Page 48 of Vicious Kings
CAELYX
The classroom door shuts behind me, and I have to force myself not to look back. The little hunter's scent clings to my clothes like smoke from a fire I shouldn't have started. She smells like honey and cinnamon, a combination so sweet it makes my fangs ache with the need to sink into soft flesh.
Fucking fascinating.
I stride down the hallway, letting the other students scatter out of my way. They always do. The Seelie see the red in my eyes and remember what my mother was. The shifters and vampires catch the perfect symmetry of my features and know I'm not one of them either. Half-breed. Mongrel. Neither court's prince, just Corvinus's inconvenient brother who should have been drowned at birth.
They aren't wrong, but they'll pay for the oversight one day regardless.
My fingers still tingle where they brushed against hers when I handed her those papers. Such a small touch, barely anything, but it sent electricity racing up my arm like I'd grabbed a live wire. The way she'd looked at me, not with the simpering adoration most omegas perfect by the time they attend finishingschool, but with violence. Like she was estimating exactly how many seconds it would take to gut me with the nearest sharp implement she could find.
Beautiful.
I've been watching her since the moment she set foot on campus, chin up despite the whispers following her. The way she moves screams predator trying to play prey. Even during her little confrontation with the other omegas in the cafeteria. Every gesture was too controlled, every reaction a fraction of a second too slow, like she was consciously reining herself in.
When that insipid little creature tried to corner her, I saw it. The shift in Billie's stance, the way her weight redistributed to the balls of her feet. Ready to strike. Ready tokill. Then she'd caught herself, forced her muscles to relax, played the confused little omega who didn't know any better.
ButIknow better. One predator always recognizes another.
The Seelie are fucking idiots if they think a hunter can be neutralized just because she happens to smell like sex and submission. They see the collar, the omega pheromones, the pretty face, and think the little cobra has been defanged. As if decades of training to kill creatures like us could be erased by a twist of biology.
After all, the smallest snake is always the deadliest.
My dear brother would probably welcome her with open arms, convinced that nature had sorted everything out. Corvinus always was too trusting, too willing to believe in the natural order of things. It's why he'll make such a terrible king. And why his head will look so much better when it's separated from his shoulders.
The thought brings a smile to my lips that has a passing sprite literally flying into a wall to avoid me.
But the little hunter... Billie. She's not here by accident. Hunters don't do anything by accident. They're raised from birthto be weapons, and weapons don't just decide to enroll in omega finishing school. She's here for a reason, and the fact that she's trying so hard to hide it makes me want to peel back her skin and see what's underneath.
Metaphorically speaking. Mostly.
I turn down a less-traveled corridor, one that winds through the older parts of the university where the walls still remember when this place was a fortress, not a school. My footsteps echo off stone that's tasted more blood than most battlefields. This is where I can think without the constant assault of giggling omegas and posturing alphas.
She's probably in her next class by now, sitting there pretending to give a shit about whatever drivel they're teaching. I saw her eyeing a letter opener on the professor's desk in class, the way her fingers had twitched toward it before she caught herself. Such discipline. Such control.
I want to shatter it. Want to see what happens when the huntress snaps.
The possessiveness that thought brings is... unexpected. I don't get possessive over omegas. They're usually about as interesting to me as the furniture they drape themselves over. Pretty, functional, ultimately replaceable. But this one...
This one looked at me like she was deciding where to stick the knife.
I wonder what she's really here for. The obvious answer would be Corvinus—he did slaughter his way through enough hunter clans during the war. The motive is easy enough to ascertain and it's plausible enough he killed a blood relation. Or a lover.
But would they really send an omega to assassinate him?
I pause at a window overlooking the training grounds where a handful of students are practicing combat magic. Sloppy. Predictable. Any half-trained hunter could take them apartwithout breaking a sweat. And Billie... oh, she's not half-trained. I could tell that with one look.
The other omegas have noticed too, in their vicious little way. They're smarter than the alphas in that regard. Already singling her out, marking her as different, dangerous to their carefully crafted hierarchies. That scene in the garden with Isabella Larue had been particularly entertaining. The little hunter hadn't backed down an inch, even faced with the omega who rules this place like a queen holding court.
"Stay away from the Golden Triad," Isabella had said, and I'd nearly laughed out loud from my vantage point in the shadows. As if warning Billie off would do anything.
Not that I care if she kills him. Would save me the trouble, really. Though I'd be disappointed to miss out on the satisfaction of watching the light leave his eyes myself.
But she's mine to watch. Mine to?—
"You're supposed to be at sparring practice."
The voice cuts through my thoughts. I don't turn, don't give him the satisfaction of seeing he's startled me. Instead, I watch his reflection in the window as Professor Locke Drakiss approaches with that confident stride that says he thinks he owns every piece of ground his feet touch.
