“It should be Consolidation Day themed like last year,” Cian added, though he didn’t look particularly excited by the prospect. “We can hang the Gifted-American flag all over the place, and have a red, white, and blue cake.”
“Or we could just chill,” Moses muttered, stabbing up the buckwheat pancake Theodore had abandoned.
“I think Elijah said the officials already offered to sponsor another Dorm A party.”
“Must be nice.” Isobel froze, staring down at her plate. Did she just say that out loud? She glanced up. They were all staring at her. “To have coffee,” she finished lamely. “I forgot to get one.”
“Here.” Theodore shifted his mug her way.
“That’s okay.” Her face was starting to burn. Theodore hated people stealing his food or sharing his utensils. He was almost as bad as Gabriel.
“What dorm are you trying to get into again?” Oscar asked blandly, leaning forward to fix narrowed dark eyes on her. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but you’ll be prancing through Dorm A in your rich-girl pyjamas next year right alongside the rest of us spoiled Alphas.”
If Oscar had said that to her a year ago, she would have tried to crawl beneath the table and die. She still wanted to slump down and disappear a little bit, but she also knew that the spark of annoyance in his eye was something he only showed to his friends. If he truly thought so little of her, he would have been ignoring her completely.
“I can’t tell if your issue is with me thinking you’re spoiled or if it’s just my pyjamas.” She popped a mouthful of chocolate chip pancake into her mouth.
“It’s definitely the pyjamas,” Cian supplied, leaning back in his seat to chug half a cup of coffee. “He’s as obsessed as Gabriel is with your underwear.”
Moses glanced up from his breakfast, scanning the faces around the table before he blew out a disappointed breath. “Such a waste. Gabriel isn’t here.”
“Where are those two?” Niko didn’t even look up from his food.
“They got held up,” Isobel muttered.
Everyone glanced at her. Even Niko, who stopped eating for half a second to do so.
“Elijah, um …” She glanced nervously around the table, trying to find the right words in front of the camera. “He overdid it in dance practice. Surged his movements too much.”
Theodore’s brows knit together. “Surged his movements?”
“Uh, yeah, I mean he overextended himself.”
They were silent, several of them checking their phones.
“Can’t wait to question him about that later.” Oscar finally spoke, his tone full of dark humour.
Cian sighed, shaking his head. “Any idea why he might have … overextended himself?” he asked Isobel.
“No idea,” she said quickly.
“Oh?” Niko—who had gone back to his food—suddenly looked up again, his eyes narrowing.
She felt her face, neck, and chest all start to heat up, and she quickly pulled up her palms to cup her cheeks, turning even redder as the warmth flooded into her hands.
“You really don’t know?” Niko asked, his gaze pulling her in.
“I might know,” she blurted, before quickly shaking her head. “I’ve gotta get to my first class.” She shot to her feet, realising she had somehow been sandwiched into the back of the booth with three Alphas either side of her.
She turned her pleading look to Theodore, and he met it with a small, amused smile.
“I want to say that won’t work on me, but nothing’s ever worked better,” he declared, pushing Cian out of the booth and reaching over to drag out an annoyed Moses, who tried to take his plate with him.
Cian grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Let’s go, doll.” He snatched up her bag before she could, and then he hoisted up a third, sending it flying into Moses’ chest. “You’re with us. Sorry to break your absent streak.”
“Was hoping to finish the year without going to a single one of those ridiculous classes,” Moses grumbled beneath his breath, abandoning his breakfast to follow Isobel and Cian out of the hall.
14
The Healing Power Of Crystals. Or Not
Isobel had been in such a rush to escape breakfast that she didn’t even realise how early they were until they spilled into the still-dark, empty classroom. Cian flicked on the lights and took hold of Isobel’s wrist, pulling her to the back of the room. He nudged open the swinging door to the supply closet where Professor Vega kept her psychic paraphernalia. He twisted his body at the last second, pulling her ahead of him and into the cramped space. He stepped in after her, his face carefully blank, and Moses moved in beside him, dropping his bag by the door and reaching over for Isobel’s bag as Cian pulled the door closed behind them.
It wasn’t too dark to see their faces, but the shadows now settling into their features made the flat set of their mouths look more like scowls. She felt along the shelf behind her, knocking over a stack of tarot card boxes.
“What are we doing in here?” She stepped onto a pile of divination textbooks, just so that they wouldn’t be towering over her, and Moses flicked his attention down to her feet with a small shake of his head.
“You’re hiding something.” Cian stepped into her personal space, reaching out to the shelf beside her head. His scent washed over her, saltwater and gentle heat seeping into her pores and making her lick her lips as she tracked him warily with her eyes.
He only grabbed a long, smooth crystal from the shelf, turning it over in his palm with a thoughtful expression.
“Hiding what?” she croaked, glancing between them.
“Elijah and Gabriel.” Moses stepped over a box of meditation cushions, nudging them back toward the door to make room for him and Cian to crowd her up against the shelf. She had no idea if they were trying to intimidate her or simply trying to keep their voices low. “What really happened? Why couldn’t you say it in front of the cameras?”
“Because Elijah surged.” She stared down at her feet. “Gabriel said we had to leave him—”
“He actually surged?” Moses interrupted, like he still couldn’t believe it.
“Surged how?” Cian cocked his head to the side, looking more curious than surprised, a lock of dark gold hair slipping over his forehead, tattooed fingers brushing it absently back.
“What do you mean how?” She switched her attention from her shoes to the roof.
“Isobel.” Cian’s voice lowered to a purr. “Look at me.”
Her attention darted back to his face, her jaw set stubbornly, teeth grinding together.
He cupped her jaw, his thumb slipping up above her chin, brushing beneath the swell of her lip, his eyes darkening to a velvet sapphire, his Alpha ring glittering almost menacingly. He tipped forward, whispering close to her face, “Did he want to fuck you, doll?”
She blinked at him, her stomach swooping. “W-We were just dancing.”
“Hm.” Cian’s attention switched to her mouth. “Do you know what it looks like when someone wants to fuck you? Do you know what it feels like?”
She lifted her chin. “Yes.”