Rhett Thatcher stood in the doorway, and behind him loomed one of the academy’s sentinels.
"Let him go, Marcus. Find someone else to play with."
Marcus sighed, rolling his eyes. "I thought you were dead. Seems you survived this time. It’s always one trip to the hospital or the other. What’s going on with you? Are you sick?" Marcus mocked.
"Go and pick on someone your size," Rhett replied, ignoring his lame bait. "If I see you near Eamon again, I won’t be so gentle."
Then Rhett turned to the man behind him and nodded toward Marcus. The man moved, and in seconds, he lifted Marcus, carrying him out of the stairwell.
"This isn’t over!" Marcus called back. "He belongs to me."
Once they were gone, Rhett turned to Eamon, his tone softening.
"I heard what happened," he said softly. "Are you alright?"
"Oh, Rhett!" Eamon broke into fresh sobs and, without hesitation, threw himself into Rhett’s arms. "Thank the goddess, you’re here. I was so scared."
"Hey," Rhett’s arms instantly circled him, pulling him close. "I’m here now. You’re safe."
I took a step back, hiding in the shadows. The bag in my hand crinkled, and my throat felt tight. I didn’t go to them. I just turned and walked away.
Part of me was relieved that Eamon had found protection and comfort. But another part—the part that kept replaying, Rhett holding the crying boy, one hand stroking his hair while murmuring quiet reassurances—felt something that might have been jealousy.
At that moment, I realized something terrifying.
I wish it was me holding Eamon and not Rhett.
I also made a mental note to include that Rhett Thatcher had access to security resources and protection that went beyond normal student privileges, which could be either useful intelligence or a potential threat to my operations.
The first thing I did when I rushed back to my room was fling the items I’d bought for Eamon onto the floor in frustration.
The box of cookies, the herbal tea packets, and the chocolate rolled all over the floor.
"Gods, Kael," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "You’re a fool. A big, bumbling idiot."
I began pacing the room, my heart pounding like I’d just run a mile.
"You ran through the whole damn school like some lovesick stray to deliver snacks and—what? Comfort? Pity? Romance? What was that supposed to be, huh?"
I stopped in front of the mirror and glared at myself. "You don’t even know Eamon. You don’t trust him. So why does it feel like someone twists your insides every time he’s in distress?"
I turned away with a huff. "It’s that kiss. It’s the damn kiss. Or maybe—maybe it’s the drug. Yes, it has to be the Lupine Euphoria."
I nodded to myself, though the movement felt weak.
"That has to be it," I insisted. "I must have inhaled some of it back at the pool that night. That’s why I can’t stop thinking about him. About his voice. Those damn eyes and his lips..."
But even as I said it, I knew the truth.
Lupine Euphoria didn’t work that way.
Inhaling trace amounts of it wouldn’t leave someone horny and pinning over the same person for days. The effect typically wore off within hours, not days. It didn’t make you pace your room at midnight, clutching a goddamn snack back anfantasizingng about someone who might not even be who they claimed to be.
You’re compromised, Kael, my wolf, Black told me, his voice filtering into my head. A newly admitted student with eyes like spring and a smile has you wrapped around his finger. You’re supposed to be gathering intelligence on what goes in and out of Ravenshore, not fantasising about Eamon.
"I know," I sighed, clutching the edge of my desk. "This is me. This is all me."
Before Black could respond, someone knocked on my door.
I straightened instantly, my pulse skipping a beat.
I rushed to the door, adjusting my shirt and rubbing my face to look more composed. Even stopped to shove the scattered items under my bed with my foot before moving to answer it.
When I opened the door and saw Rhett, I groaned in disappointment.
Before I could ask him what he wanted, he pushed past me and entered the room.
"What the hell, Rhett?" I slammed the door and turned to face him. "What do you want?"
Rhett had stopped to pick up one of the tea packets that had escaped my hasty cleanup. He examined it thoughtfully before turning to face me.
"You would have just given him this," Rhett said quietly, holding up the packet. "Why did you hesitate?"
I arched a brow. "What the hell are you talking about?"
He sighed and dropped onto the bean bag chair in the corner of my room, making himself comfortable as he met my gaze.
"I saw you on the stairs," he started quietly. "I know you’re confused about these emotions you’re experiencing. What you’re feeling is—"
"Hold on," I interrupted him with a scoff. "What do you think you’re doing? Playing therapist? Don’t start your poetic crap with me. I am not interested."
He smiled slightly, then rose to his feet as he came towards me. "You’re angry with me, aren’t you? You’re angry that I was the one hugging him and not you."
"What are you going on about, Rhett? Maybe that camp incident damaged your brain cells. You’re talking nonsense."
"There’s nothing wrong with liking a boy," Rhett continued quietly, his face serious, unlike what I was used to. "Eamon is very likeable. I like him too, and I know you like him as well. See the way Marcus is chasing him around. That should tell you something."
"I don’t like, Eamon," I said vehemently, "I don’t know what delusions are in your head, but..."
"He needs our help more than he needs our competition." Rhett stopped me mid-sentence, giving me the look you give someone when they’re overexplaining a situation.
I exhaled deeply and turned away, bending to gather the scattered comfort items on the floor I’d missed and using the activity to avoid meeting Rhett’s knowing gaze.
"Whatever chivalrous rescue mission you’re planning," I said stiffly, "count me out."