Chapter Four

Nathan

Nathan lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his fingers drumming restlessly against his chest.

The witch.

The one he’d seen in the window last night.

Even with her light off, his night vision had captured every detail—the curve of her cheek, the defiant tilt of her chin, the way her fingers had lingered on the curtain before yanking it shut.

He needed to find her.

It wasn’t just curiosity. It was something deeper, something primal. His wolf had howled the moment he caught her scent on the breeze, and now? Now it wouldn’t shut up.

Find her.

He groaned, rolling onto his side. This was ridiculous. He was the most disciplined wolf in his pack. He didn’t stalk people.

…Except he was absolutely going to. He was already planning how to get close to her.

Rita 

Rita adjusted the strap of her bag as she walked between Freda and Pru, the three of them weaving through the crowded halls.

"So, your magic," Rita pressed, nudging Pru. "You never finished explaining."

Pru grinned, twirling a beaded bracelet around her wrist. "I work with spirits. Ancestors, guides—sometimes even the not-so-friendly ones."

Rita’s eyebrows shot up. "Like… ghosts?"

"Mmm, more like echoes." Pru’s voice dropped to a whisper. "The dead leave imprints. I can read them. Sometimes, I can even borrow their knowledge."

"That’s incredible," Rita breathed.

Freda smirked. "And my magic—"

But before she could continue, they reached their classroom, and the door swung open to reveal their instructor—a vampire.

Tall, pale, and dressed in an immaculate suit, he looked like he’d stepped out of a Victorian painting.

"Good morning," he said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. "I am Professor Laurent. While I may not practice witchcraft, I have spent centuries studying its many forms. And so, you will learn from me."

Rita slid into a seat, pulling out her notebook—

And then he walked in.

The shorthaired wolf from last night.

He moved with deliberate calm, his shoulders tense as he scanned the room. When his eyes landed on her, something flickered in his gaze—something hungry.

Then, without a word, he took the empty seat beside her.

Rita’s pulse jumped.

He didn’t look at her. Didn’t speak. Just sat there, his jaw clenched like he was fighting himself.

She forced her attention back to the lecture, but the heat of his presence was impossible to ignore.

 

After class, Rita was halfway down the hall when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

She turned.

The wolf—Nathan—stood there, his dark eyes unreadable. Up close, he was even more striking, his sharp features softened only by the faintest hint of nerves.

"I, uh…" He cleared his throat. "I know you’re new. Just wanted to welcome you to Blackthorn."

Rita blinked. "Thank you, Nathan."

A beat of silence.

Then Pru, bless her, grabbed Rita’s arm. "We’re gonna be late!"

As they hurried away, Rita could still feel the ghost of his touch on her shoulder—a lingering warmth that didn’t fade for the rest of the day.