Page 320 of Sigils & Spells

Shut up, I told myself.

“The library will close in five minutes.”

Miss Cleve’s announcement had me glancing at my phone. There, in bright green text the time stared at me. It was 9:55.

Shit.

I’d only meant to waste an hour of the sentinel’s time, but now I felt guilty.

Standing up, I grabbed the books and placed them on the return cart. They would find their way back to the shelves with no help from anyone else. It was magic, of course, and a wonderful spell at that, ensuring no books were ever put back wrongly.

“Um, I’m sorry I kept you so long,” I mumbled my half-assed apology.

“No apology necessary.”

“I was wondering,” I said, daring to ask about something he’d said a while back that had been bugging me ever since. “What did you mean, I smell strange?”

“Ah, I figured you would ask about that,” Brandon mumbled, making a clicking sound behind his teeth.

It reminded me of the sound an old flintlock pistol made before igniting. My father had a collection of ancient weapons, and used to show me them before he’d become so obsessed with finding my mother’s killers.

“It’s not a strong today, but it still lingers.”

“What does?”

Brandon looked uncomfortable, but I was really fucking confused. He was a hybrid, and though he seemed to have magic apart from his beast, he was still a shifter. His sense of smell was highly refined.

“Ah, forget it,” he grumbled, but I was not letting this go.

We entered the hallway to the west wing where the dorms, and more importantly, my room, were located. It was empty, thank fuck, because I didn’t want an audience for this little question-answer session.

“No. I won’t forget it. Tell me.”

“You just smelled different. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Different?” I asked, not nearly satisfied with his answer. “Different from what?”

Brandon’s hooded stare bore into me, but I was not backing down. If the sentinel knew something about me from my scent, I wanted to know what it was. Maybe he could give me some insight into what was happening when I had my magical outbursts.

I did not know his intentions, but when I felt the first rumble emanate from his chest, I knew I was fucked. Brandon turned his back on me, and I saw him suck in a deep breath. His dragon was riding him hard, and I was shocked into stillness. Raw power seemed to seep from his pores, and my magic was pulsing beneath my skin.

“Brandon?” I asked, concern filling me as I placed a hand on his hard shoulder.

“Your scent calls to me, Tana McKenna. Always has since you first passed the gates of Westwood three years ago.”

“You’ve been here since then?”

“I’ve been here longer than that. My Clan sent me here after our seer foretold my fate was tied in with Westwood. I said my vows, got my ink the next day,” he growled.

He lifted his hand to reveal the tattoo he shared with the other shifter sentinels, the one he would have received after pledging his loyalty to the academy. I frowned as I studied the swirling ink. What was once a W seemed to be in the process of changing.

Like Magnus’.

The water witch’s mate had undergone something like that after he’d claimed her with his bite. Shifters had their own set of beliefs and legends, fated mates being one of the most well known. The Watchman had called Magnus back to his tower to undergo questioning, and later, it was ruled a matter beyond the laws of the academy.

Magnus and Rio were two souls united by something stronger than either witch or shifter alone. As were Maia and Enok. Those two couples had the Fates, and the very universe on their sides. I frowned and stepped closer to him, careful not to touch his skin, though my fingers itched to do just that.

“I could pick up your fragrance out from thousands, tens of thousands even. You smell different to me the past few weeks, Tana. Your magic is crying out, can’t you feel it? Why must you stifle it so?”

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