Page 73 of Poet & Protector

“Yeah, yeah, that’s true.” Ansel seemed pacified. “Okay.”

His sunny mood returned. “So, I’ve been wanting to ask you, Nev, if you go anywhere to see live music, which city would you pick?”

“This again?” Mason groaned. “Ansel, I’m tired of talking about it.”

“That’s ’cause you’re tired of being wrong,” he replied. “The correct answer is Austin.”

Mason shook his head. “No way. Montreal. Hands down.”

Ansel looked at me expectantly.

“You’re both wrong,” I said.

“Both of us?” Ansel looked genuinely shocked.

“The answer is Minneapolis.” I smiled at him. “Home of First Avenue. I would kill to see shows there.”

“Purple Rain.” Mason nodded. “You’ve got a point. But Minnesota is so cold.”

“We live in Vail,” I said, a little incredulous. “On a mountain.”

“Sure,” he replied. “But it’s subzero in Minnesota. Like, colder than Siberia sometimes.”

“Mason.” I folded my arms across my chest. “This is an imaginary trip. Why am I going in the winter?”

“Because you’re a tortured artist who enjoys suffering?”

Ansel laughed and I was about to tell Mason what a smartass he was when my skin began to prickle. Mason and Ansel tensed as well. The rest of the Guardians around the table were suddenly alert. Something was off.

I turned in my seat and found our two alphas staring down a human student who stood a few feet away. I’d never seen him before and it was strange that any human would even wander into the vicinity of our tables. They usually had an innate sense that we were predators and they were prey.

This guy not only was staring back at Calla, but he appeared reluctant to walk away. I studied him, trying to pinpoint why he seemed so unusual, as if he were vibrating at a different frequency than the rest of the human world. It was odd. I’d never sensed anything like it before. He otherwise appeared normal, except for rating well above average in attractiveness. This was someone who would always turn heads: tall, an athletic build, light golden-brown hair, and tanned skin, like he spent a lot of time outdoors. Nothing strange about any of that, but there was something…

The other wolves took their cue from Ren and Calla, locking glares on the stranger. He pulled his gaze off Calla, noticing he was the target of hostile energy emanating from all of us. This was our territory. Humans weren’t welcome, hot or not, I mused, chuckling to myself. Though Ren might have something to say about that…Except even when he was dating a human girl, which was most of the time, they were never invited to our lunch table, or anywhere with us. He kept his romantic extracurricular activities strictly separated from the pack.

Whatever had drawn this new student toward us wasn’t strong enough to outweigh the clear warning sent by our packs. He turned away, looking for a safer place to eat his lunch. Everyone else went back to their conversations, but I kept my eyes on him as he walked away. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t the last time we’d see him.

Whoever he was.

Thirteen

The Mountain School

Monday, after lunch

MASON

I slammed my locker shut. Nev, Ansel, and I had gotten so caught up in our conversation about indie bands that I barely had time to grab my books and notes for my afternoon elective, Dramatic Literature and Performance: A Dramaturgical Approach. I loved the class and every meeting left me wishing Guardians were allow to participate in our school’s theater program.

I was only a few steps away from my locker when someone called my name and my stomach dropped. I recognized the voice but shut my eyes and made a wish that I was mistaken.

“Mason. Wait.”

No. No mistake.

I steeled myself and turned to face Logan Bane, Efron Bane’s son and heir, who approached with his usual disaffected saunter. If I knew nothing about him, I might have found him alluring. He was classically handsome, Fibonacci sequence symmetry and all that, with high cheek bones and a strong rectangular jaw. His golden hair was tousled in a way that signaled carelessness but was still perfect and his full, sculpted lips were usually twisted with derision. Logan was undeniably attractive, but his every feature conveyed reckless entitlement with a penchant for cruelty.

Today he wore an outfit typical of his ‘model on a day off’ persona. His t-shirt wasn’t sheer but had a slightly transparent look to it and was perfectly draped, highlighting the toned physique beneath the fabric. Designer jeans emphasized the narrow cut of his hips in contrast to the broad musculature of his shoulders, the proportional perfection demanded of a Keeper of Logan’s stature. His outfit doubtless cost the equivalent of a normal person’s monthly wages. Probably more.