Chapter 5: Briar

brIAR

"Where do you wanna sit?" Rory asks as we enter the dining hall.

Lockwood Hall looks like something out of a fantasy novel. Its cathedral ceiling soars overhead, and dark wood hammer beam trusses frame the tall ceiling.

Stained glass windows sit between the beams. The windows depict various trees, shrubs, flowers, and other plants. The biggest window at the back of the hall has one wolf in the foreground, with three other wolves fanned out behind the first one. They're in a pine forest. Among the grass are blue and purple wolfsbane flowers.

What an odd choice of flower to put next to wolves.

Old-world-looking chandeliers hang from the ceiling every dozen feet. Walnut wood paneling runs up the walls to the support beams, and the dark floors match the long wooden banquet tables and chairs spaced evenly throughout the hall. Most of the tables are full.

Spying smaller tables on the sides of the hall, I point those out to Rory. "Perfect!" Clapping her hands, she leads us over to an empty side table.

"I'm surprised she listened to you. Ror will ask my opinion, only to choose the one I didn't pick." It's the most I've heard Ronan say at once the whole morning. His smooth, melodic voice fits his elven features.

"I don't do that!" Rory rounds on her brother in mock outrage. Placing her hands on her hips, she tries to appear threatening. The hint of a smile coming through ruins the effect.

"You definitely do." Ronan's grinning as he teases Rory. Even though they're twins, Ronan towers over his sister. He's at least six foot, while I'd be surprised if Rory even clears five foot four. Without their similar coloring, it'd be hard to tell they're twins.

"Okay, fine. But it's only 'cause you always choose the wrong one." After playfully sticking out her tongue, Rory turns back to our table. She slaps her pink bag on the table and plops down into one of the open spots.

Following her lead, I sit on the hard wooden chair next to her. I begin pulling out my lunch. I packed a turkey sandwich, apple, and bottle of water. My stepfather can be strict about food, so I make sure never to take too much.

"That's all you're having?" Rory asks, eyeing my plain lunch with pursed lips. At my nod, she continues, "Well, we're gonna check out the buffet. I hear it's outta this world."

WHU is supposed to have some pretty great food. Its privileged students won't accept anything less. I can see three tables full of food at the back of the hall. That's not counting all the made-to-order options students can choose.

Since I don't live in the dorms, I don't have a meal plan. I have four years of bland bagged lunches to look forward to.

Yay.

I'm just finishing my sandwich when Rory and Ronan make their way back to the table. Their trays are piled high with multiple hot entrée options, fruits, veggies, and desserts. My mouth waters a little looking at the spread.

"I accidentally got too much. So, you'll just have to share mine!" Rory shoves a plate of chicken fried steak, gravy, green beans, and mashed potatoes my way. She also places a huge slice of chocolate cake in front of me.

I bite my lip as I look at the spread, trying to figure out what to do. We both know she didn't accidentally grab too much. She took one look at my pathetic lunch and decided to do something about it. Her kindness makes my throat close up and my chest ache. It's been so long since anyone cared if I had basic necessities.

I want to refuse the food. She has to pay per item, so this doubled her lunch bill. But I'm so hungry from missing breakfast today and dinner last night. Decision made by my growling stomach, I mumble a thank-you and tuck into the delicious food.

Rory beams at my easy acceptance before turning to her lunch. She absolutely devours her plate. I'm impressed and mildly terrified by her ability to pack away so much food. Not like I'm one to judge, though. I've always had to eat as much as someone twice my size just to maintain my weight.

The rest of lunch passes in a blur of sibling bickering and laughter. By the time we finish eating, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much at Rory and Ronan's interactions.

I don't share my next class with either of them, so we part ways. Rory promises to call me. What for? I have no idea. She seems happy about it, though.

Heading back to Wyldhart Hall, I pull out my schedule. My next class is Latin 101 with Professor Grimm. That must be the third brother Rory mentioned—Kai, if I remember correctly.

Passing under the grand archway leading into the building, I make my way up the stone staircase to the second floor. Latin 101 is in the room directly across from where I had Western Civ.

Feeling better prepared to encounter another Grimm brother, I heave the solid oak door open. Instead of another blond god as I expected, the professor at the front of the classroom looks like a fallen angel. His black hair is almost as dark as mine. It's close-cropped, with just enough length that I could run my fingers through it. Thanks to his golden tan skin, his hair doesn't contrast as sharply as mine. He's taller than his brothers by a couple inches.

This professor is also a bit older. I'd put him in his late twenties, early thirties.

Like the other Grimms, the professor has a strong, angular jaw. He has the same broad shoulders and trim waist. Although he's wearing a black suit coat, it's clear he's muscular. His navy blue dress shirt strains across his broad chest, hinting at defined pecs. Black suit pants, tie, and oxfords complete his outfit. He definitely dresses the most formally of the three.

My gaze makes it back up to his face, where I'm met with dark, almost black, sapphire eyes. While locked in his stare, I idly note that his eyes match Ronan's and Rory's.

I feel like a fly caught in honey with how I'm unable to look away.

A hard shoulder jamming into my back breaks me free of his gaze. I bite back my cry of pain and swiftly move out of the way. I didn't realize I blocked the doorway until the boy currently scowling at me crashed into me. With a dirty look, he continues toward the back row.

Wondering what it is about these professors that makes me act like an idiot, I make my way to the second row. My preferred seat against the wall is free. I slide into it with a low exhale, thankful I won't be surrounded by strangers on all sides, especially after getting jostled by that guy earlier.

Hearing a growly, commanding voice, I snap my eyes up to the front of the classroom.

Professor Malachi Grimm starts introducing himself. His arresting midnight eyes are trained on me as he speaks. He launches into an intro to Latin. We're going to learn about the history of Rome, as well as the Latin language.

I've always been fascinated by Roman history, so I'm excited about this class. It won't be as boring as I thought.

The whole time he's speaking, Malachi Grimm stares intently at me. He finally breaks eye contact at the end of the hour to write our assignment on the board.

While everyone else scrambles to leave, I stay in my chair. I slowly pack up my things as I wait for the room to empty. Talking about needing accommodations is embarrassing enough without the whole class hearing it. As the last student leaves, I realize I can't put off talking to the professor any longer. I have my advisor meeting in half an hour, so I need to get this wrapped up quickly.

Fortifying myself with a calming breath, I make my way to the front of the classroom.

Professor Malachi Grimm waits for me, leaning slightly on his desk. His deep blue eyes track me the whole way. "Is there something you need, Miss…?" His voice sounds like a low growl. The rough, gravelly sound of it makes me shiver unconsciously. With an expectant gaze, he peers down at me.

I tell him my name and give him the same speech I gave his brothers. You'd think it would be easier the third time. It's not any better. Giving the speech is just as nerve-racking as it was this morning.

"You can record my lectures. Since participation is a large portion of your grade, I'll need to get back to you on alternative assignments." I nod as he finishes, ready to be done with asking for accommodations.

I turn to go.

When his hand snakes out toward my wrist, I flinch, instinctively recoiling at his sudden movement. My body curls around itself in protection from a blow I realize too late isn't coming.

Oh God. I flinched.

Closing my eyes, I pray to a god I don't believe in that he missed my reaction. That he didn't notice how I cowered from his sudden movement. That he thinks it's normal to flinch at a man's hand moving quickly toward me.

I know I'm not that lucky when he calls out to me softly. "Briar…" he begins, like he isn't sure what to say.

I don't think. I just run, needing to get out of here before he asks questions I can't answer.

I make it to the door and start to pull it open when a large hand slams into the wood near my head. He forces the door closed. Resting my forehead against the smooth wood, I'm unable to face him. He's standing so close that I can feel his body heat radiating off him and his warm breath tickling my neck.

"Turn around, Briar," Malachi Grimm orders softly.

Briefly, I debate ignoring him, but I know he won't let this go. I turn around.

He backs up slightly to allow me to face him. Then, he crowds closer and rests both of his giant palms near my head. Leaning toward me, he locks eyes with me. "I would never hurt a woman. I will never lay my hands on you in anger, Briar."

His gravelly voice is sincere, but he sees too much. "That's not—" I try to protest. He silences me with a look. I swallow convulsively as I realize he's not going to buy my weak excuses.

"Another thing you need to know about me, I don't tolerate liars. Don't fucking lie to me, Briar. You won't like the consequences." His voice is soft but has a dangerous edge.

His threat—or promise—doesn't scare me like it probably should. Instead, I'm curious what the consequences are. Something in me wants to push this carefully controlled man until he loses control.

"Nod if you understand." Malachi Grimm thrives on giving orders. I'm not sure he knows how to ask someone to do something. He just demands.

Wanting this conversation to be over, I nod.

His eyes flicker between mine a few times before he continues. "I apologize for earlier. I shouldn't have grabbed you. That was unprofessional, and it won't happen again. I wanted to let you know I'm your advisor. No need to rush off because we're scheduled to meet after this."

Christ on a bike.

He's my advisor?

Awesome.

Of course, I flinch in front of the professor I'll spend the most time with. WHU assigns students one advisor for their entire time here. I'll have to meet with him regularly, even when I'm not in his class.

Wanting to crawl into a hole and disappear, I close my eyes. How long can I avoid his questions about why I flinch at sudden movements? I know with certainty it won't be four years.

Suddenly, I feel exhausted. Exhausted with today. Exhausted with lying. Exhausted with hiding. I sag against the door, as I feel weighed down by everything I need to do to survive.

"Look at me, Briar." Too spent to do anything but comply, I open my tired eyes to connect with his.

His brow dips, and lines appear around his downturned mouth as he takes in my defeated gaze. I startle as he gently rubs his thumb against my cheekbone. I lean into his gentle touch before I realize what I'm doing. Straightening back up, I feel my cheeks heat at my reaction to his strangely intimate gesture.

"I need to gather my things here. Why don't you go ahead to my office while I pack up? It's room 307." He seems to sense I need a moment alone to compose myself.

I need more than a few moments to build my armor back up, but I'll take what I can get. As soon as he steps back, I turn and flee out the door.