The Fervor: A Sinful Supes Story Page 4

  Why do people keep calling me that?

  I glanced over to see who said it, but instantly regretted looking into the sea of ravenous inhuman gazes. OK, so there were only fifteen or so Supes, but it felt like hundreds. I was so out of sorts I didn’t even think to sit near an exit; if anything I cornered myself against a wall. Stupid.

  “Name.”

  Good. At least that guy would take the attention off me and sit in the hot seat for a while.

  “Now.”

  My head snapped toward the teacher’s nose which pointed directly at me, “Claire Sommers, sir.”

  “Well Miss Sommers, if you ever take a truant step in this classroom again you will be dropped from the program. I will not abide distractions during my lecture. Do I make myself clear?”

  I nodded.

  “Be a big girl and use your voice, Miss Sommers.”

  I cleared my throat, “It’s perfectly clear,” …that you’re a dick. Any hope I had for teacher assistance shriveled and died. So much for my grand plan. Clearly I was a dumbass for thinking running to a Supe would solve my problems.

  The incident outside must have scrambled my brain more than I realized.

  “Now as I was saying, the Pareto principle, commonly known as the 80/20 rule…” The door opened and in stepped the Alpha. “Is there a reason why you miscreants think it’s acceptable to arrive late?”

  I held my breath.

  The Alpha’s eyes zeroed in on me.

  “Name!” The professor spat.

  The Alpha slowly tore his gaze from me and stared Professor Capshaw down. An enormous wave of power washed over us. The professor nearly choked on it judging by his widened eyes. The room stilled.

  “Lucas Masters,” the wolf king announced. “If it’s alright with you, I’ll be auditing your class today.” It wasn’t a request.

  Capshaw took no time to compose himself and plastered on a beatific smile that I almost believed.

  “Of course, Mr. Masters. Apologies for my uncouth behavior, I did not realize an esteemed gentleman such as yourself would be on campus tonight.” He simpered with a slight head inclination and swept his hand toward all the empty seats. “It would be an honor.”

  I gaped.

  Seriously!? I got torn a new asshole and Mr. Masters’ presence would be an honor?

  I didn’t have time to worry about it because Lucas strode toward me, wearing a cocky grin. I wanted to groan and let my head thud against the table. This cannot be happening.

  Lucas pulled out the chair next to mine and plopped down. The weight of his large arm gently settled across my shoulders.

  Jesus Christ, this guy had nerve. I would have shoved his arm off but I had the itchy feeling everyone in the classroom was watching. Which they were. Even the professor, until Lucas used his free hand to make this pompous shooing motion with his pointer and middle finger. Now that the wolf king allowed it, the lecture resumed.

  I stared at him, mildly horrified by his power. How the hell am I going to extract myself from this stage-five-clinger? I should have known it wouldn’t be easy. It always took longer for the hot ones to get rejection past their thick skulls.

  He leaned in as if to kiss my neck again. I tensed up, so not down for PDA or to give my body libido whiplash—it had just calmed down.

  Instead he whispered, lips brushing against the shell of my ear, “I didn’t like how he spoke to you.” Shivers zipped down my spine.

  Of course the freaky wolf king could hear through doors. Hell, the whole classroom probably heard what he’d said to me. In fact, Professor Capshaw looked a little paler—if that's even possible.

  I shrugged his arm off and grabbed a pen and notebook out of my satchel. I could at least pretend to pay attention. I certainly didn’t want to give him the impression that it was acceptable to touch me, or that my traitorous body enjoyed his close contact.

  I focused on finding the next piece of blank paper in my notebook. I scribbled Business Management, dog-eared the page, and then flipped the next one to begin my notes starting with the 20/80 rule. Or was it the 80/20 rule? Good thing I planned on never coming to this class again. Screw the scholarship.

  Suddenly my pen was plucked from my grip. Lucas sent me an adorable grin where he partially bit his plump bottom lip. He had really nice straight teeth and those lips…

  I snapped out of my trance when Lucas swiveled my notebook back toward me.

  In boyish scrawl: You stopped me from starting a war with the hyenas. I think I owe you dinner.

  I grabbed another pen from my bag and viciously wrote, No thanks. I contemplated saying we’re even, but it seemed too flirty. I left it as is.

  I pointedly stared at the white board, very aware that he had commandeered my notebook again.

  His capped pen lightly traced down my forearm.

  Every little hair on my arm stood at attention, like flowers presenting themselves to the sun.

  My left hand fisted under the desk, leaving half-moon nail imprints on my palm. The small pinch of pain helped center myself. The last thing I needed was to lose control of my body again. Especially over someone who broke a guy’s legs in front of me less than twenty minutes ago.

  I glared at him, only to be met with the irritatingly adorable grin again. Was this guy bipolar? Was I? I focused on the note, it's safer than his face.

  I really am sorry for my behavior back there. I shouldn’t have taken advantage.

  Or stalked me. I didn’t bother writing a response but gave him a tight, annoyed grimace-smile.

  He continued writing, his hand movements deliberate and precise. I don’t normally act like that. My self-control is usually a strong suit of mine.

  Yeah, OK buddy, I rolled my eyes and wrote: K.

  You know, I suspect my loss of impulse control might have something to do with you. What flavor of Supe are you, Claire?

  Cold flooded. A brick settled in the pit of my stomach because I just realized that a feral opened me up with his nails and another put a dose of saliva in me.

  Would I transform into a fucking feral? Could fae even change into ferals? But I’m practically human and I knew for a fact humans were susceptible to the contagion. Oh God.

  I frantically scribbled, AM I GOING TO TURN?

  He furrowed his brows and met my eyes. Clearly, he didn’t know what I was talking about.

  Am I going to turn into a hyena or a w— the rest of the word turned into a scribble that crossed out half my message because a certain someone was too impatient to wait for me to finish.

  Don’t worry, the studies have it right. We’re not infectious in human form.

  I didn’t even know I held my breath until I deflated. His eyes caught mine in an intense stare. I suddenly felt judged for freaking out like that, or maybe my reaction made him feel uncomfortable. After all, it’s kind of an insult to him.

  If he was offended, he didn’t show it, but I saw no sympathy either.

  Great, now I felt obligated to continue the conversation—if only in thanks for putting my mind at ease. He could have let me suffer. But answering his question was a bad idea. Some deep instinct inside me wrenched at the thought of flaunting my succubus status.

  Changing the subject I wrote, What did that guy mean about feeling powerful for once? He was a feral for crying out loud. He could probably lift a car. With his pinky.

  Weak hyena. Lucas stated like that said it all.

  I frowned. Clearly I was out of the loop on feral culture. I’m new to all this. Enlighten me. It looked a little bossy put like that, so I tacked on a please for propriety. And maybe a little for safety, too—when dealing with a wolf king it was probably best not to piss him off too much.

  He smirked at me as if he thought I was being cute. Hyenas have a vicious pecking order. Females are revered, but if you’re a low-ranking male… life is not fun.

  Do I even want to know? I scribbled.

  His pen hovered over the paper. I looked up to find him appraising me. Not i
n a heated way, more like a puzzle that needed all its pieces arranged. After a moment he wrote: Probably not. You’re too innocent.

  Innocent? Give me a break. I grew up with gangbangers next door. I’ve been in the hospital three times because Leticia Rodriguez and her bitches didn’t appreciate her boyfriend having an unrequited fascination with me. I still got phantom sensations of her knife pressed against my throat when she explained in detail what happens to those who cross her.

  Whenever I’m haunted by that blade or see my collection of hospital wrist bands, I imagine the look on her face when she heard what I did to her boyfriend the last time I visited home.

  The way I see it, if I’m going to take beatings for “tempting” her man, then I might as well be guilty of it. I suppose causing a guy to blow his load in his pants— from a few whispered words— in front of an entire party should have been my first clue that I wasn’t entirely normal.

  But innocent?

  Not me.

  I arched my brow and channeled my inner Camilla while I issued my challenge: Try me.

  His eyes darkened in response, they darted down to my lips. Then he grinned and wrote: Maybe later. I don’t want to scare you off.

  Too bad, he already had just for being himself. But keeping the conversation going to wheedle information from him was in my best interest. After all, if being a Supe was my life now, shouldn’t I be prepared or at least knowledgeable of my community? Who knows, certain information could prevent me from making a fatal mistake one day.

  Like walking into a roomful of vamps bleeding from the neck.

  Why don’t people realize you’re the Alpha right away? Is it because you’re new?

  I’m not that new. I took control of the pack over a year ago. As for people not recognizing me as Alpha, it’s because I can regulate my scent and power level. People usually think I’m an omega unless I decide otherwise.

  Well, that tidbit spit in the face of everything I knew about ferals…

  Why? I thought ferals were all about intimidation and dominance displays. Wouldn’t projecting yourself as weaker undermine your position?

  He smiled secretly to himself. It comes in handy.

  I sensed a story there, but if I took the bait and gave into my curiosity he would win. Besides I needed to focus on relevant information extraction so I countered with: Why does everyone call you the new Alpha if you’ve been around for a year?

  Lucas stared off for a while, jaw tight. Then he wrote: Probably to establish separation between me and the last Alpha. He wasn’t a good guy.

  I sensed this topic was off limits so I left it alone; possibly because part of me respected Lucas Masters. And not just the healthy amount of respect one affords an entity that could snap your neck.

  I might be starting to like him as a person. It was strange since I’d never experienced affection toward the guys who’ve developed unfounded crushes on me. And just like that, I remembered whatever connection we were forming was fake. Any interest Lucas had in me was just a side effect of my fae blood.

  He must have sensed the shift in my mood.

  I take it you’ve heard of him?

  No, I just moved here a few weeks ago. But I think everyone’s heard of Red Crescent’s reputation. Hell, Camilla’s father had been tracking the dangerous pack from California. It was only a matter of time before a charter of the pack ended up in my hometown’s backyard.

  It’s a work in progress. He wrote. But it will never be pristine.

  That was putting it mildly.

  There’d been too much bloodshed for that, too many expansions and hostile takeovers. I’d heard rumors of entire packs slaughtered by Red Crescent. It was a shame the government refused to get involved with Supe politics unless human lives were endangered. Honestly, we’ve had no problem sticking our noses in other countries’ affairs, so why couldn’t our government handle our own mess first?

  I glanced at his last sentence again. Yeah, definitely not pristine.

  Even if they steered clear of bad press for the next fifty years, Red Crescent would always have a genocidal stain on their hands. It’d be like thinking of Germany without associating the country to the Nazi party. Some histories can never be erased.

  Are you still, I paused, considering a nice inoffensive word to use. Expanding?

  Papa Carlos had shown me websites that tracked suspected Red Crescent territory—including the smattering of charters branching across the entire continent. Though at the time, I was more concerned with the one that had sprouted on the border of Oregon and Washington.

  I knew my family was upset I transferred to a college in Colorado, smack dab in the bulk of Red Crescent territory—according to one of Papa Carlos’ maps the entire state was slathered in red that splashed out beyond the borders. Logically I knew the leadership was based in this slice of the country… I just hadn't expected to be sitting next to him.

  And I had the audacity to use him for information? I must have hit my head harder on that door than I thought.

  Why, wanna join?

  I frowned and wrote, I’m no wolf.

  But you’re special. You’re worth breaking a few rules over. He grinned at me like a goof and tucked some stray strands of hair behind my ear. Unfortunately, it didn’t occur to me to flinch. How the hell did I become accustomed to his casual touch?

  I frowned harder. I needed to put a stop to this. It wasn’t real and I had no right to force this fake infatuation on him. Indulging this exchange of notes was a mistake.

  Look, I wrote. Whatever effect you think I have on you, it’s not real.

  And what effect do you think you have on me, Claire?

  Don’t play games. Grinding your dick on me wasn’t subtle, so I won’t be either. This thing between you and me isn’t happening. I underlined the last two words. Twice.

  Lucas lifted his brow at that, amused. Oh, I’m pretty sure it’s happening.

  I wanted to smack the smirk off his handsome face.

  No, IT’S NOT. Sometimes you had to be brutal for a guy to see reason. Whatever you feel isn't real. It’s just some weird reaction to being in my presence because of my “flavor of Supe.”

  The mirth slid off his face. He looked like a different person, worn, weary, and hardened. No longer a sparkle-eyed college kid, but a serious man with heavy responsibilities upon his shoulders.

  Somewhere along the string of flirtations and playful grins, I’d forgotten he was the Alpha; the title had lost its impact, like he was just a regular guy with a unique job. I needed to remember that being Alpha wasn’t a job, it was who he is.

  Without breaking eye contact he wrote: I know.

  I blinked at his note, feeling both relieved and horrified that he already knew he’d been manipulated by my blood—and was still interested. I guess it shouldn’t have come as a surprise since he stated his suspicions at the start. But I didn’t expect him to follow up with: If you’re what I think you are, you’re in danger.

  Control yourself. You reek of fear. He wrote.

  His eyes burned bright gold. If this wolf king whose control was, and I quote, a strong suit of his… then all the other predators in the room were probably itching to bite me open.

  I closed my eyes, focused on slowing my heart rate, on breathing in and out to the mental image of a lotus flower opening and closing. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat.

  After thirty seconds of this I opened my eyes, to find him staring at me. His Adam’s apple bobbed, then he quickly blinked the beast out of his eyes. He gave a little nod of encouragement and grabbed the notebook. When he was done writing, he turned it toward me.

  Try not to freak out this time, but did the professor try to glaze you in the beginning of class?

  My eyes widened and I nodded.

  Lucas’ jaw tightened, face grim. My answer had confirmed his suspicions. The time it took him to write what he had to say felt like an eternity.

  Have you felt the urge to approach him, alone?

 
My heart stopped and my veins ran cold.

  All the lotus relaxation techniques in the world couldn’t stop me from the beginnings of a panic attack. I started to hyperventilate, but he grabbed my thigh under the desk and squeezed. My chest expanded and retracted silently but it didn’t feel like I was getting any oxygen. Lucas squeezed my thigh again but I couldn’t use that as a touchstone; I was too far gone. A girl can only take so many death threats in one night.

  Almost every head in the classroom turned toward me. My adrenaline spiked. There was no way I was going to calm down, not as I watched feral eyes shift into various colors of the rainbow. Their beasts wanted to play.

  Lucas stood up and growled, baring his teeth toward the rest of the room. Most of the Supes averted their gazes, but a bold few, including Professor Capshaw, kept their eyes glued to me. I broke out into a cold sweat, this time my hyperventilating loud and harsh in the still room.

  Lucas grabbed my hand and started dragging me toward the door. I picked a point between his broad shoulders and focused my entire attention on that spot. The edges of my vision blurred out except for where his white button down slid over defined back muscle. It was the only thing that kept me grounded.

  I don’t remember moving my feet but the next thing I knew I was outside with a sharp stinging to my cheek.

  A beat of astonished silence passed.

  “Did… did you just slap me?” I asked, shocked. But at least it no longer felt like there was something blocking my airways. Thank God, it was only a panic attack and not my lungs acting up again—considering my rescue inhaler was back in the classroom.

  He shrugged, completely unapologetic. “Do you always start hyperventilating every time someone wants to kill you?”

  I took a moment to think about it. Maybe Leticia and company had given me PTSD or something? Or, maybe it was a perfectly reasonable response to murder.

  “I’m sorry,” I snapped. “My fatal encounters tend to be more spread out throughout the day. I usually take the prospect of torture and death in stride.”

  “You must have grown up so sheltered.” He shook his head, looking annoyed.

  “How I grew up is none of your business.” What a prick. He didn’t know anything about me or what I’d been through. Even if he wouldn’t be impressed by Leticia’s torments, I’d like to see him live just one day in my failing body.