Page 7 of Blood on the Ice

The shocked look on her face makes me grin against her skin and she tries to yank it away. “Lucas, this is highly inappropriate! Let go of me.”

Shrugging, I nip the base of her thumb lightly. “I live for inappropriate, Morgana. How do you think I ended up in the penalty box so many times tonight? I play for keeps.”

“Dean, I have the—oh!” The PR woman comes stomping in and gasps when she sees us.

Goddamn it, of course, that frazzled, pint-sized elemental would walk in rightnow.

Morgana pulls away, giving me a sharp look of displeasure. “No worries, Channing. I was just explaining the college honor code and policies on sexual harassment when you came in. Clearly, he’s got a lot to learn about the phrase ‘no means no’ before he’s suitable for public appearances.”

Giving her an amused look, I step back and cross my arms over my chest. “I’ve never had to resort to questionable consent to get my bed warmed. I’ll be fine without the lecture, Dean.”

Her expression says she doesn’t like that, and it makes my inner bear preen a bit. I’m not sure if she’s going to need to be chased to give in, but the thought of it gets my motor running. I’m all in for a little primal hunting, especially if the media is right about her being part winged shifter. The chase is sweeter when they can match my pace.

“Bring the authorities in now, Channing. Lucas knows what he’s supposed to do and not do. He’llbehave.”

Oooh—or maybe I won’t, just to see what she’ll do.

As if she can sense my defiance, the dean turns her head and gives me another stern look. I simply smile and walk over to a bank of lockers away from the mess on the floor, leaning casually as we wait. When the bushy faced detective comes in with agroup of squirrely looking science geeks that must be crime scene techs, I watch quietly. He eyes me up and down, frowning under the thick, bushy mustache that is woefully out of style or means he’s a walrus shifter.

“Are you the one who ‘discovered’ the body?” he barks as he approaches.

Backing up to keep the space between us, I nod. “I am. Coach sent me to the locker room to chill when I got my last penalty of the game.”

Morgana glares at me again—she expected me to say something to the tune of ‘lawyer’ and nothing else.

“A hothead, huh?” he murmurs as he scribbles something in a notepad. “Good to know. You came back alone and found this young man on the floor, but did not provide help?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“There are no signs he was turned to clear an airway or anyone tried to resuscitate him. The blood pool isn’t smeared!” The detective’s face reddens a little as he points to the victim.

“I’m not sure giving someone CPR would be prudent when their throat is hanging open like a sliced ham,” I reply coolly.

“Detective, I’m sure Lucas called for help as soon as he saw the situation. We can’t expect him to react like a medical or law enforcement professional, can we?” Morgana steps closer to the sweaty man, looking every bit as regal as she would wearing one of the trademark suits everyone talks about.

He whirls on her, getting in her face as he snarls, “I’ll thank you not to meddle in police affairs, Dean LeCiel. We’re all aware of your shortcomings surrounding murder.”

Nope. That’s not gonna work for me.

With the speed of my bear, I slide in between them, looking the pastrami-eating fool right in the eyes. “It’s downright rude to speak to a lady that way, especially when you’re spitting your deli dinner in her face. Apologize to the Dean and show her the respect her office commands—I won’t ask again.”

“Lucas, it’s fine. I?—”

“No, it’s not. This bearded clown is not only addressing the Council appointed Dean of State U, but a full-blooded Wolfberg as if we’re the crumbs on his jacket. It will horrify my grandmother to hear of this.” I look at him with a sly smirk as I continue, “Perhaps you’ve heard of Nana? Duchess Gretchen Madeline von Wolfenberg of the German Council is not someone I suggest trifling with.”

The detective turns white as a sheet and he backs away quickly, barking orders at the crime techs before he looks back at me. “The Dean will escort you to the precinct for further questioning. Do not be late.”

Morgana waits until he leaves to hiss at me, “Are fucking kidding me? Burying the lede that you’re related to the matriarch of the European bear clans is dirty, you little shit.”

“Morgana, if you find that dirty, I have a lot of work ahead of me.”

The rideto the station was quiet, though I could tell Morgana wanted to ask questions. Her gaze roamed over the interior of my 2014 Morgan Plus 8 Speedster curiously, but she didn’t comment. It was a gift from my Nana and I love it more than most people love their significant others. I’m only thirteen years older than this car, but the 1940s feel of it makes me happy. I’ve got a serious adoration of the Rat Pack, Vegas during the mob times, and hockey—not always in that order. I love riding around in a car that evokes the feel of jazz clubs and smoky bars rather than some tiny dick show-off Italian bullshit.

But I don’t tell her that; I let her wonder.

When we arrive downtown, I insist on pulling into a lot to escort her inside rather than drop her off, which she grouses about half-heartedly. I feel she’s spent a lot of time taking care of herself because of the unorthodox engagement she and Magnus had, and now she can’t relax enough to allow anyone to help. I don’t know if I’m game to work on changing that or looking for a quick, albeit hot AF, hop between the sheets. It’s too soon to say if I’m considering my ban on relationships that last past breakfast or if I’m just juicing on the instalust.

“Lucas,pleasedo not run your mouth until your lawyer gets here. I’m sure you’re used to the spotlight and I don’t doubt you can handle yourself, but I don’t aspire to be the reason your grandmother goes on a rampage. I have enough problems withthe Society and the Councils; don’t add to it because you’re being ornery,” Morgana says as she takes my hand to get out.

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