Crescent Wolves - G. Bailey Page 0,30

wing of the dormitory. Small world, I think, unable to keep the smile off my face. “Hey, Landon,” Silas says, closing his book and sitting up. “I figured I might see you out here today.”

“You know me,” Landon replies. “I’m a sucker for nice weather. Anyway,” he says, stretching a little, “I heard something about a pop quiz in Morris’ class today.”

“Damn, really?” Silas wrinkles his nose. “Well, I guess I know what I’m doing for the rest of the period.” His eyes turn to me, and he gives me a crooked smile. “You look strangely familiar,” he says, pulling a face and stroking his chin. “But I can’t put my finger on it.”

“I’m the girl you saved from untold amounts of embarrassment yesterday,” I remind him, laughing.

Hazel raises her eyebrows, looking between the two of us. “Oh? This I have to hear.”

Silas scoots back to make room for us, and we sit down in a loose circle. “It’s not that dramatic,” he explains.

“Oh, no, it really is,” I say, letting my eyes go wide with mock-seriousness. “I was trying to find my room yesterday and I ended up on the boys’ side of the dorm.”

Landon laughs. “Classic. Happened to me on my first day, too.”

“Well,” Silas says, his amber eyes settling on me, that knowing half-smile still on his face. “I’m glad you found your room. Eventually, anyway.”

Hazel sighs contentedly. “See? This is what I like: when the introductions have already been made.”

“Actually,” Silas replies, his eyes still on me, “I don’t think I ever got your name.” His tone is calm, not revealing much, and I wonder if anyone’s ever been able to avoid answering a question from him. The combination of curiosity and faint amusement in his voice is enough to make me want to start talking and never stop.

I feel a faint burst of color come to my cheeks under his thoughtful gaze, and I bite my lip. “Millie,” I reply. “Millie Brix.”

What looks like a faint flicker of recognition passes over Silas’ face, and I see his eyes narrow for a moment, but his expression remains pleasant. “It’s good to meet you properly, Millie Brix,” Silas says, holding a hand out to me, and I take it and give it a gentle shake. For a moment, our eyes meet, and there’s something in his expression that I can’t identify. A brief surge of electricity runs up my arm, but the contact is broken before it can distract me too much. “I have to admit, though,” he continues, “your reputation kind of precedes you.”

My eyes widen. “Really?”

Silas laughs. “Don’t look so freaked out. I just mean I heard there was a hybrid starting here. I just didn’t realize we’d met already.”

Hybrid. There’s that word again. I guess it’s as good a term as any for what I am, and he isn’t using it with the same disdain that Amelia did, so I nod, replying, “Not everyone here seems okay with that. The hybrid thing, I mean.”

“I don’t think anyone here actually thought hybrids were real,” muses Hazel. “You’re rare, Millie. Like a unicorn.” Her eyes go wide, and I have to chuckle at the seriousness of her expression.

“I mean, we’ve all heard the stories,” elaborates Silas, “but I don’t think anyone thought they were true, you know?”

“I would be curious to know how it happened,” Hazel remarks, looking at me. “Was it a ritual or something, like back in the olden days? Or did you just hit the gene jackpot?”

“I’d be curious, too,” says Landon, but Silas remains silent, not meeting my eyes. Once again, that unreadable look passes over his face.

For a moment, no one speaks, all of us just looking at one another. I clear my throat. “Well, you guys have certainly been a lot more… accommodating than some of the other people I’ve met so far.”

Hazel’s eyes go wide. “What do you mean?”

I sigh, tugging a piece of grass out of the ground. “There was this girl in my vampire shifting class,” I reply. “She seemed to have a problem with me. She showed up late and she just… started going after me.”

“Well, who was she?” asks Landon. “Although now that I think about it, that’s about par for the course for vampires.”

“I think her name was Amelia,” I reply, frowning. “Amelia Ash.”

“Amelia Ash?” Hazel asks with clear suspicion in her eyes. “But she’s an upperclassman--one of the best shifters in the school, from what I’ve heard. What would she be doing in