Page 55 of Citius

“Oh, good call.” Alijah picked up his Belcrest Ballet branded pen and added more names to the guest list. It took up most of the page in a notebook already overladen with party logistics.

Aunt Tabitha was first on the list, as was only right.

“Your lighting crew and the artistic director. My trio of media magicians. Who am I forgetting?”

“Cal,” I said. The one outsider whose presence I welcomed.

“Yes—Cal. And Morgan,” Alijah said with a bit too much enthusiasm. “Can’t forget about Morgan.”

His tone was familiar, fond even.

I dissected a piece of roast into even shreds. “Do you mean Morgan Van Daal?”

“Of course. She’s his favorite colleague, a total work perk,” Joaquin said with an uncouth snicker, reaching to caress Alijah’s cheek.

“Be nice.” Alijah dodged Joaquin’s hand, never looking away from his list as he added a spray of stars next to Morgan’s name.

Wyatt dropped his fork, eyes frosted over in shock. “You—youallknow Morgan?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen her at the training center a few times,” Joaquin said. “And her younger sister dances for Belcrest.”

“Oh, we should invite Piper, too!” Alijah added her name next to Morgan’s, then underlined both with a flourish before turning to me, brimming with curiosity. “When did you meet Morgan? She said you’d never met.”

“Cal introduced us at dinner Friday night.”

Three pairs of eyes locked onto me while I savored my last bite of glazed carrots—one surprised, one stunned, one scheming. What a peculiar reaction.

“She knows Cal, too?” Wyatt asked, the questioning lilt to my friend’s name all but strangling him.

“Yes.” I failed to see why this singular woman was so important. “He claims she’s been an excellent addition to the PheroPass project. Second only to his own contributions as far as university personnel are concerned.”

“Yes, she’squiteimpressive, that Dr. Van Daal.” Joaquin smirked into his glass, devilish gaze cheating toward his mate.

An ill-omen if ever there was one.

***

Joaquin’s dark form plopped down on the couch in my office, which I’d established in one of the extra rooms in the omega suite. Or rather, the former omega suite. It was my territory now, much to Joaquin’s chagrin. Given my position as head alpha, he still felt the other, more traditional space was better for me.

But the suite offered a luxury I’d never been able to afford before—and one I’d scrimped for years to have—a dedicated home workspace with absolute privacy and protection for sensitive projects. Thesoundproofing alone convinced me to put in an offer on the loft.

Little did Joaquin know I was planning to turn the nest, with its independent temperature control and added security measures, into a server room.

I’d selected the larger of the two bonus spaces for my office, separated from the foyer by a glass wall. My desk faced the window, and like the rest of the room’s furniture—couch, storage credenza, end tables—I salvaged it from the Redwing campus. The minimalist white MDF furniture was functional and unobtrusive, well-suited for my purposes.

The window looked over the bronze-clad passageway. A clock tower on the opposite building obscured most of the city view, making it an interesting vantage point without being an outright distraction.

“The rules about knocking still apply,” I said without looking away from my computer monitor, where I was replying to an email from my assistant.

“I know.” Joaquin swung his sock-clad feet up to rest on the blocky arm of the institutional gray sofa. “Thanks for humoring Alijah about the housewarming.”

I glanced at his feet, not bothering to hide my disapproval, then continued typing. “Establishing a pack is a notable achievement.”

“Especially when you’ve never had one.”

The statement applied to more than just Alijah.

Wyatt and I had grown up without a pack or a functioning mother. Our biological fathers weren’t in the picture, either. It wasn’t until I met Joaquin that I understood the enormity of what we’d missed out on.

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