Chapter 5

Nadia

Wolfless.

It was the same word Vincent had used earlier to describe me, but the way he had said it—voice clear, tone matter-of-fact—had made it seem like it was normal, not having a wolf spirit at eighteen. That it wasn’t truly a big deal, considering that I would gain one. Eventually.

But Kael…

He’d spat the word at me like an insult. A defective, despised label that he could tack onto my skin.

And despite myself, despite knowing better, the word burned across my nerves. Right alongside the other word that had haunted me my entire life:

Orphan.

Perhaps this was why my parents had abandoned me in the first place. Perhaps I’d been defective since birth: not a wolf, not a daughter. Maybe, without the wolf abilities, they hadn’t seen anything in me worth loving, and had decided to simply dump me at the orphanage.

What would that mean? That I didn’t belong with the humans and now, here, I didn’t belong either?

What did that leave me with?

Nothing.

It left me with nothing.

My eyes welled up, but I refused to cry. Not here. Not now.

I swallowed the lump buried in my throat, even as I turned back to the lingering crowd, their eyes still on me. A few of the werewolves laughed beneath their breath at the sight of me, at the red that I knew rimmed my eyes. At the flush on my cheeks and the shuttered release of my breath.

The urge to yell at them all bubbled at the back of my throat, but I knew that would do me no good. There’d be nothing but more laughter. More stares.

Staring was one thing I could never escape, it seemed.

Shrugging the strap of my bag farther onto my shoulder, I spared one last glance toward the man sat against the tree, still nursing his wounds, before stepping toward the group.

The crowd didn’t part for me the way they did for Kael. Not that I had expected them to.

I had to push my way through the throng of bodies back to the path and try to avoid a stray elbow to the gut. Voices grated against my skin, calling me a coward. A pathetic wolfless girl that stupidly dared to stand up to Kael.

They said I was doomed. Fucked.

I didn’t care what they thought, or what they said. I didn’t care about Kael and his weightless threats. I just needed to get out of here.

Making my way back toward the belltower, I rechecked the map and set off for the dormitories. There, I grabbed my luggage—all of it filled with whatever clothes and supplies Vincent had seen fit—from the office and knocked on the manager’s door.

“Enter,” a voice called.

Inside, a man sat behind the desk, scribbling into a journal. The office was lined with bookshelves, each stuffed with leather bound editions. The name plate on his desk read Don Ullege.

“Excuse me.” I cleared my throat. “Could you help me find my room?”

“Yes. Yes, of course…” Don glanced up, eyeing the luggage at my feet. “New student?” I nodded. “Name?”

“Nadia.”

The man’s pen stilled. His chin flicked back toward me, stare narrowing.

“Oh. Oh,” he muttered, dejected. “You’re the wolfless, aren’t ya?”

That word again.

I sucked on my teeth. “Apparently—”

“Room is upstairs at the end of the hallway.” He went back to his journal, pen scratching into paper. “Door should be open.”

Upstairs, two doors awaited me at the end of the hall. Seeing only one door half-open, I pushed my way into the room on the left.

The room wasn’t the stale, empty dorm I’d been imagining.

The bed was half-made, sheets tangled into the dark comforter. The walls were bare, but the wardrobe at the edge of the room was open, a spread of clothing spilling from its crowded belly.

I picked up a lone sweatshirt from the desk chair, the fabric red and worn, and rubbed the soft sleeve between my fingertips.

This could not be right. Someone obviously already lived here.

Scoffing, I dropped my luggage to the floor with a loud thud and went back downstairs.

“Excuse me,” I said, shoving myself back into the manager’s office. “I think there’s been a mistake.”

Don sighed. “With?”

“My dorm. There’s already someone living there. Their stuff—”

“No, no. Don’t worry about that.” He waved me off. “It’s probably leftover items from a previous student that should’ve been disposed of before your arrival. Feel free to get rid of it yourself.”

Splendid.

I took the boxes he offered me and went back upstairs. There was nothing organized about the way I packed, but eventually I managed to get everything shoved away. Abandoning the overflowing boxes in the hall outside my door, I began unpacking my own things.

It took me longer than expected. I’d never owned this much before in my life.

The wardrobe was now full of my very own clothes. New. The bed was covered in thick silky sheets, the quilt Vincent had picked out stretched out over them. He’d bought me a calendar, a stack of notebooks, and a pile of books I had no idea what to do with. For now, I tacked the calendar to the bare wall and stuck the books in the corner, one atop the other.

By the time I finished, the light had leaked out of the sky.

On the desk, the phone Vincent bought me lit up. Midnight.

A birthday message illuminated the screen, saying a gift would arrive soon.

Eighteen.

All at once, I felt the age in my bones. I’d never celebrated my birthday growing up. I hadn’t known when I was born. Or where.

But eighteen years ago, on this day, I’d been left on the orphanage steps.

So, as it turns out, I’d been abandoned the moment I’d entered this world.

Happy birthday to me.

“What is going on here?” a muffled voice growled outside the door. The knob twisted and in stormed Kael, glare skittering across the room, across my things, before landing on me. “What are you doing?”

“I—”

“Why are you in my room?”

His room?

Kael grunted in disbelief, shaking his head. “I told you, if you offended me a second time,” he said roughly, “you’re done.”

He forced his way deeper into the room, cornering me in a few single strides. My back hit the cold window, and pain shot up the base of my spine.

Large, calloused hands grabbed onto my collar. With a swift yank, Kael brought my face up to his, his scowl practically vibrating between us.

“I told you—”

Kael’s voice choked off. His fingers had slipped beneath the collar of my shirt, and his knuckles accidentally grazed the bare skin of my neck. A shiver rang through me, the press of his skin against mine sending a violent shock through my body.

The feeling lingered, even as we both froze, Kael releasing me as if I’d burnt him.

His face paled. Slowly, he leaned toward me and drew in a deep breath.

His head shook. Once, twice. Softly.

When he spoke, the word was barely more than a whisper.

“Mate?”