Asshole.
I’ve only ‘met’ him once. In our class on the first day I arrived, he walked over to me, did a circle around me as if I were prey, heaved out a heavy sigh of disappointment, and sneered the word Human at me then stalked away. Of course I’m human!
He picks up my pear, frowning at it. A flash of something dark ripples over his face.
“What? You’re hungry now?” Bodhi says.
Rune’s lips tighten into his familiar snarl. “It’s not browned. Someone was here. In our territory.”
Three bodies simultaneously stiffen and pivot to do a survey of the planetarium.
“Looks clear to me,” Evan says. “Might have been the wolves or the reds—”
Alex cuts him off with a hand as he takes a long breath in. “Smell anything?”
“Yeah—peanut butter,” says Bodhi in a bored tone, but I sense his lethal gaze sweeping the auditorium.
“Do a check, Evan,” Rune orders.
Evan stalks up the aisle, tossing his knife—dagger—up and down in the air, catching it by the handle. I slide further down, pressing my back to the floor. Currently, I’m halfway in the aisle of the row and halfway under the chairs in front of it. I need to be under the chair all the way. I shove hard, and a metal piece that’s attached to the floor snags on my jacket. Holding my breath, I jerk it and inch under the seat. Pain ripples through my arm as the metal piece scrapes my skin.
“Not one soul,” Evan says with a sigh. “I’m disappointed.”