Midnight Guardian Page 6

  Jordan squeezes tight enough to cut off my breathing as he shakes with unbridled rage. “Like I’ve told you many fucking times, I love Isobel. You love her too, and if you weren’t so fucking absorbed in your male pride, you would realize that she’s hurting way more than you ever could. She lost something that’s broken her and she needed you, she needed both of us, and I couldn’t even stay because I didn’t want to choose sides, but fuck it, I’m done. You want to force me to choose sides in this ridiculous fucking argument you have? Then fine. But it won’t be you! And it won’t be the fucking council. It will be that girl out there who needs me!”

  With one final shake, he lets me go and I drop to the floor, gasping for air, my vision spotty from the lack of oxygen. When my gaze clears, it’s to watch Jordan roll up the sleeve of his shirt and reveal the council’s rune that’s magically burned in the exact same spot as my own.

  The mark is magically infused by the council and the witches they have at their beck and call. They can be given for many different reasons, depending on the intent behind them. Ours only keeps us from telling Isobel anything about the past Alpha’s and their role in this world. There are only two ways to get rid of such a mark. The first is the easiest and least painful choice. You can simply ask the council to release you from the bond and hope they allow it.

  Or, there’s the painful option, the one that will most certainly guarantee death. You can cut the mark from your skin and break your rune’s power. Only by doing so, the magic behind the rune poisons you.

  “J, what are you doing?” I ask warily, through the burn in my esophagus. If he does this, his life will be forfeit to the council and he could very well die.

  “I’m doing what I should have done when they gave us this stupid fucking brand.” His nails elongate to claws and he grits his teeth in preparation before he digs in and rips the chunk of skin from his arm.

  Panting, with a sheen of sweat coating his face, and blood running down his arm, he throws the patch of skin at me. I catch it on reflex, looking down in complete and utter shock.

  Jordan stands above me with a hand pressed over his arm, trying to limit the blood flow. Even with his advanced healing, the wound he just made won’t mend itself naturally. It’s going to heal humanly slow, if it ever heals at all.

  “Well? You gonna stop being a fucking pussy and find our girl? Or are you going to continue being the council’s little bitch for the rest of your life?”

  Chapter Four

  Isobel

  The doors that lead to my new home are marked with the words “Dorm B.” It’s painted a bland white and has multiple glass windows, something that strikes me as odd considering this place houses supes that could break through them with one accidental hit. Even the double doors leading into the building are glass. Why not opt for reinforced steel doors like the council had in their compound? Surely in a place with so many supes that would be a better alternative than glass. The windows could be made with bulletproof glass to increase their durability. It wouldn’t be foolproof, but it wouldn’t break on impact if a supe tripped and landed against the pane.

  Shaking my head to rid myself of these inconsequential concerns, I open the door on the right and step inside the foyer. Even though I don’t particularly want to share a dorm with other people, I know it’s the only way to blend in and to remain hidden, I need to surround myself with many scents to mask mine. Drake and Jordan both said that while they could scent the soft undertone of cinnamon that was purely me, everyone else seemed to have difficulty picking up on it, so being here is probably the best place for me to hide.

  I take in a deep breath, enjoying the soft fragrance of the space. Most places supes reside have an overwhelming odor of sweat, blood, and death. Not to mention the staggering aroma of whatever species live in the place. But in here, all that’s covered by a soft lemon fragrance that reminds me strongly of my mother’s fresh lemon meringue pie.

  I cross the beige linoleum floors, debating on whether to use the elevator or the stairs. Usually, if I was out in a public place, I’d use an elevator just to be lazy, but I should really use the stairs more often.

  Not only is it good practice to get used to them in the off chance that I have to haul ass out of here, but it will also be another aspect to my exercise regime that I may not get while I’m here. I mean, they have a gym on campus, but there weren’t any pictures available of the inside, so I’m not sure what kind of setup it has. It could be a simple hall gymnasium meant for sporting activities, or an actual gym with the proper facilities one would need to train their body. Hopefully, it’s the latter though. I’d rather not get too complacent by taking the elevator all the time.

  I hike my backpack up over my shoulder and use the crook of my elbow to keep my duffle bag close. This way I can still keep hold of my envelope of materials while leaving a hand free to draw my gun if necessary. I would hope it wouldn’t be needed, because the people at this school should presumably be untrained, but I’m not willing to risk my safety. Maybe once I’ve settled in, I can let go of the safety blankets that are my weapons, but for the time being, they will stick by my side as if they are a part of me.

  I take the stairs two at a time, feeling the familiar burn in my muscles, and a smile breaks out on my face. Training was one thing I really enjoyed doing with the guys, but since I’ve left, I’ve slacked on my fitness. Because of my nightly hunts, I’ve kept in somewhat decent shape, but if I really want to be at my best, I need to go find a real gym, even if it’s just a human one.

  Halfway up the stairwell, I pause to adjust my bag strap. It’s so tattered and really should be swapped out for a new one, but I love all the little pockets both inside and out. It makes hiding weapons and valuables that much easier. As I continue up the steps, the sounds of other people on each floor become more apparent, and it starts to make me a little uneasy. It’s just like college, I reassure myself.

  At the door to the fifth floor, I take a moment to prepare myself before going in. I’m both nervous and excited right now. Nervous, because I spent the past six months hiding from the council, and the idea of being near others sets my anxiety on edge. But I’m also excited to get the answers that have been kept from me. Finally, I’ll figure out why the fuck I have powers of multiple supes.

  I shake my thoughts away, pushing the door open. I automatically grimace at the scene before me and regret not just renting an apartment somewhere in town.

  Guys and girls roam the hall, laughing and interacting without a care in the world. Being an all age school, I expected there to be a few people of varying ages on my floor, but no, because I was too lazy to check the dorm assignments when I hacked the system, I’ve landed myself on a floor with what looks to be a bunch of teens at a high school age.

  Not that I have a problem with teens in general. Hell, I was one. But it means there are going to be a lot of snippy supes here, and my temper is not the best. I thought I could finally put all that childish drama behind me, but now it feels like I’m going to subject myself to that same torture.

  The things we do to get answers.

  As I walk into the corridor, my body buzzes with the energy of everyone around me—a side effect of being their Alpha.

  Vampires and shifters seem to be the majority, and the types of shifters up here are pretty varied—wolves, bears, tigers, and panthers, and I even feel the energy of a swan brush against me. I wonder what a swan would look like in the flesh, I think to myself as I unconsciously look for the odd bird in the room. I’ve never seen a swan shifter before, so of course, I find myself fascinated to get a glimpse.

  It still shocks me that I could recognize its energy so easily. Jordan told me I would be able to as my power grew, but it still surprises me every time I’m exposed to a new energy and I know instantly what it is.

  With each step I take down the hall, energy buzzes through my veins and people stop to stare. It feels like walking through tar, the urge to stop and make them submit to me, their
Alpha, but I push on.

  In their eyes, you can see they have no clue why they feel the pull to me, the fear and need to be submissive. Most of them shrink back, avoiding touching me physically, but there are a few eyes among them who watch me with hostility. The dominant supes, the ones unsure why I’m causing such a reaction in them and their friends.

  I have to fight the urge to growl at the people who are openly meeting my gaze. My animal side doesn’t like it one bit. Neither does my human side. It feels like there’s a giant spotlight on my face, particularly where my scars are.

  I knew some would openly gawk, but I also expected the rest of them to have hideous scars too, marks that showed they, too, were turned in an attack. I can’t be the only supe to have been turned in such a violent way. All my scars have stayed because I was technically human when they were inflicted. The claw marks on my face, the bite on my ankle and the mauled flesh over my chest and stomach. All of it a constant reminder of how viciously I was attacked and unwittingly turned.

  As I walk by a Fae who openly gapes, I can’t help the thread of insecurity that weaves into my heart. Is it just my scars he’s staring at or is he surprised by the draw to me? Do I really want to know?

  For a year and a half, Drake and Jordan practically drooled over me without taking much notice of my scars. They both reassured me they were nothing to be upset about because they showed exactly what I went through and survived. That it made me more attractive to them. And while I’ve never been one to be vain about my appearance, now I feel awkward and self-conscious.

  Over the past six months, I never really gave much notice to people’s reactions, because I mainly operated in the dark of night. The few people who did see my scars never openly stared.

  I pull more of my hair to the left side, using the long strands to conceal the scars on my face as I pick up my pace. According to the map, my room is right at the back of the hall, which I was glad for, but now I’m seriously considering hacking into the mainframe again and finding myself a better place to stay. Or just axing the whole idea of lodging on the grounds and finding a place to stay in the city.

  With each step, I find myself no longer concerned over my appearance, more distracted by the fact I can sense so many Fae. They should be pretty damn scarce, since their species is close to extinction, at least according to everything the council told me in my time there.

  I was educated in the many different species of supernaturals, and the ways in which they were turned. What I learned was that when a human is turned, they can turn into any species. But if the right conditions were followed, the type of supe they changed into could be controlled. For instance, to turn someone into a Fae, it takes an exchange of blood with a human on the night of a blue moon at high tide. Since a true blue moon is extremely rare, only occurring once every two to three years, it makes it difficult for them to replenish their race.

  According to the council texts, the Fae are the supes most likely to commit murder by turning humans, because when the blue moon does occur, the Fae all over the world band together and try to turn multiple people at once in an effort to increase their numbers. But whether they like it or not, not all humans have the genetic structure to handle being turned. It’s a fifty-fifty chance on whether one would make it through the transition, and then there’s a risk the person won’t mentally adjust and take their own life. Or, despite the circumstances, they may still end up being a shifter or witch rather than a Fae.

  The council informed me that for a while, they had begun offering humans that were dying a chance to become Fae when the blue moon was close. It was thought to be the better solution since humans with a new lease on life were less likely to end it if they didn’t adjust well. They would simply need more time and would eventually learn to love their new existence.

  I mean, I guess I understood why they thought such a thing would work, but even the council admitted that it didn’t turn out that way. Some people just couldn’t stand the idea of being a creature other than human.

  I’m jostled out of my thoughts when a female lion shifter bumps into me. “Freak,” she mutters, shouldering me as she passes. It takes all my willpower not to reach out and snap her neck. Instead, I take a deep breath and continue my trek down the hall. How does such a short corridor feel like it’s taking a year to get down?

  When I see the sign for the bathrooms, I fight back a shudder. I knew I’d be sharing a dorm with men as well as females, but sharing the bathrooms too? That feels like a bit much.

  It’s not that I’m worried about being naked around a bunch of supes. I’m pretty used to it now, but seeing that most of the people here don’t have any outward scars has me a little wary about them seeing the extent of mine. The four ragged cuts on my cheek are not the only reminder of what that fucked up Alpha did to me before he finally died.

  My stomach and chest are littered in the scars that were left behind as the Supreme Alpha tried to kill me. But luck was on my side and I was able to gut the bastard.

  I worry that seeing my marks, which are indicative of a mauling, will create a lot of interest in the way I was turned, and that’s not something I ever want to relive. Especially with strangers.

  Finally, after what seems like forever, the rest of the people in the hall go back to whatever it was they were doing and ignore my presence as best they can. I overlook the side glances and mutters, focusing only on my room and how quickly I can get to it.

  I reach my door, eager to get inside, but a hand grabs my arm and I freeze. The hold isn’t painful, but it’s a firm enough grip to deter me from moving.

  I fucking hate people touching me! Especially when I’m not the one to initiate the touch. Let’s just say I have issues.

  “If you don’t let go of me right now, I will rip your arm from your socket and feed it to you,” I growl, vibrating with anger. No one touches me without my say so.

  “Okay then, I’m letting you go. No sudden movements. Please don’t rip my arm off. I wouldn’t be complete without it,” a male mocks, as he slowly releases me. Is he trying to be funny right now?

  Once his touch disappears, I grab the ID card which also doubles as my room key and slide the key in, waiting for the beep.

  The little mechanical lock on the door bleeps, and I throw open my door, not looking back at the idiot who I can still sense behind me. In my eagerness to be out of the hall, the envelope in my hand drops, and I almost lose my hold on my duffle in an attempt to catch it.

  “Son of a mother fucking bitch!” I grumble in frustration, and throw my bags into the room before dropping to my feet and gathering my stuff.

  The guy who grasped me also bends down to help me scoop up the contents of the envelope and hands them to me.

  I sigh, taking them gently so as to not frighten him. He did help me, but I’m not the best with guys. Jordan and Drake were the only two men I ever really connected with in this new world, and with the feelings I still hold for them, I don’t know if I could open up to another. Hell, I slept with Jordan less than twenty-four hours ago. At the time, it felt like nothing more than a quick reunion before we parted ways again, but I can’t help but hope that maybe he’ll abandon the council and follow me.

  “Thank you,” I murmur, softening my tone so it’s not quite growling, but I can still feel the anger in my voice. Oh well. I don’t need to make friends who would probably just betray me to the council at the first chance they got.

  Well, I tell myself that but, to be honest, it would be nice to have someone in my life that I could trust. I haven’t had that in the last six months, and despite Jordan doing his best to help me when we did cross paths, he’s still in the council’s pocket. There is only so much trust I’m willing to place in him these days.

  We both straighten and my gaze lifts, studying this new man from the feet up. Plain white sneakers cover his feet, and he wears long dark slacks and a soft blue button-up shirt, looking very much like he’s on his way to attend a meeting.

&nbs
p; When my eyes land on his face, I’m met with light, moss green eyes that captivate me.

  He simply stares at me like I’m some kind of puzzle he has to figure out. While he studies me, I do the same, noticing he’s definitely not the same age as the rest of the people on this floor. He looks to be at least thirty, which is a little surprising.

  He also appears to be an authority figure of some kind, judging by the way people cast glances his way. Their expressions are filled with wonder and awe. But then there’s also a fair amount of lust in the looks the girls send him. And why wouldn’t they? He’s damn adorable, if I do say so myself.

  Beautiful gold hair falls down over his eyes, and his prominent jaw is scattered with a soft layer of stubble, just enough to make him appealing to me. Facial hair is usually a no for me, but on this guy, paired with his pale pink lips, it makes him look damn near irresistible.

  I pray to whatever God is out there that this specimen of hotness doesn’t live on my floor, because I don’t know if I could resist that temptation.

  My eyes roam over his body, admiring the fact he’s in fairly good shape. It takes a lot for a guy to retain muscle as a supe. We have to keep up the protein intake and keep fit like a normal human, but if we slack on the protein, our muscle mass dissolves faster than humanly possible.

  His power is thrumming under his skin, and I know with just a glance that he’s most definitely a shifter of some kind, but he’s somehow cloaking himself from giving off what type of shifter. The fact that he’s able to do such a thing means he’s pretty high on the power chain. The only other supe I’ve met who could do such a thing is Drake, and even then, once I knew what shifter he was, it was easy to see the wolf mannerisms he adopted, even in human form.

  It should worry me how much power this guy holds under his skin, but there is something almost enchanting about him. The power is not just within him, but in the way he holds himself. Confident, but not arrogant. I like that in a guy.