Page 6 of Forbidden Devotion
A passing glance was enough to recognize who dominated this group. Sinclair focused on him, a brunet with shaggy hair, in black jeans and an old flannel shirt. The others were waiting for this wolf to respond, but he only glared.
Extending his hand, Sinclair spoke first. “Hello. I’m part of the university’s exchange program. Sinclair Davis. Pleased to meet you.”
The staring continued, his offered handshake was rejected, and the tension was palpable. Sinclair’s chest tightened. He withdrew his hand and waited for a reply, keeping his breath calm and steady.
The shaggy-haired wolf rose to his feet, puffed his chest, and glowered down his nose. “Campus housing told us one ofyouwas coming.”
Not a friendly greeting, but it could have been worse. They could’ve all shifted to monsters and torn him to shreds.
“Indeed. It’s an honor to participate in Borson’s exchange program.”
“Why did you come?” asked the wolf who’d snarled.
“Your school has the only PhD program for Historical Supernatural Studies. Also, your library is regarded as the nation’s best. I’m eager to explore its shelves.” How vulnerable should he be with these shifters? They were going to be housemates. He’d need to fit in somehow. “And I don’t know any werewolves. How else was I supposed to meet one?”
Snarly squared his shoulders and scowled. “No one here wants to meet you. You leave us alone. We’ll leave you alone. That’s the best we can do.”
Sinclair blinked. His heart sank.
“I’m Nathan,” the shaggy-haired wolf said. “I’ll show you to your room.”
Becket had already unloaded his luggage and stood next to it, watching their interaction through half-lidded eyes, lips pressed into a tight white line. His face said these wolves had been judged and found wanting.
Sinclair joined him, grabbed a pair of suitcases, and the two of them followed Nathan inside.
No one offered to help.
The main doors led to a large open hall—a common area with a scattering of ragged furniture throughout. Sinclair could imagine himself here, curled up with a good book. Through a set of double doors off to the right was a large room with a deep fireplace. He peeked inside and saw an enormous flat-screen television with an impressive array of gaming consoles beneath.
They passed a study, and Sinclair’s nostrils flared. That scent. What was it?
A sweet, earthy aroma full of spice and the smell of soil after a spring rain. He sucked in a delighted breath and glimpsed into the room.
It was the opposite of his father’s office, with not one sleek piece of modern furniture to be found. Instead, a pair of dusty lamps stood next to an old wooden desk covered in papers. No tablet, no set of twin monitors, no speakers, no phones. Just spiral-bound notebooks, white plastic folders, and a collection of Bic pens with no lids.
Their guide was getting ahead of them, so Sinclair tore himself from the messy office with its delicious smell and hurried along.
Nathan showed them up a wide wooden staircase with a beautifully carved banister dulled from years of use. This had to have led to balcony seating when the building was a church, but the upper floor had since been converted to a long hall with a series of decorated doors.
Nathan halted in front of one of them. “Yours. Bathroom’s down the hall. Kitchen’s on the main floor.” With that, he turned on his heel and left.
Becket and Sinclair stared at each other. Sinclair shrugged.
Whatever. There was plenty of time to make friends, and there must be other wolves here who weren’t so inhospitable.
He turned the worn brass knob, peered inside, and his jaw dropped.
The room was tiny, the size of a closet if he was feeling generous. No, an actual closet, or at least it must have been before they’d added a bunk-style bed with a desk underneath. There wasn’t room for a chair, so it had been crammed in the corner, with the door open. No windows either.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Sinclair mumbled.
Becket gave a low whistle. “This won’t do. We’ll have to find you an appropriate place to live. Surely, an actual room has been reserved for you on campus somewhere.”
“Maybe it’s a joke.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew they weren’t true.
“I have a feeling it’s not.” Becket wiped a layer of dust off the desk with one finger, leaving behind a trail.
“It’s fine. I won’t be in here much anyway.”
