by Coralee June
Stiles simply shrugged, as if my outrage didn’t matter, and signalled to the bartender, who immediately brought him a glass of fresh blood. He took a long swallow before deigning to respond. “This is Thibault. Did you really expect anything else? They have a reputation to uphold. You think these polished wood floors and marble statues pay for themselves?” he asked, waving a hand around the room. “Thibault is one of the most prestigious supernatural academies in the world, because they cater to the rich and powerful. You don’t fit into that demographic. I’ve been telling you that you don’t belong here for years.”
I wanted to rage at him. “Why are you even over here talking to me?” I asked, wanting him gone. In our five years of attending this academy together, he’d only ever either ignored me completely or bullied me alongside some of the other entitled assholes here.
“Can’t I come over here for a chat with my half-sister?”
I cocked a dark brow. “Careful. You wouldn’t want for people to overhear. The Trant family name would be tainted,” I said bitterly.
Stiles took another drink from his glass. “I never said you tainted the Trant family name,” he said, making me wary. “I just said you didn’t belong here, and I stand by that. I think my point has been proven hundreds of times by now, don’t you?” he asked rhetorically. “Every time you were ridiculed. Every time you were looked down on—not just from our peers, but even the professors. Tonight should prove it to you once and for all. I was meant to come to Thibault. You weren’t. But you never accepted your place, so you suffered through this needlessly.”
Needlessly.
He called my suffering needless. As if it was my fault. As if I deserved to be treated this way simply because I was a poor bastard.
Stiles fucking Trant was handed everything on a silver platter, and I hated him for it.
I suddenly felt utterly exhausted. I was so tired. So tired of always keeping my head up despite how everyone looked down on me. Tired of pushing myself to be the best and never getting any recognition for it. I was tired of being the Trant’s dirty secret.
All that work. All that...enduring. The fucking juvenile bullying. Being passed over. Being known as Thibault’s charity case. I handled it all with my chin up and a chip on my shoulder—all because I knew graduating from Thibault and getting a placement was my only shot at digging myself out of the proverbial slums.
And none of it mattered.
“Just go away, Stiles,” I said defeatedly, turning away from him.
I didn’t have it in me to fight for myself right now. I felt the hot prickles of tears behind my eyes, which was crazy, because I never cried. I kept my emotions in boxes and shoved those impassioned bitches deep, deep down in the cellar of my soul.
I heard Stiles sigh, and then he was slipping another drink in my direction and leaving cash on the bartop to pay for his and mine. “For what it’s worth, Motley, at least you can leave now. Find some place where you fit in. Life will be easier for you that way.”
He got up and sauntered away, immediately being welcomed into the vampire cliques and having a great fucking time shooting the shit with them.
I left the drink he’d bought me untouched on the bartop.
As soon as I was on my feet, I flashed away using my vampiric speed, even though I probably shouldn’t have since I was a bit unsteady on my feet from all the spiked blood I’d ingested.
Everyone was a blur as I passed by, their smiling faces full of excitement, which was taunting to the despair I felt. It wasn’t until I was back in my dorm room with the door slammed shut behind me that I finally let free the ragged breath stuck in my chest.
Gods, my life sucked.
I ran a hand down my face, not caring that I was definitely smudging my makeup. At least Stiles had been right about the one thing I could look forward to. After tomorrow night, I could finally be done with Thibault, and I could leave all of these people behind.
I’d worry about how I was going to live and take care of Aunt Marie later. For now, I just wanted to sleep and forget.
I tucked the loose strands of my red hair behind my ears and kicked off my shoes, letting them slam against the wall. It was a good thing my roommate wasn’t around, or she’d have plenty to say about the noise it made. I slumped on the bed and let my head hang down.
It just wasn’t fair. None of it. I’d been busting my ass all my life, working twice as hard as everyone else to make up for my unimpressive circumstances. I’d done everything in my power to claw my way out of poverty. I kept to myself. I’d endured the bullying from entitled rich kids. Buried my head in textbooks and played the studious, unflappable role, and for what?
“Fucking assholes. All of them,” I murmured while standing up and stripping out of my graduation gown. I let the smooth fabric pool on the ground, but I stopped before removing my uniform skirt when I noticed an envelope on my pillow.
It was perfectly placed, with my name typed on the front. I glanced around the room, noting that there was an identical envelope on my roommate’s bed, too. That was odd.
Tentatively, I walked over and picked mine up, flipping it over and noting the unique seal with the letter S on the back in hardened gold wax.
I ripped it open and tore out the thick parchment.
Dear Miss Motley Coven,
You have been selected for an internship position at Spector Incorporated. This is a very selective and classified program, intended for only the most qualified. We invite you to attend a banquet tomorrow evening at eight o’clock, where you will be inducted into the program and start your training immediately. Formal attire is required, and food and drinks will be served. An escort will be sent to bring you to the banquet should you choose to accept this offer.
Please be advised: For purposes of sensitive information not to be compromised, you are not permitted to discuss this invitation or Spector Incorporated.
Sincerely,
Lorenzo Belvini
President, Spector Inc.
I read the words over and over again, trying to make sense of the cryptic invitation. After a third read-through of the invite, I had the thing memorized, right down to the president’s suave name. I’d never heard of Spector Inc. before, so I didn’t know a damn thing about them.
For the first time since opening my empty diploma, my hopes had lifted. I had a placement.
I had a fucking placement!
A smile spread across my face, and I let out a relieved half-laugh, half-sigh. This position sounded not only incredibly exclusive, but secretive too.
I went to bed that night thanking the Spector gods. And while I might know fuck-all about them, I did know one thing—I was going to take this internship and pave my way to a better life for Aunt Marie and myself once and for all.
Chapter 2
“You’re not wearing that, are you?” My roommate’s nasally voice sounded from the corner of our small dorm room as she looked me up and down. “You look kinda...homely.”
My teeth clenched at her words. She was about as bitchy as she was predictable. But above all else, Cheryl was talkative. I had to brace myself for yet another one of her monologues.
“You know, my second cousin’s ex-girlfriend is a stylist in Milan. She has so many dresses just lying around. But they’re all size four, and I’m a size two. Like what, am I supposed to just gain twenty pounds to fit in some Gucci? No, thank you.”
I stood in front of our ornate full length mirror, doing my best to ignore her. I pulled at the soft, satin material of my blood-red dress I was wearing. It wasn’t anything fancy, but I felt sexy despite whatever the fuck Cheryl said.
The dress was long with a subtle slit up the thigh that showed off enough of my porcelain vampire skin to be sensual while still maintaining some elegance. The front dipped between my cleavage and curved in the shape of a heart. My Aunt Marie had sewed it for me last year, using discount fabric that probably cost her a few precious blood bags.
It wasn’t a designer dre
ss, but it was made with love and matched my red ombré hair and lipstick perfectly. I had spoken to my aunt on the phone earlier, but since I wasn’t allowed to talk about Spector, I kept up my original lie to her and told her I was attending an orientation for the council job tonight. The pride in her tone made the lie worth it. I just hoped this secretive internship worked out.
“I’ve never really liked Gucci,” I replied with a bored sigh while clasping a cheap bracelet around my wrist. I’d never even seen a designer gown up close, let alone had enough money to purchase such a thing. But I’d learned over the years that it was easier to go along with Cheryl’s monologues than point out how vastly different our socioeconomic situations were.
In the reflection, I could see my roommate sipping on her bloody cocktail, her feet dangling in some sky high stilettos that no doubt cost more than a year’s tuition. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed yet and was lounging around in her black lace lingerie, probably hoping to entice our escort for the evening.
It drove me insane that she’d received an invitation too. Five years of sharing a room with her should have been torture enough, but no. It seemed that fate wanted me to spend even more of my life listening to her nasally, never-ending voice.
To be honest, Spector lost a bit of its prestige in my eyes since they’d invited her. Cheryl was...well, Cheryl. Annoying as fuck and dumb to boot. The only reason she was in Thibault was because her family apparently had good blood and an even better bank balance.
Our escort was supposed to be here any minute, and I had no doubt that Cheryl would make it a point to answer the door still in her underwear. She was always trying to entice prominent members of our society, no matter how inappropriate. She liked to be desired.
“I still don’t understand why they invited you too,” Cheryl whined, not for the first time. She’d been making subtle digs at me ever since she saw me with my letter. “I mean, if it was a blood thing, you wouldn’t have been invited,” she mused. “Your last name is totally unimportant. Who did you say your father was again?”
I shrugged. “Just some weak vamp vagabond douche,” I lied. One major stipulation for attending Thibault and receiving our annual allowance was to never reveal who my father was. It was a secret I was happy to keep. Aunt Marie couldn’t work because of her bloodlust, and if we ever lost the tiny stipend the Trants secretly sent us, there was no way we could survive.
“Hmm. Well, Spector can’t have made their selections for being well connected or having money. Because you don’t have those either,” she pointed out.
“Right, and I guess it can’t be intelligence, because that would rule out your attendance,” I shot back.
“Oh, please. No one cares about that,” she huffed.
“Yes, they do,” I argued, but some of the usual fire behind my words had tempered. I’d always believed that being smart mattered. That I could change my circumstances if I worked hard enough.
I got accepted to Thibault Academy’s scholarship program because I was smart. I stayed at the top of my class because I was driven. But Thibault had taught me that intelligence and drive really didn’t matter, and that was just fucking depressing.
But dammit, I didn’t care what Cheryl thought. I deserved this opportunity.
And tonight? I had every intention of standing up and claiming it. No amount of insecure bullshit or outside hate was going to keep me from the future I wanted.
I would do whatever it took until I had a job that would protect and provide for Aunt Marie and me.
“I saw you talking to Stiles Trant last night,” Cheryl said as she continued lying on her bed, her blood martini glass balanced in her hand like she was posing for a photo shoot in Vogue Vampires. “I tasted him last month, you know. And not just his blood, if you know what I mean,” she said, wagging her brows. “His cock was impressive too. Not the biggest I’ve seen—shifters are traditionally bigger—but it was big enough to make waves.”
I made a disgusted face at the mention of his...parts. She might not know that he was my brother, but I did, and this was the last thing I ever wanted to hear about. Fucking gross.
“Cool. Are you gonna get dressed or what?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation away.
Cheryl sat up, letting her short blonde hair bob around her jaw. She’d hated it when I’d become her roommate five years ago. She always bragged that she was some baroness in her homeland of Germany, but her family had split off to come live in the states so that she could attend Thibault, since this program was the best for vampires. Baronesses shouldn’t have to share a room with bastards, she’d said. I’d traded out all of her uniforms so they were three sizes too big for her for that.
“He was delicious,” she prattled on, ignoring my attempts at changing the subject. “You could practically taste the superior breeding in him. He was like a fine glass of Pinot Noir from the vineyards of Italy. Have you ever been to Italy? My family owns a chateau there overlooking a cliff...” she went on and on and on, drawing out each word and running her tongue over her fangs like the sound of her own annoying prissy voice was getting her off. “I should invite Stiles there. My family would love him.”
“Do you blow everyone you want to drink, or is that just a paragon thing?” I asked.
Her brown eyes flashed over at me. “Ohmygods, you’re, like, totally jealous, aren’t you?” she asked, drawing out her valley girl accent before giving me a pitying look. “You have to understand, you’re just not really in Stiles Trant’s league, you know? Don’t take it personally. You can’t help that you’re not as pure blooded or pretty as me.”
Oh for shifter shit’s sake.
I sighed and tossed my mascara on the desk behind me. ”What did I do in a past life to deserve you as a roommate?” I mumbled under my breath while smoothing my hair.
“What?”
I turned around to face her. “I don’t care about Stiles Trant or your little suck and fuck session. I care about this internship opportunity from Spector.”
Cheryl rolled her eyes and placed her glass down on the bedside table before standing up and walking over to me. “For how smart you claim to be, you sure are ignorant sometimes,” she said, looking me up and down with a clear dismissal. “You were obviously invited tonight for political reasons.”
I tensed, though I tried not to show that her words made my insides stutter. After five years, I should’ve known better than to engage with her or let her bother me. But fuck, she was a bitch, and it was hard to always keep my guard up. “How do you mean?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” she asked with a blasé laugh. She reached forward to tug on one of my wavy red locks like she was a critical mother fixing her daughter’s hair. “It’d look very good for Spector to hire on a charity case as an intern, wouldn’t it? You know how it goes,” she said with a bored shrug. “They need diversity. Less powerful supes to make them appear inclusive. But no one actually wants you there.”
My gut twisted.
I didn’t know anything about Spector, so I couldn’t know if she was lying or not, but honestly...it was something that happened regularly. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was just offered a charity case position to make Spector Inc. look better. Hell, Thibault had done it.
A knock suddenly sounded on the door, but before I could turn toward it, Cheryl grabbed my arm, holding me in place. She leaned in and grazed her lips against my ear. “It’s better you realize that they’re not actually interested now, rather than embarrass yourself later. I’m doing you a favor,” she said before placing a kiss on my jaw and spinning away to the door.
My fists clenched at my sides.
I suddenly felt very stupid.
But then again...so what if Spector wanted a poster child for underprivileged supes?
Fuck it.
I’d be the best damn poster child vamp they’d ever seen. They wanted to use me? Well, I’d use them right back. There was nothing wrong with mutual benefits.
I fixed a perfect
smile on my face, pushing down the disarming disappointment swirling around in my gut. I watched Cheryl adjust her boobs in her bra before she swung open the door. She thrust her hip out and leaned against the frame, eyeing whoever was on the other side.
My eyes widened when I noticed it was my damn brother.
What the fuck was he doing here?
“Oh! Stiles! I didn’t know it would be you escorting us tonight,” she said with excitement.
He gave her a terse nod, sweeping that cobalt blue gaze up and down her slender body. “I’ve been interning for Spector for six months,” he told her before his gaze flicked over her shoulder to look at me.
At seeing me standing there, his entire body tensed. His blue eyes widened for a fraction of a second before flicking over to the door that Cheryl was still holding, as if double checking he’d gotten the right room number.
“Motley,” he said slowly. “Shouldn’t you have moved out of Thibault today?”
“I would’ve...If I hadn’t gotten an invitation from Spector,” I said, holding up the envelope with my name clearly typed on it.
“That’s...that’s not possible,” he said, storming in past Cheryl.
He snatched up the envelope and opened it, probably double checking to make sure my name was there. When he read the letter clearly addressed to me, he tossed it down on my desk and ran a hand through his blond hair. “There must have been a mistake. You can’t have been selected for this.”
My teeth snapped together in annoyance. It was always the same fucking thing with him. He was pissed about me getting into Thibault, and now he was pissed about me getting into Spector, too.
“It’s not like I knew you were in this program,” I said, defensive anger lacing my words. “I hadn’t even heard about it before last night.
