Chapter 1 1
Rhea's Pov
Chapter 1
Mondays suck.
Two classes before noon, three more to survive after lunch. My coffee’s already cold and somehow I still don’t feel awake.
“You’re going to spill that,” Isolde warns, eyeing the cup in my hand.
“I like to live dangerously,” I mumble and take a sip. Cold. Figures.
“You’d think someone with a wolf inside her would at least have coordination.” she snorts.
I glance at her, the only person who knows even part of what I am. “And you’d think a witch would at least have a warming spell, apparently not.”
She grins, proud anyway. “You’d burn your tongue. It's for the best.”
"Stingy."
We navigate our way through the hall. Students buzz all around, excited voices overlapping. Something about new professors.
Isolde noticed my ears perking and couldn't help talking.
“Apparently they’re twins. The art girls having been fawning since they came this morning. Says they look like they came off a magazine cover.”
“Maybe they did. Who knows, who cares?"
She bumps my shoulder. “You never get excited about anyone.”
“I like peace. Humans are noisy.”
"And having wolf ears doesn't help. Does it?" Nyra my wolf, growls inside me.
"Not it doesn't, so I'll appreciate if you just shut up."
She ignores me and continues. "All this wouldn't happen if you just went to a pack instead of pretending to be one these things."
"They're not things, they're humans and didn't I say you should shut up."
She huffs but quiets.
By the time we reach the next building, I’m already half-drained. Contemporary Myth and Symbolism is next. Supposedly a new course and the new professors’ first lecture.
The hall is larger than I expected, wide windows, rows of desks shaped like an arc, sunlight seeping in and the smell of rain in the air. Though it hadn't rained all week.
I sit in the middle with Isolde, my fingers drumming on the desk. For some reason, my chest feels tight and restless.
“You think they’ll be hot?” Isolde asks.
“If they’re professors, they're probably middle-aged. So I guess as hot as forty can get."
She smiles. “You’ll see.”
I ignore her and focus on my notes instead. My hands still smell faintly of the herbs from this morning’s masking potion Isolde made, the one that hides my scent and keeps Hunters or other wolves from noticing what I am.
"They’d never sense us," Nyra says, smug. "Unless you start twitching under the moon."
"Shut up."
“What?” Isolde asks.
“Nothing,” I mutter. “just talking to myself.”
She rolls her eyes. “Creepy.”
The door opens before I can answer.
Silence falls.
Two men walk in and for a heartbeat, I forget to breathe.
They’re identical, same dark hair, same broad shoulders, same perfect jawline that looks as if it was carved by the gods themselves. They were also very tall and moved with a quiet confidence that doesn’t belong in a lecture hall. The suits they wore fit too well against their muscular built.
One’s eyes are pale gray, calm and unreadable. The other’s are almost black, sharp with mischief.
The air itself feels different now, charged, heavier. My pulse stutters.
"Not human," Nyra whispers, suddenly alert. "Definitely not."
My stomach flips.
Wolves? Here? That can’t be.
Did they trace me here? Were they here to capture me?
For years, I've been hiding from wolves now. Always running and moving with no real place to belong. Before my mother died she told me what I was, a half human, half wolf hybrid. And that I should always hide my nature. Both from wolves and humans.
So here I was, in my third city in six months.
Oh what was I so worried about? The herbs should hide my scent, even from them.
“Good morning,” the gray-eyed one says, voice smooth enough to pull every gaze his way. “I’m Professor Lucien Vale. This is my brother, Professor Damian Vale.”
The whole room listens. Even Isolde focuses her entire gaze on them.
“We’ll be teaching this course together,” Lucien continues. “Two perspectives. Two sides of the same story.”
Damian flashes a grin. “Which means we’ll probably argue. A lot.”
Laughter breaks out, but I can barely hear it over the rush in my ears.
Lucien’s gaze drifts across the rows of students, steady and slow. When it meets mine, everything inside me stills. He doesn’t look away for a while, and suddenly it feels like eternity.
"He’s looking right at us," Nyra murmurs. "He knows."
"He doesn’t," I think back, gripping my pen until it digs into my skin.
But Nyra’s not convinced.
"But you feel that, don’t you? The pull?"
I do. It hums beneath my ribs, strange and familiar at once.
The lecture goes on. Words about myths and balance, about dark and light, life and death. I try to listen, but every sound of Lucien’s voice sinks deep. Damian interrupts with jokes, earning laughter. The twins are opposites in rhythm but the same in nature; both draw attention like magnets.
And both, I realize, keep glancing my way.
By the time the class ends, my head feels light. I gather my books fast. “Let’s go,” I whisper to Isolde.
“I’ll catch up." She says, turning to me. "What happened? You look pale. You okay?”
“Fine,” I lie, already walking out.
I’m halfway to the door when I hear my name.
“Rhea Hale?”
I stop and slowly turn.
Lucien stands there, holding one of my notebooks. “You dropped this.”
“Oh. Thank you.” I reach out carefully, not wanting to touch him, but my fingers still did anyway.
The world freezes.
Heat surges under my skin, quick and bright. Nyra goes utterly silent, then breathes one word that’s half-a-growl, half-a-plea.
Mate.
I freeze.
Mate? That means they could smell me. Potion or no potion, they know what I am.
Lucien’s eyes widen the slightest bit, the calm breaking for a second. He felt it too. I know he did.
Behind him, Damian watches, that grin of his changing, less teasing now, more knowing. “Brother,” he calls softly, “you felt that.”
Lucien doesn’t answer. He’s still looking at me.
My breath shakes. I take a step back, clutching the notebook to my chest like a shield.
Nyra isn’t calm anymore. "Claim them, Claim them," she urges.
No! My thoughts stumble. I don’t even know them!
But my body isn’t listening. My pulse races; my skin hums with awareness I can’t shut off. I turn toward the door, desperate for space.
“Rhea.” His voice stops me again.
I try not to look back and continue toward the door but he catches my wrist. The shock of contact sends a wave of heat through me.
He’s close enough that I feel his presence, warm and heavy behind me. His touch burns, light and impossible to ignore.
The air feels thick, like a storm about to break.
Before I can speak, Damian’s shadow joins his brother’s. He moves with lazy confidence until they’re both around me, too near, too much. The scent of rain and pine surrounds everything.
Nyra is a wild heartbeat in my head.
Damian leans in, voice quiet and edged with something dangerous.
“Where do you think you’re going?”