Crescent Wolves - G. Bailey Page 0,23

Landon, this is Millie. She’s new.”

The boy looks up from his food. He’s quite possibly the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen, with softer features and skin of a dark caramel brown. There’s a dusting of freckles across his nose, and his hair is dark, curly, and unkempt. He smiles broadly at me when I meet his black eyes. “Pleasure,” he says, reaching across the table.

I shake his hand, a little amused at the gesture but appreciating the friendliness in his expression. “Landon Thyme. It’s always nice to see a new face around here, especially one as lovely as yours.”

I feel a blush creeping into my cheeks, and Hazel kicks at him under the table. “Come on, Landon.”

“What?” he asks innocently, grinning at her.

“She’s been here for all of a day and you’re already hitting on her!” Hazel retorts, but her tone is light-hearted.

“I was stating a fact,” Landon shoots back, his eyes meeting mine for a moment. “That’s different than hitting on someone.”

Hazel rolls her eyes, turning to me. “Don’t listen to him. He’s full of shit.”

I chuckle. “He seems okay to me,”

“Checkmate, Hazel,” Landon says, laughing. “Everyone knows I’m the best thing to ever have happened to this school.”

“You know, just because you’re a siren, you don’t have to be so predictable,” Hazel retorts. “Landon’s the biggest player in the school,” she tells me. “Or at least, he seems to think so.”

“I know so,” Landon replies. “But for your sake, Millie,” he adds, making a put-upon face, “I’ll tone it down a little. Don’t want to spook you or anything.”

I shook my head, grinning. I like this guy. “Hazel was just telling me a little about sirens,” I tell Landon. “I’m not really familiar… I mean, like she said, it’s my first day.”

“No classes yet, then?” Landon asks.

“Not yet,” I answer. “I start tomorrow.”

“Nice,” he observes, nodding.

“So what classes do you have on your schedule?” asks Hazel, leaning an elbow on the table. I can feel a surge of nervousness at the question. I guess I should have known it would come sooner or later, but I was still futilely hoping that I would be able to fly under the radar for a little longer before explaining my situation. I lick my lips, my shoulders slumping. “Was that the wrong question to ask?” Hazel says. “Do you have Professor McDonald for History of Shifting or something?”

I shake my head. “I’m actually not taking that class. That’s the thing.” I take a breath, feeling self-conscious. Will these tentative new acquaintances think I’m some sort of unnatural adnomination? But by now they’re both staring at me pointedly, and I can sense the curious gazes of some of the others at the table who have been listening in. “They don’t know what kind of shifter I am,” I reply, chewing my lip as I look from Hazel to Landon.

Hazel frowns. “What do you mean, they don’t know? Usually that’s the first thing the recruiters tell you when they track you down.”

“I know,” I say with a sigh. “This is the part where you guys will think I’m a freak and you’ll never want to talk to me again.” My tone is joking, but there’s real worry beneath it.

“Listen, Millie,” Landon says, “we’re all freaks. That’s kind of why we’re here. I don’t think anything you could tell us would surprise us at this point.”

Hazel nods, eyes wide, and I can tell they mean it. Steeling myself, I reply, “The thing is, back when I first transformed, I sort of… shifted into all five clans at once.” Seeing the others’ confusion, I elaborate. “I mean, I had fur and claws, right? But also fangs, and red skin, scales like yours… and I breathed fire.”

I’m half-expecting them to move away, or burst out laughing. A lifetime of difficulty making friends has me prepared for the worst, so I’m surprised when Hazel just purses her lips. “Interesting,” she says. “The fur and claws would mean wolf shifter--werewolf, to the uninitiated.” She gives me a conspiratorial grin. “The red skin means witch, obviously, and the fangs…”

“Vampire,” Landon adds, nodding. I pull a face, and he laughs, adding, “Don’t worry. They only need to drink blood when they’re in vampire form.”

“Thank god for small favors, I guess,” I mutter, and he snorts.

“The scales are a siren thing,” Hazel continues, glancing at Landon, “so welcome to the club. And as for the fire breathing… Well, I’m sure you can figure that out.”

“That’s wild,” Landon remarked. “I can’t imagine