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Grumbling, he waves his hand, granting me permission. Wasting no time, I move around him and grab my throwing stars, which are safely clasped in their sheath, and my old dingy dagger as well. I’m careful not to give him my back while I strap them to either thigh, all too aware of what happens when I do. Too bad the bargain prevents me from driving my blade into his eye socket. It’s a strange thing to have as much weapons training as I do but be completely unable to use them to hurt the man who deserves it most.

I straighten to find him blocking my way. Nothing is ever easy with him.

Mr. Peters was never a handsome man. His nose is crooked from too many bar fights, his black hair slicked back with enough grease that I have to hold my breath as he steps closer. “What, no kiss goodbye for your guardian?”

Disgust burns through me. One day I’ll rip his intestines out of his abdomen. “I forgot something in the car,” I lie, rushing around him and reaching into the vehicle, breathing deep and slow as my heart hammers in my chest. My vision wavers, trembling at the edges. For a moment, everything goes blurry, like my sight has suddenly become as bad as a nearsighted human’s. Heat scalds my veins. If rage were a power, I’d have plenty of it.

{One day.}

I suck in a breath of surprise at the voice in my head. It’s been there for as long as I can remember, and I still haven’t gotten used to it. At first, I thought it was my sister, but then it never came when I called her name. Maybe it’s my magic? Another thing the university might be able to help me figure out.

“Stop fucking around, I’ve got places to be,” Mr. Peters gruffs, hand falling onto my shoulder, fingers digging into the same spot where the bone was broken in the fight he’d entered me into two nights ago. I’d won, though not without injuries, and while they mended quickly, new bruises bloom in almost the exact same spot under his touch.

Can’t let me go without one more reminder of who’s in charge.

He practically throws me away from the car. I stumble straight into someone, who crashes to the ground, things clattering across the pavement, but Mr. Peters doesn’t apologize or care. My fingers curl into fists, and I take a step toward him, but the invisible band around my wrist activates, scalding me in warning. I hiss in pain. It feels like my skin is melting, but when I glance at my forearm, there are no visible signs of the band. Mr. Peters’s will be activated as well, meaning he and I are the only ones who know that I’m close to breaking the mage bargain.

He smirks, loving to put me in my place, and climbs into the car before tearing away from the curb. His tires squeal and kick up rocks, and I throw my hand up to shield my face from flying pebbles.

Asshole.

The only good thing about his departure is that the burning in my arm subsides.

“No, no, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

A heavy huff has me spinning around. A guy with black-rimmed glasses is on the ground, his belongings all over the place.

“Shit, sorry.” I drop to my knees to help him gather his things.

The guy watches me, a pinch between his brows. I study him right back, noting his eyes. Brown. Simple. Normal. Or, at least, that’s how they appear, but with a closer look, I spot the deep shade of vermillion outlining his irises. He’s a vampire.

“Uh, can I have my notebook?” He gestures to the thing I’m holding.

“Sorry. You have really pretty vampire rings,” I tell him.

The guy’s dark brown complexion flushes, and he yanks the notebook from my hand. “My boyfriend says so too.”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t hitting on you,” I say quickly. “You’re definitely not my type. Sorry, that didn’t come out right, but you know some people like lithe and lean and others like . . . girthy?”

“Girthy?” His eyebrows hit his hairline.

“That’s not what I meant. I just—” I clamp my mouth shut. Fuck. Not even two minutes here, and I’m already offending people. Maybe I’m more like my guardian than I realized.

The guy takes pity on me with a soft smile as the mid-August sun beats down on us. “Maybe if I were girthy, you wouldn’t have knocked me on my ass.”

“I don’t know,” I muse. “I’ve been known to knock some big guys down.” But that’s another story for another day. I grab the dark green toothbrush holder, the last of the mess, and thrust it toward him. “Here.”

“Thanks. I told my partner I didn’t need so much stuff, but he insisted.” He pushes his glasses up his nose, catching sight of my weapons without so much as a flinch. It’s not uncommon for paranorms to come prepared to fight. He glances at the small pack beside me. It’s practically empty compared to his. “Uh… Where are your things?”

“This is all I need.” It’s all I had. Though, no one here needs to know the truth. Not about that, and definitely not about my complete and utter lack of power. Mr. Peters wasn’t wrong. In a university where power ensures your survival, I’m pretty much dead on arrival.

Tipping his head, he scans me, the same way I had him. “Mage?”

“So it would seem,” I say with a self-deprecating laugh. There. That’s not exactly a lie, now is it?

He starts to say something else, but a bell tolls. The gong reverberates my bones. I flinch, then catch myself. I hate sudden loud noises.

The guy doesn’t seem to notice. “That’s the first warning,” he says, clambering to his feet. “You should hurry. If you’re not inside by the last bell⁠—”