Crescent Wolves - G. Bailey Page 0,27
I’ll be,” he says, shaking his head. “My apologies, Ms. Brix. It’s so dreadfully difficult to keep all the new faces around here straight. Well, go ahead and take a seat. There’s an open desk in the back, next to Hunter.” He points toward the back of the classroom, at an empty desk in the corner.
Good, I think. At least I’ll be in the back. I hurry toward it, eager to have the others stop staring at me, and find myself sitting down next to a silent boy who’s hunched over the desk closest to the window. His hair is a shock of bronze red, the color of a new penny, and his eyes are bluer than I would have thought humanly--or inhumanly--possible. His attractiveness is more alien than some of the other guys I’ve seen around the academy, a more clear reminder that he’s not a human… and as I glance around the room, I see that the others have a similar otherworldly beauty. Now I understand what Hazel was saying about eye candy. Hunter’s features are sharp and chiseled, and his skin is so pale that he might be mistaken for a corpse. Go figure, right?
As if sensing my eyes on him, he hunches lower over his desk, his eyes sliding over to look at me. Raising my eyebrows, I look away, remembering what Hazel said about new vampires’ attitudes and doubting that I’ll be cozying up to anyone in this class anytime soon.
Professor Huxley has returned to the podium, rustling a stack of papers, he’s clearly scatterbrained, but so far he seems more or less harmless. I’ll take it, even if it means being mistaken for someone else. Hell, maybe that would even be a blessing. “Now,” he says, “while we’re waiting for Amelia, let’s start the lesson off with a simple exercise. Today we’ll be discussing blood drinking, but no vampire worth his salt drinks blood without first knowing how to use his fangs.” He spreads his arms out, a gleeful look on his face. “With that in mind, I’d like you all to partner with the person closest to you and take turns manifesting your fangs. Just your fangs, mind you--you’re all beginners, and I don’t want anyone else sent to the nurse this week. I’ll be making rounds to monitor your progress. Don’t worry, Millie,” he adds, looking at me, “if you’re stuck, just follow along and you’ll get the hang of it. Practice is the best way to learn!”
He makes a shooing motion with his hands, signal enough to get started. Immediately, the classroom erupts with activity as the students turn to their partners and begin the exercise. I find myself looking to my right to see if my other neighbor seems friendlier than this Hunter guy. No such luck; she’s already partnered up with someone else, barely sparing me a second glance.
Shoulders slumping, I turn back around to Hunter, who still looks like someone just told him his mother died. “Hi,” I say tentatively. “I’m Millie. Should we…?”
Hunter takes a long breath before turning to me. “Yeah,” he says. “Sure. Fine. You first.”
“I, uh…” I clear my throat. “I’m totally new to this. I mean, I… I don’t know how to…”
“Fine,” says Hunter, crossing his arms, his expression still stoic. “I’ll keep my expectations low.”
I can feel the blush returning to my cheeks as I glance around at the other students. Some of them are already baring their fangs, while others seem to have gotten too gung ho and are struggling to transform the right parts of their bodies. I know this is supposed to be a beginners’ class, but I don’t even know where to begin. The only time I’ve transformed, I had adrenaline on my side, and I hadn’t been thinking about it. I don’t know if I could transform now if my life depended on it. “That’s the thing,” I say, biting my lip. “I’ve never done this before.”
Hunter snorts. “You had to have. You’re here, aren’t you?”
Now I can feel myself getting frustrated. “Come on,” I say, “the professor said you’d be able to help me. Don’t tell me you knew how to transform after a single time!”
“No,” he replies. “And I still don’t, so I’m about as useful as you are right now.”
I blink. That wasn’t what I had been expecting. “You can’t make fangs?”
“Or anything,” Hunter answers dryly. “Hence, I suppose, why I’m in the back of the classroom.”
“Oh.” I frown. “How long have you been