Page 62 of Blood on the Ice

My brows furrow as I listen to him drone on. All I’m hearing is that this bastard is going to re-iterate the same shit we learned before. That’s a monumental waste of money and time—and this class is required.Just fucking peachy. Not skipping or falling asleep will be a challenge.

“Do you have a question, Mr. Wolfenberg?”

I blink, looking up to find the sloth glaring at me—I think, it’s hard to tell if he’s glaring or squinting. “Uh, no, Professor. All good up here.”

His expression is sour and I sink further into my chair. I don’t know if I made a face or if he’s more perceptive than he looks. Neither is a good prospect, so I need to get my shit together. The last thing I need right now is to draw negative attention to my academic performance. Coach might not have chewed me over the practices, but eligibility is no joke. Not to mention the issues it would cause Morgana if I end up on a list of athletes not pulling their weight.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, keeping it under sight line to make sure I don’t cause another disturbance.

Morgana: Everything okay so far?

Papa Bear: Right as rain. Modern History is a joke. Check on the prof.

Morgana: You think he’s one of Magnus’?

Papa Bear: If he’s not, he’s stayed under the radar in reviews. This idiot is teaching shit we learned in high school and it doesn’t feel like a review. It feels like the lesson plan for the year.

Morgana: At a college level?

Papa Bear: Yep. In a required course, no less. Just sayin’.

Morgana: What is that ridiculous name you have in my phone, Lucas?

Papa Bear: Gotta go, babe. Check on this guy. See you for dinner.

She doesn’t respond, but I feel her amusement in our bond. The more distance I get from that toxic shit, the more I can senseher inside me. I haven’t mentioned it because she might flip her wig, and we have plenty of other shit to deal with. But I wonder if she’s noticed it, too, or if she’s so focused on the next task that she’s missed it.

Maybe it’s why she texted me out of the blue?

Good thought; I’ll ask Professor Shadwell the next time we see her. She’ll definitely have some tips about what we should expect—at least from the bear perspective. Morgana might only get the gargoyle from her dad and fuck if I know who knows a damn gorgon. Maybe Iggy or the Prince can handle that research.

It occurs to me that for the first time in my life, I don’t give a rat’s ass about the other men orbiting my girl. I mean, I wasn’t ever serious about anyone in school, but I still gave a shit if other assholes got in their space. My bear’s always been possessive, but he’s okay with the men who crashed into our world in the past few days.

Okay, that’s only sort of true. He hates that dragon motherfucker, and I agree with him.

Honestly, that’s because I feel he’s going to hurt Morgana before he wises up. I don’t think Iggy or Slade would like that, and the Prince is a hard read. He’s friends with the dick, but he seems to have an old world gallantry about him. Maybe he’d slap the idiot, too. Staring at my notebook, I doodle a few thoughts, smirking to myself as I consider what kind of fun we could get up with so many supes in one room.

“Mr. Wolfenberg!”

My eyes fly up, looking to the angry voice at the front of the class guiltily. That’s when I see it’s not the lazy sloth professor, but that dingy detective—Kowalski—standing with his hands inhis pockets, looking very smug. I don’t take my eyes off him as I send one word in a text to Morgana: nine-one-one. Carefully slipping my phone back in my pocket, I give the asshole a bright grin. “Detective Kaiser Roll! How nice to see you! I’m a little busy getting an education at the moment, but if you’d like to set something up with my lawyer…”

“Not this time, rich boy.” He looks over his shoulder and two officers in uniform come in, heading up the stairs of the lecture hall like freaking secret police. “This time you’re coming to my house when I say so.”

I’d love to kick these dudes’ asses, but this is not the time.

Standing, I look around as if I don’t have a care in the world. “Well, if you insist…”

“I do.” Kowalski smiles and I shudder as the crumbs clinging to his bushy beard practically tremble with his glee. “Because you, Lucas Wolfenberg, are under arrest.”

Shit. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition—not even The Shark, it seems.

fury

The door bursts open on my meeting with the coaches of the swim team, and I have to keep myself from reacting when Channing bustles in like she’s on a mission. She doesn’t acknowledge the two angry looking shifters; no, my assistant heads straight for me. When sheapproaches, I lean down a bit for her to whisper in my ear and this time, I can’t keep the emotions off of my face.

How goddamndarethat asshole set foot on my campus without speaking to me? I don’t care if he works for the fuckingKremlin.

Straightening, I look at the dolphin and shark in front of me with an irritable expression. “Gentleman, lady… we will have to reschedule. I have urgent business to attend to that cannot be put off.”

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