A commotion near the door draws my attention. A man is leaning over a table with both palms pressed flat on the top, his head dropped low.
I move to stand up as he lists to the side, looking as if he may fall over. A woman rushes into the doorway, her cheeks flushed pink as she moves right over to the man and ducks her head under his arm. The man looks down at the woman, and his eyes are soft, adoring as he gazes at her.
“You were supposed to wait for me,” she chastises him softly.
“I got thirsty,” he mumbles back, and curls around her in a hug before releasing her. “I’ll be right back.” He stumbles forward, but the woman easily catches him.
Rob places his hand on my shoulder as I begin to lift from my seat. It’s clear the man needs help, he must be drunk or something.
I glance at Rob, but Alice is the one to speak. “He’s fine, Quinn,” she assures me with a nod.
“But…” I look back over to see the man pushed up against the wall with the much smaller woman in front of him, holding him up. He’s still wearing the soft smile while gazing down at her. He leans down, and the woman pushes up just in time to seal her lips to his. I should look away, but I don’t. I watch as the man’s hand comes up as he traces his fingers over the woman’s back, her head tilting to the side as their kiss deepens.
I do look away then, but only to glance around to see who else is paying attention to the couple. There are a few people watching them, but it’s not with the same slight embarrassment I am. No, it’s more like they’re enjoying the show.
“Quinn, I promise he’s fine, a little bite drunk, that’s it.” Alice is peeling off the top few flaky layers of another dessert to get down to the cream below, seemingly unaffected by the display.
“Oh, oh okay.” I flush. I probably should have caught on sooner, but I’ve never seen someone right after a vampire bite…well, maybe I have out at a club or something, but then I probably wouldn’t have even known if that was the case.
Noah leans over the table and snags my attention. “Speaking of vamps, have you met Stone?”
“Director Stone?” I question, even though I know there’s only one Stone he could be referring to.
“Headmaster Stone,” Millie corrects me, finally speaking up. The one letter I received with his name only had G. Stone on the signature line, with Director of Havenfall Harbor beneath it.
“No, I haven’t had the pleasure,” I respond.
Alice spews small bites of dough and cream from her lips, laughing as they fly across the table to land right before Rob’s plate. “Ally, come on. You’re not twelve,” he admonishes her, but he can’t hide his grin.
Alice’s head tilts back and she howls with laughter. I look around, noticing we’re attracting more attention than the vampire and her donor.
“Haven’t…had…the…pleasure,” Alice says through her chortle. “You have no idea how perfect…” She shakes her head and covers her eyes, trying to take a deep breath.
I’m obviously not privy to the joke here, but because of her reaction, I’m assuming Stone is going to be the opposite of pleasurable. While Alice calms herself down, I start to pile the little pieces of trash onto my plate to clear the table.
Millie has been picking at her plate for a while, and Rob’s is already empty. “I’m sorry, Quinn, that’s just…you’ll understand when you meet him,” Alice tells me, laying her hand over mine. I give her an appreciative smile. I know she wasn’t laughing at me.
“It was worth it to see you shoot cream puff out your nose,” I retort. Alice dabs a napkin under her nose, her eyes dancing with mirth.
After the table settles, I gaze around the room. “Thanks for the dinner invite, guys. I appreciate it, but I’m going to head up to my room, unpack, and hose myself off.” I tug at my shirt a few times.
“You’re welcome to sit with us anytime,” Rob replies kindly.
“Are you sure? I’ll probably take you up on that,” I warn.
“Anytime,” Alice reiterates. “Do you need me to take you back up?”
“No, I have a pretty good sense of direction, I think I’ll be okay. Thank you though. See you guys tomorrow.” I rise, taking my tray with me. “Where do I put this?” I mutter absently. As I look around, I spy the trash bin and a slot for the tray. “Got it,” I state, before anyone can respond. I wave over my shoulder again once my hands are empty and head out of the cafeteria to the hallway.
Chapter 3
Quinn
My shoulders slump a little when I step out into the empty hallway. At twenty-four, it’s hard to be the new kid. Even with Alice and her friends inviting me to sit with them, I still felt like there were lots of eyes on me.
I make my way back toward where I think the front lobby is, passing a few rooms that Alice pointed out to me on the way to the dining room, so I know I’m somewhat on the right path. When I reach the door labeled Security, I know I’ve almost made it.
Taking a chance, I knock on the door. It makes a hollow pang sound in answer, telling me that while all of the other doors I’ve encountered are wood, this one is metal.
Within seconds, the door is ripped open and a sour-faced man is looming over me. I take a step back. “Sorry to disturb you, but I was hoping I might get my badge. I’m Quinn Shaw.”
“I know who you are, everyone knows who you are,” the man grumbles at me.
“Okay then, do you have a badge for me, or should I go back to the front desk?” I give him my most polite expression, the one I reserve for my mother and her friends. What I really want to do is ask this guy who pissed in his Wheaties, but I don’t.
“Well, I don’t have it.” The man opens his arms and spreads them in a display.
I tighten my smile even more. “Is Wes—never mind.” I lift my hands in surrender. This guy obviously doesn’t want to deal with me.
I turn to walk away, intending to head back to the lobby where I should have just gone in the first place, but it’s been a little while since I came in, so I’m not sure Wes will still be at the front desk.
I hear the heavy door slam, and I can’t help the little startle I get from the sound. “Scared?” is sneered near my shoulder. My back goes rigid. I’d assumed he went back into the security office, but I was wrong.
I stop in my tracks and turn around to face the man. “Startled, yes,” I admit without any shame. The man crosses his arms over his chest. It makes his biceps flare out larger. He’s not huge, not in the same way Mr. Winters is, but he’s a very fit man, and he’s looking at me as if I’m scum on the bottom of his shoe. So I’m a little intimidated, but I’m fighting really hard not to show it.
“Why did you ask about Westly?” He tilts his head to the side, studying me.
“Why do you want to know?” I cross my arms over my own chest, and stare right back at him.
“Because it’s my job to know,” he counters.
I drop my arms and take a deep breath. I have no idea if this guy is a jerk to everyone, or if I’m just special, but I don’t need to let his asshole-ish-ness rub off on me. “I’m just looking for my badge and schedule. Maybe even some info on the Wi-Fi so I can check my emails. Wes was working the front security desk when I came in. I thought he might be able to help me, that’s all.”
The man’s light eyes narrow a bit as he watches me like he’s waiting for me to add more. I lift my arm and wave it behind me. “Do you mind if I go see if he’s still there?” I ask him slowly.
“He is, but he doesn’t have your badge.”
I roll my lips in and bite the inside of my cheek. “All right, I think I’ll just head up to my room. I appreciate your time.” I start to walk back in the direction I came from, which means I’ll have to pass him, but he doesn’t move an inch out of my way, so I have to go completely around him. His head follows me until he has to turn his body to keep his eyes on me.
“Stay away from Westly,” he breathes after I pass him. I almost think I didn’t hear what I thought I did until I turn
around and see he’s still standing there watching me, his arms crossed over his chest, feet spread wide, even his chin is tipped up as if he’s challenging me.
I don’t respond to him. I don’t even know how I would reply, so I just resume walking to the elevator. I knew being the only human in a school full of supernaturals would be a challenge, but I might not have prepared myself for just how hard it’s going to be. Before the self-pitying thoughts can go any further, I remind myself that this is what supernaturals have to deal with every day, and worse. The world is full of people like my parents, rampant with mistrust from both sides.
I round the alcove where the elevator is, moving on autopilot. My mind is occupied, but there’s some part of me that knew right where to go. I tap the up arrow and the doors retract almost immediately to allow me entrance. As I lean back against the polished metal wall, I see a hand with a few thick rings on a couple of fingers snap forward and grab the door to keep it from closing. Pushing off the wall, I reach for the button to stop the doors, but the pressure on the doors is enough to have them retreating back into the slots.
A man comes into view, his head is lowered, and a few longer pieces of pitch-black hair tease his cheek. With a well-practiced move, as if he does it all the time, he reaches up and pushes his hair back, tangling his fingers into the thick, dark mop. I notice the short, dark scruff on his jaw as he brings his arm back down, and then I catch a glimpse of his full lips.
I avert my gaze so I’m not tempted to stare, and plaster that stupid grin you get when you pass someone on the street—the one that makes you look slightly unhinged and like an idiot at the same time, yeah, that one—on my face.
I drop the awkward expression and extend my hand, although it kind of looks like he’s ignoring the fact that I’m even in the elevator. The doors start to slide closed as I say, “Hi, I’m Quinn.”
I watch as the man’s hand balls into a fist before he releases it and reaches for my open palm. His fingers are cool as they cover mine. “Griffin,” he rasps. His voice is thick, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while.
He holds my hand for just a beat longer than I would consider polite. My heart gives a hard kick in my chest when I peer up into his impossibly light eyes. When he does release my palm, I wring my fingers together and the elevator begins to rise. I’m not sure if the dip in my stomach is from the motion, or the man standing next to me.
I’m slightly embarrassed that I’m having such a visceral response to how attractive he is. I look away when Griffin’s head tilts to the side and his pupils expand. I need to remember I’m going to be spending a lot more time with people who can sense more than your average human.
I feel another dip in my stomach with the arrival of the elevator on the third floor. I take a rushed step toward the doors before they can even slide open. “It was nice meeting you, Griffin,” I mumble, and shoot through the gap, turning to the side to get out faster.
I turn to the right when I should have turned left. “Damn,” I mutter as I right myself, only to slam right into a hard chest. Griffin’s hands come up to brace my upper arms and to keep me from bouncing off him.
“Got turned around,” I say, while I feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I step back and around Griffin, never once looking at his face as I make my way down to my room.
The key trembles slightly as I slide it into the lock. As soon as I’m inside, I let my back fall to the door and hang my head. “Real cool, Quinn.” I rub my hand over my face, hoping some of the embarrassment I felt will be wiped away with it. I release a small groan and push off the door, my keys still clutched in my other hand.
Deciding there’s nothing I can do but put the moment behind me, I take another look around. I was in a hurry earlier when Alice brought me up so I could drop off my luggage. The small kitchenette catches my eye, and I notice something shiny twinkling on the counter. I don’t remember seeing that when I glanced around earlier. Forgetting all about the awkward encounter, I squint as I draw nearer. I can hear the sound of little splats as they drip to the floor. I round the counter a get a good look at a small pig lying near the sink with a large knife sticking out of its small body.
The splat of liquid jars me as another drop of watery pink blood spills to the floor. I’m so shocked it takes me longer than it should to wrap my mind around what I’m seeing. Balling up my fists, I take a step closer and notice how colorless the pig is, how it has a long, clean slice right up the middle.
I reach forward and pause right before my hand makes contact. This pig is long dead, it was prepared to be cooked, but it doesn’t make it any easier knowing that. At least someone didn’t kill it with the sole purpose of putting it here. Why would someone do this? I need to get rid of it.
I’m torn. I could call down to the kitchen, but I don’t want to make a big deal about this. As threatening as it seems to me, it might just be a welcome gesture from a shifter—the knife makes it feel somehow more threatening though.
I need to just throw it away. I look over at the rather small trash can, then back at the pig. It’s not big, but it would fill up the can, and what do I do with it after?
“Fuck!”
A heavy knock sounds on the door just as I mutter the curse. I spin and head back to the entrance. “Who is it?” I cringe at the airy tone in my voice. The pig has shaken me up, no matter how much I want to pretend it hasn’t.
“Griffin. Are you okay?” His voice starts out strong, but finishes softly, as if he can’t believe he’s even asking the question.
I blow out a breath and try to hide the shaking of my hand as I turn the knob to open the door. To speak to him through it would be ridiculously rude. “Yes, I’m fine. You?” I ask, wondering what he heard that would have him questioning if I was all right.
His light eyes scan over my face slowly. He’s examining me, and it makes me want to fidget, but I lock down my muscles so I don’t squirm. “I can smell blood.” His dark brows dip in the middle as he drags in a breath. Griffin places his hand on the door over my head and pushes it open.
He steps toward me, and I take an instinctual step back so he doesn’t collide with me, and mutter an affronted, “Hey,” but he ignores me, heading right into the kitchen. Supernaturals don’t have any obvious indicators telling you what species they are, but the blood comment makes me think vampire. “You shouldn’t just push your way into someone’s room.” I cross my arms over my chest and glare at his back.
Griffin’s strides stop, and he slowly turns around to look at me. His head tilts to the side again as he studies me. “Having an invitation usually isn’t an issue for me.” He faces forward again, taking the final two steps that have him completely in the kitchen. He looks down at the pig splayed across my tiny countertop and his lips curl in a sneer of disgust. I don’t even care to examine his comment right now.
I’m aggravated that he barged into my room, questioning how much privacy I’m really going to have in a building with a bunch of supernatural beings that cannot only smell blood—from who knows how far away—but can probably hear much better than I can even comprehend. However, another part of me is a little relieved that I might have help finding a resolution to get rid of it—and figuring out what a dead pig on my counter means.
“I’m going to assume you didn’t plan on roasting an entire pig yourself.” Griffin slowly lifts his gaze so he’s staring at me from under his brow while his face is still turned down to the counter. His light eyes and dark hair make an arresting picture. I just bet he doesn’t have any problem getting an invitation into any place he wants to enter.
“No, roasted baby pig wasn’t part of my plans for this evening.”
“This is how you found it?” Griffin reaches for the knife handle protruding out from the carcass without taking his eyes off me.
“Yes, just a few moments ago.” I pull my hand out from under my arm and gesture to the counter. I feel heat invade my cheeks before I inquire, “I was wondering if it was a welcome gift.” I shrug on
e shoulder slightly, feeling silly for asking, but I want to know more than I’m concerned about how I look. Ultimately, I’m the intruder here. My intentions are pure, but I know supernaturals have had to deal with human prejudice for most of their lives. I’m hoping to ease the tensions between the species, not make shit worse because of a misunderstanding.
Griffin lowers his eyes. “No.” He lifts his arm and the knife pulls free with a slight sucking sound. I ignore it. “A tasteless prank, probably left by a student.” He doesn’t meet my gaze as he says it, and I have a feeling he’s not being honest.
I’ve been studying supernaturals since I was young, but who knows how much of what I’ve been learning is even true. I know I wouldn’t want to divulge my secrets to a bunch of prejudiced assholes who may use them against me.
“I’ll take care of this.” Griffin places the soiled knife into the sink, and it barely makes a sound as it connects with the basin.
“Thank you, I appreciate that. Do you know how they would have gotten in here? I mean, I know I locked my door.” I look behind me to the door in question, wondering now if maybe I didn’t.
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Griffin answers, avoiding my question. He bends down, and I hear the lower cupboard door open and the crinkle of a trash bag being unraveled.
With quick movements, he has the pig scooped up into the bag. He looks down at the watery pink mess still lingering on the countertop and his lips tighten. I watch as his chest expands slowly. He gives a barely discernable shake of his head and finds my gaze again. “I’ll call down and have this cleaned up,” he mutters flatly.
I step forward. “No, it’s fine. I got it,” I tell him, dismissing the notion immediately.
Griffin glances back down like he might argue. I step around the counter, invading his space, and he backs up after a few seconds so I can check under the sink. There are a few household cleaners lined up. I reach for the one that contains bleach and hold it up in my hand with a forced grin. “See? No problem.”
Havenfall Harbor: Book One Page 3
