Page 11 of Blood on the Ice

Channing: Yes, I believe so. Let me move a few things around and I can meet you there, Dean. May I ask what this is regarding?

Morgana LeCiel: No. I’d prefer to speak in person. I’ll see you there.

Smiling to myself, I realize the nervous elemental is probably convinced I’m firing her for something she did the other night. That wasn’t my intent in refusing to give her info over text, though. I have no idea what kind of snooping shit the board had the IT department install on the university phones and though I’m using one of my own with plenty of protection against intrusion; she is not. I don’t want anyone getting a whiff of what I’m planning before I set the wheels in motion. Keeping my council is the only way I’m going to achieve the lofty ass goals they set for me without interference.

I tuck my phone in the inside pocket of my suit coat and jump onto the stone railing. With a leap, I catch a slight current and glide upward into a slipstream. The campus looks idyllic from above; I’ll give them that. The well-kept grounds, fully restored buildings, and shiny new facilities at the edges make it seem like the perfect place to send your young shifter or magic user, especially if you want them to learn to fit into an elite society mold. Unfortunately, I’m assigned to uncover the source of evil at State U, buried deep within. I’m going to peel all the layers of gentility, politeness, and polish away so I can figure out what Magnus buried under the surface.

That’s going to piss more than a few people off and might even put a bigger target on my back than killing the sleazy lizard did.

When the Beauregard Fine Arts building comes into view, I angle my wings back to descend to the ground at a gentle speed. My feet touch the ground and I steady myself as my wings disappear into my back. I’d prefer not to answer questions about my supe sides if possible and hiding the wings is a good way to discourage the conversation.

Walking to the cafe, I pull open the door and notice that Slade is here again. I assume he’s doing this as part of a work study, but I suddenly feel compelled to check into that when I get back to my office. I’m not sure why, but I want to know more about the pretty barista. He turns and gives me a brilliant smile, the expression gentle and sweet in opposition to the naughty arrogance of Lucas.

Why am I thinking about him? I need to get laid, that’s why.

By the time Magnus’ treachery was revealed, an ocean had separated us for months. His visits grew sparse once I acceptedhis proposal—the excuse was always working, and I was stupid enough to believe him. Of course, I had lots of nightstand options for gratification, but I missed the warmth of a live person. Those weren’t available while I awaited trial after I hunted him down and I didn’t have the privacy to help myself.

That can easily change now that I’m imprisoned in Dixieland. I’ll dig out all of my toys. Maybe it will help me keep my mind off lithe, lovely music students and muscled hockey gods with wicked smirks. I bite my lower lip, grinning as I promise myself mentally to indulge in self-care tonight. I deserve it, after all.

“What’s making you look so giddy?”

Slade’s voice brings me out of my mental smutfest and I feel the color rise in my cheeks as I find my tongue. “Coffee always makes me look happy. I’m a caffeine junkie.”

His brow arches disbelievingly, but he humors me. “Luckily, I’ve got plenty of that. Snack or sandwich, your choice?”

I’m pondering that when the bell on the door chimes and Channing comes bustling in. She looks much less harried today, and I’m pleased to see she brought a laptop with her. I enjoy knowing she came prepared to either be fired or put to work. It makes me think I’ve made an excellent decision to contact her to meet.

“Dean LeCiel, I’m sorry I ran a little behind,” she says as she joins me at the counter. “Hello, Slade. How are you?”

The adorable grad student nods and pours a mug of black coffee, I assume is for her. “Afternoon, Channing. I just asked Morgana if she’d like pastry or food this afternoon. Do you want your usual?”

They both look at me expectantly, and I fold. “Okay, fine. I should eat. Load me up with a club sandwich and one of those big cookies, Slade.”

Channing beams. “Fruit salad and a chicken salad croissant for me.”

Once we have our coffee, we head to the table by the window while Slade works on our order. I settle in with my back to the wall—I’m not fond of having people behind me since the Council hunters used that to corner me. Channing sips her brew with a happy sigh before she sits her laptop on the table.

“May I ask why now, ma’am?”

I take pity on her, though my instinct is to wait until the food is done. “Yes. First, I wanted to thank you for your efficient and thorough work at the rink. You made it easy for me to accompany one of our students and deal with a potential PR mess without worrying that another one would be waiting when I returned.”

Her face turns bright red, and she fiddles with her chignon, not meeting my eyes. “Oh! Well, I appreciate that. I tried to make sure I covered all the bases so you wouldn’t have more work.”

“Considering your grace under pressure, I have a proposal for you,” I continue as Slade walks up and sits the plates down. “I’d like to transfer you.”

Channing blinks, looking worried. “T-Transfer? I mean, I just got promoted and I don’t think the department head is leaving, so…”

“Not within your department.” I shake my head, grinning. “I would like to offer you the position of Executive Assistant to the Dean.”

Her jaw drops, and she blinks at me wordlessly.

“Before you tell me that doesn’t sound like a promotion, I assure you, it is. Since my ex’s departure, the admin pool in the office is thin. You would report directly to me, oversee the few staff we have currently, and if we need to allocate more resources, you would hire them.”

Channing still doesn’t speak.

However, our bean slinging friend looks at her with excitement. “I bet it comes with a raise, Chan! And you hate the people in PR.”

“Thanks for ruining my bargaining leverage, Slade,” she snaps. Her features soften immediately and she gives him a fond expression. “Slade and I were here as undergrads. I went to work, and he stayed in school forever like an over-educated Peter Pan.”

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