Ice In My Veins

ice in my veins

T he new dean is smoking hot even in her band tee and ripped jeans. She’s not afraid to be blunt, and she’s got an air of dominance that’s sassy enough to mean she’d be a fighter in the sack. I’m not worried about why she killed that crooked old lizard, nor that she’s older than me by several centuries. After this ends, I’ll find a way to get closer to her.

Chicks always dig the hot guy in sweaty sports gear, so it shouldn’t be too hard.

I stalk closer to her, grinning as I invade her space. To her credit, the dean doesn’t back down—she lets me walk right into her until we’re mere centimeters apart with a defiant look on her face. She’s taller than me, which never happens, but not by much. That puts her at about six foot six in heels and I enjoy having her almost at eye level in flat shoes. She doesn’t look breakable, like most of the girls I’ve dated in the past. Instead, she’s tall, broad shouldered, and solidly built. It’s refreshing, truthfully.

“Lucas, what the actual fuck are you doing? They’ll return shortly. Don’t be stupid,” Dean LeCiel snorts harshly.

Brushing a stray hair off her forehead gently, I arch a brow as I turn on the flirting. “What’s wrong, Morgana? Are you worried they’ll see how much you like me?”

“Oh, please. I am not a freshman ingenue and those cheesy lines won’t work on me.” Her eyes narrow and she looks like she’s struggling to decide if she should push me away or pull me closer. “And you do not have permission to call me by my given name.”

“But we’re going to be so close—I can feel it.” She rolls her eyes and lifts a hand as if to push my shoulder, but I catch it and press my lips to her palm.

The shocked look on her face makes me grin against her skin and she tries to yank it away. “Lucas, this is highly inappropriate! Let go of me.”

Shrugging, I nip the base of her thumb lightly. “I live for inappropriate, Morgana. How do you think I ended up in the penalty box so many times tonight? I play for keeps.”

“Dean, I have the—oh!” The PR woman comes stomping in and gasps when she sees us.

Goddamn it, of course, that frazzled, pint-sized elemental would walk in right now.

Morgana pulls away, giving me a sharp look of displeasure. “No worries, Channing. I was just explaining the college honor code and policies on sexual harassment when you came in. Clearly, he’s got a lot to learn about the phrase ‘no means no’ before he’s suitable for public appearances.”

Giving her an amused look, I step back and cross my arms over my chest. “I’ve never had to resort to questionable consent to get my bed warmed. I’ll be fine without the lecture, Dean.”

Her expression says she doesn’t like that, and it makes my inner bear preen a bit. I’m not sure if she’s going to need to be chased to give in, but the thought of it gets my motor running. I’m all in for a little primal hunting, especially if the media is right about her being part winged shifter. The chase is sweeter when they can match my pace.

“Bring the authorities in now, Channing. Lucas knows what he’s supposed to do and not do. He’ll behave .”

Oooh—or maybe I won’t, just to see what she’ll do.

As if she can sense my defiance, the dean turns her head and gives me another stern look. I simply smile and walk over to a bank of lockers away from the mess on the floor, leaning casually as we wait. When the bushy faced detective comes in with a group of squirrely looking science geeks that must be crime scene techs, I watch quietly. He eyes me up and down, frowning under the thick, bushy mustache that is woefully out of style or means he’s a walrus shifter.

“Are you the one who ‘discovered’ the body?” he barks as he approaches.

Backing up to keep the space between us, I nod. “I am. Coach sent me to the locker room to chill when I got my last penalty of the game.”

Morgana glares at me again—she expected me to say something to the tune of ‘lawyer’ and nothing else.

“A hothead, huh?” he murmurs as he scribbles something in a notepad. “Good to know. You came back alone and found this young man on the floor, but did not provide help?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“There are no signs he was turned to clear an airway or anyone tried to resuscitate him. The blood pool isn’t smeared!” The detective’s face reddens a little as he points to the victim.

“I’m not sure giving someone CPR would be prudent when their throat is hanging open like a sliced ham,” I reply coolly.

“Detective, I’m sure Lucas called for help as soon as he saw the situation. We can’t expect him to react like a medical or law enforcement professional, can we?” Morgana steps closer to the sweaty man, looking every bit as regal as she would wearing one of the trademark suits everyone talks about.

He whirls on her, getting in her face as he snarls, “I’ll thank you not to meddle in police affairs, Dean LeCiel. We’re all aware of your shortcomings surrounding murder.”

Nope. That’s not gonna work for me.

With the speed of my bear, I slide in between them, looking the pastrami-eating fool right in the eyes. “It’s downright rude to speak to a lady that way, especially when you’re spitting your deli dinner in her face. Apologize to the Dean and show her the respect her office commands—I won’t ask again.”

“Lucas, it’s fine. I?—”

“No, it’s not. This bearded clown is not only addressing the Council appointed Dean of State U, but a full-blooded Wolfberg as if we’re the crumbs on his jacket. It will horrify my grandmother to hear of this.” I look at him with a sly smirk as I continue, “Perhaps you’ve heard of Nana? Duchess Gretchen Madeline von Wolfenberg of the German Council is not someone I suggest trifling with.”

The detective turns white as a sheet and he backs away quickly, barking orders at the crime techs before he looks back at me. “The Dean will escort you to the precinct for further questioning. Do not be late.”

Morgana waits until he leaves to hiss at me, “Are fucking kidding me? Burying the lede that you’re related to the matriarch of the European bear clans is dirty, you little shit.”

“Morgana, if you find that dirty, I have a lot of work ahead of me.”

The ride to the station was quiet, though I could tell Morgana wanted to ask questions. Her gaze roamed over the interior of my 2014 Morgan Plus 8 Speedster curiously, but she didn’t comment. It was a gift from my Nana and I love it more than most people love their significant others. I’m only thirteen years older than this car, but the 1940s feel of it makes me happy. I’ve got a serious adoration of the Rat Pack, Vegas during the mob times, and hockey—not always in that order. I love riding around in a car that evokes the feel of jazz clubs and smoky bars rather than some tiny dick show-off Italian bullshit.

But I don’t tell her that; I let her wonder.

When we arrive downtown, I insist on pulling into a lot to escort her inside rather than drop her off, which she grouses about half-heartedly. I feel she’s spent a lot of time taking care of herself because of the unorthodox engagement she and Magnus had, and now she can’t relax enough to allow anyone to help. I don’t know if I’m game to work on changing that or looking for a quick, albeit hot AF, hop between the sheets. It’s too soon to say if I’m considering my ban on relationships that last past breakfast or if I’m just juicing on the instalust.

“Lucas, please do not run your mouth until your lawyer gets here. I’m sure you’re used to the spotlight and I don’t doubt you can handle yourself, but I don’t aspire to be the reason your grandmother goes on a rampage. I have enough problems with the Society and the Councils; don’t add to it because you’re being ornery,” Morgana says as she takes my hand to get out.

My lips quirk. Her plea is authentic and personal, so I might agree. “We’ll see. I assume the text I sent to my parents activated some legal eagle they have on retainer locally. It’d surprise me if whoever it is doesn’t actually beat me to the crusty detective’s desk.”

By the time we get to the entrance, I see my assumption was correct because a blond surfer looking dude in a Balenciaga suit is waiting for us outside. His teeth sparkle white in the lamplight and I hear Morgana suck in a breath behind me. She knows this guy and I can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing, so I block her halfway, just in case.

“Jackson Thorne! Of course, the Duchess would have Thorne Enterprises on their payroll in these parts.” Morgana pushes past me and sticks her hand out to shake.

The lawyer takes her hand, shaking it first, then turning it to lift to his lips and I swear to Odin, a fucking growl pops out of my lips. His head whips around and he gives me a knowing look. “It is my blessing and curse to be available to beautiful women who collect adorable young men with an inability to stay out of trouble. In fact, I was awake speaking to another such client who is currently overseas with her cadre of drooling boys.”

“Lucas is not someone I’ve collected, Jackson. He’s a student in trouble with very influential relatives who I’m ensuring gets appropriate representation, so they do not hold the school liable. You of all people should know I’m not out cherry picking lovers.” The dean bristles, striding up the stairs and leaving the two of us in her wake.

I turn to the well-known supe with an irritated expression. “So far, you suck at your job, dude.”

“Oh, I suck very well , but it’s not part of my job, young Wolfberg. Neither is helping you figure out how to crack that stony exterior, so let’s get inside and dispense with the nonsense of the local police. This may be a bigger city, but the law enforcement is no more competent than the yokels further out. They will try to blame you out of convenience and laziness. Let’s not give them the chance by standing out here bickering, eh?”

I don’t want to like this guy because he pissed off Morgana, but I kind of do.

“Understood.”

“I’m sure you’ve been told, but when I say it, I mean it. Keep. Your. Mouth. Shut. I will answer every question or allow you to give me answers privately before we address the issue. I will assert your right to remain silent and provide information at other times. Follow my lead and you can chase that lovely hybrid home instead of sleeping on a dirty cot tonight. Capiche ?”

“I’m not stupid,” I retort. I have visited a police station in the past.

“Not surprising, hot shot. Now button it until you’re given permission to speak.”

He turns, heading into the precinct with the air of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing and expects to accomplish it without a hitch. Grumbling under my breath, I follow him, hoping his confidence isn’t misplaced.

I didn’t kill that fucker, Pierre, but I’m not sad someone else did.

“Hopefully, that isn’t obvious,” I mumble to myself as we head into the lion’s den.

Thorne turns around and pins me with his gaze. “What isn’t obvious?”

I smile, batting my lashes as I make a motion, mimicking zipping my lips. He rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath as we catch up to Morgana. Her features are creased with concern as she looks at the lack of bodies working at this hour other than Detective Kaiser Roll and a small weasley looking fellow in the corner. This is nothing like I’d expect for a city of this size, but that virus hit everything in the human world hard. Unfortunately for me, unless the crime violates a Council or Society law, I’m stuck with the unevolved for the duration of this mess.

Hell, I’m lucky they even have a shifter detective on staff here.

Usually they don’t allow our kind to take these jobs, but with State U nearby, I suppose they needed someone to keep all the secrets. College kids aren’t known for good judgment and campus security can’t wrangle anyone who leaves the University to party in the clubs or bars. I doubt they thought this big goombah would tackle a murder case when they pushed him up the ladder, though, and that doesn’t bode well for me. Morgana and Thorne are right; this dude will close the book on this in a red hot minute if it means he gets to go back to taking a nap at his desk.

“Mr. Wolfberg,” the lout yells. “Follow me to interrogation.”

Jackson steps in front of me, giving the cop a blank expression. “I thought this was a non-custodial interview, Detective. Was I misinformed?”

The big guy runs his hand over his whisker and snorts. “It is. But I’d be more comfortable if your client gave his statement on camera. For the record, you see.”

“Ah. I see.” Jackson gives him a dark glare. “However, I’m unconcerned with your comfort. My client will speak with you at your desk, with the two of us present as witnesses, and only when I permit him to. You will not record or video the interview and if a written statement is required, I will prepare it with him and have it delivered to you tomorrow morning.”

Holy shit, this guy is good.

“Well, I, uh, you see, my Captain…”

Thorne pulls out his cell phone, scrolling through the contacts with a smile. “Which Captain? I have all of their personal numbers and the Council’s. Whom shall I call to approve my terms?”

I look over at Morgana, and she gives me a tiny smile. It appears she knew this guy was a superstar, and that’s why she didn’t stick around for his lecture before we came in.

I don’t think there’s a damn thing wrong with her judgment or her methods—she’s smart as a whip.