Page 60 of Dead Wolf Walking (Bad Moon Academy 1)
Right. Supernatural healing probably takes care of human viruses.
The woman’s hair is a mousy brown and stringy, like she’s on her fifth day of dry shampoo, except I’m pretty sure she has no clue what dry shampoo is. Her lips are a sickly pale pink. Cracked and dried out from lack of water or cold air. Maybe both.
Except it’s summer.
She opens her mouth and a cockroach scuttles out.
“What the fuck?” I slam my back against the wall as though that will keep the nasty critter away from me.
Another one slips out of her mouth and crawls down her neck.
My skin ripples with gooseflesh and I gag.
I hate bugs.
Shift.
Ignoring Joan, I slowly make my way toward the door, keeping my back pressed against the wall and far away from the woman who obviously needs a hell of a lot more than a cup of coffee.
Her head inches to the side, following me as I progress toward the exit. The cockroaches circle around her waist and shoulders. She stays completely still other than turning her head at an almost unnatural angle to watch me as I slip out of the bathroom.
I yank the door closed behind me and hurry across the gym floor. Shudders continue to rack my body until a familiar face pops up in front of me out of nowhere. I scream and throw a fist, not giving a shit if I hit Draco because you don’t sneak up on a woman this early in the morning.
He catches my hand with his palm. “My, my, someone’s ready for their training.”
I scowl at him and rip my hand back, straightening my shoulders and gathering my dignity from where it shattered to bits on the floor. “Good morning,” I say, sounding like a complete uppity asshole, but I’m still in shock over what happened in the bathroom.
Obviously, she was one of the angry spirits, the kind that likes to torture the inhabitants of a dwelling so they can feel as miserable as she does. I don’t think I’ll be using the locker rooms down here ever again.
I’ll have to plan my mornings better.
“Yes, indeed,” Draco says, flitting his gaze down my body.
I’m wearing the black capri leggings and a form fitting burgundy tank top. There’s no hiding from his scrutiny. Using his momentary distraction, I take in his black fatigues and tank top which reveals a lot of muscle. Draco is shredded, not bulky. Each divot and slope of his toned body is defined to perfection.
I place my hand on my hip and tap my index finger against the shirt. “Are you done?”
He drags his eyes up my body, pausing on my breasts.
Yeah, even in a sports bra I have cleavage. “Draco, you’re two seconds from a foot to the nuts.”
His gaze clashes with mine, and he releases a dark chuckle. “I think I like grumpy Raven.”
I squint at him. “Class is getting ready to start. Shouldn’t you find your place?”
The smile slashing across his face tells me all I need to know. My heart gives a heavy thump.
Draco is the instructor.
“You’ve put it together then,” he says, probably noticing the color draining from my face.
I glance around, noticing for the first time that I’m the only one here. “Where’s everyone else?”
Brushing back the longer strands of his jet-black hair, he glances around. “No one told you?”
I shake my head.
“All new shifters train alone for the first month.” His eyes flash with something curious, not quite malice, but not exactly kind either. Darkness might be the right word for it.
