Fire Under My Feet

fire under my feet

T he next morning is, as predicted, utter bullshit. My email crashes every couple of hours because I’m receiving so many missives from parents, alumni, staff, and, of course, the authorities. If I had a fucking assistant, I’d fob some of the less pertinent shit off, but after my placement here, much of Magnus’ ex-biddies quit. I wasn’t shocked or upset by that development until now. I’m buried by this incident, and I have more than enough on my plate. When my computer reboots itself— again —at noon, I avoid throwing the damn thing across the room by pushing to my feet and walking away from the desk.

I need to address this situation now before I lose my composure.

A touch of my amulet allows my wings to burst free, and I step onto the balcony again. Looking at the poorly designed app, I find the public relations office tucked in a side building close to my coffee shop. That makes me smile and I swipe to the text screen quickly.

Morgana LeCiel: Channing, I need to speak with you about something of utmost importance. Are you able to meet me at The Beanery in five?

Channing:…

Channing: Yes, I believe so. Let me move a few things around and I can meet you there, Dean. May I ask what this is regarding?

Morgana LeCiel: No. I’d prefer to speak in person. I’ll see you there.

Smiling to myself, I realize the nervous elemental is probably convinced I’m firing her for something she did the other night. That wasn’t my intent in refusing to give her info over text, though. I have no idea what kind of snooping shit the board had the IT department install on the university phones and though I’m using one of my own with plenty of protection against intrusion; she is not. I don’t want anyone getting a whiff of what I’m planning before I set the wheels in motion. Keeping my council is the only way I’m going to achieve the lofty ass goals they set for me without interference.

I tuck my phone in the inside pocket of my suit coat and jump onto the stone railing. With a leap, I catch a slight current and glide upward into a slipstream. The campus looks idyllic from above; I’ll give them that. The well-kept grounds, fully restored buildings, and shiny new facilities at the edges make it seem like the perfect place to send your young shifter or magic user, especially if you want them to learn to fit into an elite society mold. Unfortunately, I’m assigned to uncover the source of evil at State U, buried deep within. I’m going to peel all the layers of gentility, politeness, and polish away so I can figure out what Magnus buried under the surface.

That’s going to piss more than a few people off and might even put a bigger target on my back than killing the sleazy lizard did.

When the Beauregard Fine Arts building comes into view, I angle my wings back to descend to the ground at a gentle speed. My feet touch the ground and I steady myself as my wings disappear into my back. I’d prefer not to answer questions about my supe sides if possible and hiding the wings is a good way to discourage the conversation.

Walking to the cafe, I pull open the door and notice that Slade is here again. I assume he’s doing this as part of a work study, but I suddenly feel compelled to check into that when I get back to my office. I’m not sure why, but I want to know more about the pretty barista. He turns and gives me a brilliant smile, the expression gentle and sweet in opposition to the naughty arrogance of Lucas.

Why am I thinking about him? I need to get laid, that’s why.

By the time Magnus’ treachery was revealed, an ocean had separated us for months. His visits grew sparse once I accepted his proposal—the excuse was always working, and I was stupid enough to believe him. Of course, I had lots of nightstand options for gratification, but I missed the warmth of a live person. Those weren’t available while I awaited trial after I hunted him down and I didn’t have the privacy to help myself.

That can easily change now that I’m imprisoned in Dixieland. I’ll dig out all of my toys. Maybe it will help me keep my mind off lithe, lovely music students and muscled hockey gods with wicked smirks. I bite my lower lip, grinning as I promise myself mentally to indulge in self-care tonight. I deserve it, after all.

“What’s making you look so giddy?”

Slade’s voice brings me out of my mental smutfest and I feel the color rise in my cheeks as I find my tongue. “Coffee always makes me look happy. I’m a caffeine junkie.”

His brow arches disbelievingly, but he humors me. “Luckily, I’ve got plenty of that. Snack or sandwich, your choice?”

I’m pondering that when the bell on the door chimes and Channing comes bustling in. She looks much less harried today, and I’m pleased to see she brought a laptop with her. I enjoy knowing she came prepared to either be fired or put to work. It makes me think I’ve made an excellent decision to contact her to meet.

“Dean LeCiel, I’m sorry I ran a little behind,” she says as she joins me at the counter. “Hello, Slade. How are you?”

The adorable grad student nods and pours a mug of black coffee, I assume is for her. “Afternoon, Channing. I just asked Morgana if she’d like pastry or food this afternoon. Do you want your usual?”

They both look at me expectantly, and I fold. “Okay, fine. I should eat. Load me up with a club sandwich and one of those big cookies, Slade.”

Channing beams. “Fruit salad and a chicken salad croissant for me.”

Once we have our coffee, we head to the table by the window while Slade works on our order. I settle in with my back to the wall—I’m not fond of having people behind me since the Council hunters used that to corner me. Channing sips her brew with a happy sigh before she sits her laptop on the table.

“May I ask why now, ma’am?”

I take pity on her, though my instinct is to wait until the food is done. “Yes. First, I wanted to thank you for your efficient and thorough work at the rink. You made it easy for me to accompany one of our students and deal with a potential PR mess without worrying that another one would be waiting when I returned.”

Her face turns bright red, and she fiddles with her chignon, not meeting my eyes. “Oh! Well, I appreciate that. I tried to make sure I covered all the bases so you wouldn’t have more work.”

“Considering your grace under pressure, I have a proposal for you,” I continue as Slade walks up and sits the plates down. “I’d like to transfer you.”

Channing blinks, looking worried. “T-Transfer? I mean, I just got promoted and I don’t think the department head is leaving, so…”

“Not within your department.” I shake my head, grinning. “I would like to offer you the position of Executive Assistant to the Dean.”

Her jaw drops, and she blinks at me wordlessly.

“Before you tell me that doesn’t sound like a promotion, I assure you, it is. Since my ex’s departure, the admin pool in the office is thin. You would report directly to me, oversee the few staff we have currently, and if we need to allocate more resources, you would hire them.”

Channing still doesn’t speak.

However, our bean slinging friend looks at her with excitement. “I bet it comes with a raise, Chan! And you hate the people in PR.”

“Thanks for ruining my bargaining leverage, Slade,” she snaps. Her features soften immediately and she gives him a fond expression. “Slade and I were here as undergrads. I went to work, and he stayed in school forever like an over-educated Peter Pan.”

Were they…?

Before I can ask, he cuts in. “Channing liked to hang out with my roommate and I—we had a standing board game night with a few other students.”

“Oh,” I say, not sure why it makes me happy to hear they weren’t involved. The roommate bit was a little dodgy, though, and I’m not sure if he’s being discreet or not. “That sounds fun. I’m more of a card player myself, but I enjoy strategy.”

The bell dings again and we all turn to see a handsome bearded man in an expensive suit walk in. His eyes dance as he looks at Slade and I squint, trying to remember where I might have seen this dude before. He seems very familiar and certainly older than a student—he must be a staff member. Channing catches my gaze as I turn back, her eyes sliding to the man in warning.

Interesting…

“We should organize a group game then, Slade,” the stranger says as he approaches. “I’d love to host the Dean in our humble abode.”

“Iggy, I don’t think that’s…”

“Maybe that’s not a good…”

Channing and Slade speak almost simultaneously and if that wasn’t a signal to be cautious, I don’t know what is. They both know the professor who joined us and they don’t dislike him, but they must suspect his motives. It’s excellent information to have because I doubt they’d be this friendly if he was one of Magnus’ acolytes, but demurring tells me they know he’s got a less-than-generous reason for his offer. When I glance at Slade, his cheeks have flushed and a delicate sniff tells me he’s very much attracted to this man. I need more information on this situation and though I can pump Channing later, I also want to observe the potential enemy in a less formal setting.

“I think it’s a marvelous idea.” I smile coolly at all of them, making certain my true intent isn’t reflected in my expression or my eyes. “I’m growing weary of spending my nights working alone. A small gathering would be most welcome, Prof…?”

“Ignatius Briarton, but my friends called me Iggy. You probably haven’t gotten to the Wizardry in fact, I’m certain every bit is downright disastrous.

“Lucas, what made you think sneaking into my office in a secret tunnel would make me happy?”

His grin widens as he stalks across the room like a feline, not a bear shifter. “The part where I’m going to take you to dinner tonight to thank you for protecting me.”

For the love of Hera’s screeching peacocks…

“Unnecessary. Besides, I had lunch with Channing recently and I won’t be hungry until much later. I’m going to make myself something simple when I get home. My workload is too heavy for frequent breaks.”

The hockey player shakes his head and comes to a stop inches from me. With my heels off, I’m still not much shorter than him. His eyes are warm as he looks down at me in amusement. “I can cook, you know. My Nana taught me. Nothing fancy, of course, but it’ll taste good and I assure you I can bribe someone to get into your house before you arrive home. You might as well consent now and we’ll save a lot of time.”

I rub my fingers between my brows, then pinch the bridge of my nose. He’s basically telling me he won’t take ‘no’ for an answer and if I get this over with, he might get over his mini obsession with me. “Even if I don’t get home until like nine or ten? You won’t mind then?”

“Scout’s honor,” he says, holding up two fingers in a salute. “Any allergies? Dietary concerns? Plain dislikes?”

“Pushy ass young dudes who won’t listen,” I mutter as I step back, needing to put distance between me and the heat emanating from his frame.

His hand catches my wrist and he tsks. “Oh, I know that isn’t true, Morgana. Now be serious. I’d hate to ruin the evening by making you hurl on my shoes.”

Rolling my eyes, I sigh. “Fine. Shellfish and pistachios are no-nos and I prefer red meat to pork or chicken. Is that good enough?”

Leaning in, he brushes his lips against mine so lightly I think I imagine it until he whispers, “That’ll do me.”

The temptation is too great, and I rest my palms on his chest before pushing him away. “I appreciate your offering to compromise. However, I must return to work.”

Lucas pouts, but his eyes betray his actual feelings. “If you say so, ma’am. But when you get home to my amazing meal, that’s when work ends. Understood?”

I blink, tilting my head as I consider my answer. ‘Normal’ Morgana wants to tell him to get fucked, but ‘weirdly attracted to a bratty alpha cub’ Morgana doesn’t want that at all. I feel split in two and not in a good way. So I settle for neutral. “I’ll do my best. I can’t predict emergencies, but I won’t actively get distracted if possible.”

“Good girl,” he says as he kisses my cheek.

A snort escapes before I can stop it. “Oh, you’re barking up the wrong tree with that.”

Shrugging, he winks at me. “We’ll see.”

“What if I don’t think you’ve been a good boy?”

He turns and heads for the door, looking over his shoulder before he reaches for the knob. “I’d expect you to do something about it—depending on who wins, of course.”

My face turns bright red and I’m very glad when he gives me his back again. “Who wins what?”

“The struggle for power, of course. Unclear at the moment, but sounds like a helluva good time.” He opens the door and then pauses again. “And lock that damn passage. It’s not safe to leave yourself exposed like that.”

No shit, Sherlock—I would have done that if I’d known it existed.

Now I get to wonder what other hiding places Magnus had installed in this office, or worse, the house I’m living in.

Great. There goes the idea of sleep for the next week.