Chapter 44 44
AESON’S POV
Those sharp, sea-colored eyes squinted up at me, clouded with pain and surprise. The force of her running into me had been considerable; I’d felt the slight, solid weight of her, the way her scent—jasmine and something uniquely, frustratingly her—had momentarily enveloped me. That strange, distinct pull I’d felt since the night at the bar twitched in my gut again, an unwelcome internal tug.
I forced it down, masking it with a flicker of irritation as I twitched my nose, feigning nothing but annoyance at the disruption.
She rubbed her forehead, letting out a pained wheeze. “You!” she accused, pointing a finger at me as if I were the one who’d come barreling around the corner like a startled deer.
“Are you blind?” I sneered, the words coming out with more bite than I’d intended.
“Really?” she shot back, her voice regaining its fire. “Don’t you watch where you’re going? Or are you just good at barking orders?”
I grunted, a low, dismissive sound, and brushed at the spot on my crisp, grey coat where her head had connected. A pointless gesture, but it gave me something to do other than look at her.
She watched the motion, her eyes narrowing. “Yes. Do that,” she hissed. “Your thousand-dollar suit must be more precious than my head, which you almost broke with that stone slab you call a chest.”
A smirk touched my lips, unbidden. I took a deliberate step forward, my polished shoe nearly stepping on a stray sheet of paper that had fluttered to the toe of my other shoe. “Well, for your information, it’s a twenty-thousand-dollar suit,” I corrected, my voice cool. “And I’m sure no one has ever spared you such a sum. You’d treat it with more care.”
Her face flushed a satisfying shade of pink. “Twenty thousand dollars? I don’t care. And you’re sick for uttering those last words.” She bent down, snatching the paper from the floor as if it were a lifeline, and made to push past me.
My hand shot out, closing around her upper arm. The contact was electric, a jolt of warmth through the fine wool of her sleeve. “Hey…!”
She flinched but didn’t pull away immediately. Her gaze dropped to where my fingers gripped her. “Listen,” I said, my voice dropping. “You should do the needful.”
“What?”
“You’re to say sorry.”
“Let go.” She tried to yank her arm back, but my grip was firm. Then she let out a short, bitter chuckle. “I owe you no apology.”
“You—”
“Arielle?!”
My niece’s voice, bright and concerned, cut through the tense bubble. I felt the girl in my grasp go rigid. She shut her eyes tightly, a look of pure, weary resignation crossing her face, as if she’d failed to escape an unavoidable crisis.
I released her arm just as Mandy appeared behind her, her expression shifting from worry to confusion as she took in the scene.
“Why are you here? My uncle…” Mandy’s gaze finally landed on me. “Oh, Uncle, you’re here! I just left the Chancellor’s office looking for you.” She looked past me, down the empty hallway I’d come from, and blinked. “You took the unusual exit. Why?”
I fixed her with a flat stare. “What’s that with you? Are you questioning me?”
“No! I just… I thought you’d taken the back exit and left without me.” Her voice was a little too hurried, her plan transparent.
My eyes barely flickered toward the girl—Arielle—who was now standing stiffly, looking anywhere but at us. I started to move past them. “Let’s go.”
“Wait.” Mandy’s voice held a rare note of insistence. I stopped and turned my head, a silent command for her to be quick. She took a step closer, gesturing toward her friend. “Um, Arielle here is in a fix.”
I looked at her, allowing a sliver of bored curiosity onto my face. Arielle herself just looked away, her long lashes fluttering against her cheek in a nervous, distracting rhythm.
Mandy barreled on, her words tumbling out in a rehearsed rush. “She needs accommodation close to the college. She can’t be coming all the way from her pack every day. And like I mentioned the other time at dinner, I was thinking… she could live with us. At the packhouse. It’s the perfect solution.”
“No,” Arielle cut in sharply, stretching out a hand as if to physically stop Mandy’s words. The movement drew my gaze back to her.
Mandy, undeterred, walked back to her and dropped her voice to a stage whisper that carried perfectly in the quiet hallway. “Hey, there is no other way. Unless you don’t want to go to college at all. You heard the Registrar.”
Arielle’s eyes met mine then, just for a vague, fleeting second, before lowering again. I could see the conflict warring in her expression—pride, desperation, sheer stubbornness. She was pondering it, weighing her options against the monumental weight of her own defiance.
I broke the silence, my tone deliberately bored and irritated. “I don’t have any concern about your friend’s problem, Mandy. I definitely don’t have time to waste on student housing issues. Let’s go.” I turned fully, preparing to walk away, the dismissal final.
“Wait.”
Her voice rang out, clear and firm, stopping me in my tracks. My lips curved, just a fraction, in the privacy of my own satisfaction.
I schooled my features back to neutrality before turning to look at her. “Yes?”
She walked up to me, stopping at a respectful but defiant distance away. Her shoulders were back, but her fingers were twisting the strap of her bag.
“Um, is it possible,” she began, pausing to glance back at Mandy, who gave her an eager, encouraging nod, “to get an accommodation in your pack… Alpha?” Her tone had shifted. The fire was banked, replaced by something softer, more formal. Almost respectful. She added, hurriedly, “I’ll pay rent for it.”
She looked at me then, not with the raw irritation or intolerance from a moment ago, but with a wary, searching hope. Deep down, a cold part of me acknowledged the truth. This was it. She had walked right into the corner she’d been backing away from. She was asking.
A few minutes earlier, after stepping out of the Chancellor’s office, I’d seen Mandy talking to her, gesturing animatedly. I’d watched from a distance as Arielle shook her head, her body language screaming refusal. So I’d taken the other, longer hallway, timing my steps, ensuring our paths would cross. A coincidence, engineered. I’d wanted to see what she’d do, what she’d say when there was no escape route left.
My eyes raked over her now, from the top of her disheveled dark hair down to her practical boots, taking my time. I noticed the faint twitch in her jaw, the way her throat moved as she swallowed.
“Yes,” I said, the word simple. “It’s possible.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh…”
I let the silence stretch for a beat, watching the fragile hope begin to solidify. Then I spoke again, my voice low. “But what else can you offer… other than rent?”
She blinked, the confusion plain on her face.