Chapter 11

I shoveled in my last bite, both eager and reluctant to leave. I was grateful for the silence that had settled between us. It gave me a chance to process the earth-shattering paralysis I'd experienced at first seeing Arya.

What the hell had that been? It was like a lightning bolt had shot straight through me, seizing every nerve in my body. I wanted to brush it off as mere surprise at finding the kitchen occupied, but nothing—shy of my father's disapproval—ever shook me so deeply.

Maybe it was just her beauty. She was, indeed, beautiful. That rebellious lock of blue hair amongst her black waves amplifying the cerulean of her eyes and complementing the creamy perfection of her skin. And her figure… Well, I tried very hard not to look too long at the delicate slope of her neck, at the mound of perky breasts hiding under her polo…

But I wasn't the type to be so bewitched by a pretty face, even if my stiffening cock had other ideas.

It wasn't just the traitorous appendage that responded to her. My whole body seemed to tingle with a strange kind of electricity, and the warmth in my chest was close to scalding.

A dangerous thought whispered in the back of my mind, but I rejected it. Such a thing couldn't be allowed to happen. Not to me. And especially not with her.

The silence dragged on, but it was a comfortable silence. Any other girl would've insisted on keeping the conversation going, on filling the air with noise. Clearly, Arya had more going for her than a pretty face and those piercing blue eyes I'd been doing my best to avoid the last several minutes.

"Is it true you were unaware of your nature until Caesar found you?" I asked finally, setting my fork down and pushing my plate away.

I didn't want to know anything more about her, didn't want to give into my burning curiosity, and definitely not my physical urges. But I had offered her friendship—like an idiot. I could hardly fault myself for that, though. What kind of asshole wouldn't come to the aid of such a broken, beautiful creature? I wasn't completely immune to my humanity.

Arya's eyebrows furrowed for a split second before she shrugged. "My mom had these crazy rules. I wasn't allowed out after dark, I couldn't go swimming, and social media was completely banned. I'm not sure how they're all connected, but I'm convinced there was no way I could've figured it out myself." She laughed once. It was a sad sort of laugh.

It surprised me that she didn't seem to have any animosity toward her mother for having such strict boundaries. Especially ones that prevented much of a social life. Arya seemed like the type of girl who craved attending pool parties that lasted past sunset and posting on Instagram to document her life.

All the mermaids I knew were precisely that type. Even the few humans I knew would've rebelled against rules that confining. I certainly wished I could rebel more against my father's rules, and I shuddered at the memories of the consequences that followed when I'd dared to try.

I shook off the thought.

"Anyway," she continued, "I thought mermaids were a myth until…well, yesterday. And dragon shifters? Aren't those supposed to be the hot guys on the covers of paranormal romance books?" She laughed, a real laugh this time. "The ones girls daydream about and stupid high school guys wish they were?"

She stared longer than I was comfortable with. And those eyes.

I picked up our empty plates and took them to the sink. "I'm not familiar with that genre."

I hated how I bristled at her implication that I wasn't a hot guy. I shouldn't care whether or not she found me attractive. All the better if she didn't. There were enough girls at this school that would drop their panties for me at a mere wink, which was great for the occasions when I needed to vent my pent-up hormones.

Those escapades were free of emotional ties, which I simply couldn't afford to confuse with sex. I especially refused to form any kind of bond with Arya, emotional or physical. Clearly, my dick didn't agree, as it was currently straining against my briefs.

"Oh?" she asked. "What genre do you prefer?"

She made her way to me as I squirted some dish soap and began to scrub, trying to think about my dragon history essay to lessen the swell in my pants. Her nearness made it impossible.

"I don't have much time for novels," I said, keeping my eyes on the dish in my hands.

For being so talkative, she was suddenly quiet again. Maybe she thought I needed to concentrate on something as simple as washing dishes. Strange.

"So what do you have time for?" she asked as I turned the faucet on to rinse the first plate. "I m-mean…" she stammered. "What do you like to read? You said so yourself that you're a walking encyclopedia. Tell me something."

I looked at her—at those blue eyes that drew me in and threatened to hold me captive.

I had the sudden urge to run my fingers through my hair so I'd have an excuse to duck away from her gaze. But my hands were wet, so I reached for a drying towel instead. It wasn't where the staff usually left it.

Where is that damn thing?

I ripped my gaze away as Arya slowly took the now-clean plate from me. Like she'd scare me away if she moved too quickly. She probably would.

Smart girl.

And, of course, she was holding the towel.

I turned back to the sink to scrub the other plate while Arya dried. The rote action helped clear my head.

"What do you want to know?" I asked.

"Well… My mom kept this entire world from me. So, you can pretty much tell me anything about shifters, and I guarantee that I won't already know it. Like the fish thing." She pointed at the plate I washed. "I mean, yeah, of course, it makes sense that a mermaid should eat fish. But also, yeah, I didn't know it."

I rinsed the plate and handed it to her, then quickly washed and rinsed the utensils before answering. "So, your hair didn't clue you in?"

I turned off the faucet, then took the towel from her when she'd finished drying to wipe my hands.

"My hair?"

"The blue streaks didn't hint to you that you weren't exactly human?"

She held up a lock of black and blue. "Dyed. It was the one thing my mom actually let me do that was semi-rebellious."

She leaned against the sink with both hands behind her. Something seemed to dawn on her suddenly.

"Is that why that Adina girl's hair is that dirty blondish-greenish color?" Her face scrunched into a disgusted expression when she said it. "Because she's a mermaid?"

I barked a laugh at her admittedly adorable grimace, then quickly composed myself again. "It actually has something to do with food preference, in Adina's case."

"Oh?"

"I believe she's overly fond of kelp."

Arya made that face again. I held back another laugh, but a smile slipped out.

"Some mermaids have hair color that would never be natural to a human or other shifter. As a kid, I knew a mermaid who liked to frequent the lake at my family's vacation property. Her hair was brilliant violet. She was good friends with my mom."

That sad look returned to her pretty face.

I studied her, trying to decipher the change of mood. But it didn't take me long. Idiot. Her mom just died.

"I'm sorry," I amended quickly, terrified that the waterworks would start again. I didn't handle crying well, and Arya's earlier had made me feel so utterly useless. "I shouldn't—"

"No, it's fine," Arya said, but I could see the tears brimming on her dark lashes. "It's just fresh, is all."

"I don't know how losing your mom could ever be less than fresh," I said. "Unless your mom was like my father—"

I gripped my hair for an excuse to look at the floor, but I couldn't do it long, and I made it look like I was running my fingers through it so she wouldn't think I was some freak.

Yeah, she'd probably already come to that conclusion.

Still, I needed to stop saying things like that about Arthur. It always made its way back to him. Why couldn't I be one of the illegitimate sons, like Adam or Alex, who could say and do whatever they wanted?

It was a burden being the heir. So much was expected. So much was required. I hadn't had a moment of peace since the day I was born. I was grateful puberty came early for me and I'd been accepted to the school at thirteen.

But I'd never really wish to not be the heir because that would mean that Octavia wouldn't be my mother. And I couldn't imagine…

"I'm really sorry for your loss," I said, and for once my voice sounded like I actually meant the words.

I wasn't the greatest at conveying emotion, so it surprised me that I actually sounded like I could. It didn't mean that I never felt anything. I just wasn't great at expressing it.

She smiled sadly once more, but fortunately didn't begin crying again.

One of the kitchen doors creaked open. For a high tech facility, you would think they could afford some WD40. I was grateful for the warning, though, because I suddenly realized my proximity to Arya was closer than I wanted anyone to see.

Especially Ms. Tanis. The teacher's eyes smiled—though her mouth didn't—as soon as we locked eyes.

I covertly took a step away. It probably wasn't subtle enough. I couldn't care, though. I wouldn't allow myself to care.

"Students should be in their dorms at this hour," Ms. Tanis said sternly with a raised eyebrow. The smile in her eyes was gone. "You know that, Mr. Dracul."

"Of course. Sorry, Ms. Tanis," I muttered under my breath and exited as quickly as my legs could carry me. I only heard the end of Arya's apology about being a new student and not knowing the rules.

Free of her intoxicating presence, my head mercifully cleared. But I didn't slow as I trekked through the hallway. I couldn't have Arya thinking I wanted to continue our conversation by stalling—and I hated that I secretly did.

Still, it wasn't long before I heard the click of heels behind me.

"Mr. Dracul!" Ms. Tanis was out of breath as she came up behind me.

"I know, I know," I said, slowing my pace just a little. "I'm heading straight back." I tried not to sound annoyed that she apparently felt the need to tell me twice.

"No, it's not that," she said, holding a hand out to stop me. For someone so petite, she certainly made me feel about a foot shorter in certain circumstances. Like this one. Just like Arthur did.

"Is it about what happened last week? Because Brett—"

"It's not about Brett," she interrupted and squeezed her eyes tight. She exhaled and then smiled."Your father spoke to me today."

Like I hadn't seen them right in front of me. I crossed my arms over my chest. I didn't like the tone in her voice.

"He informed me of the task he assigned you."

I resisted the urge to snort in derision, instead biting my lip. Arthur assigned a task master? Faking a friendship with Arya was that important?

"He told you," was all I said.

"Clearly, your father was wrong." She hooked a thumb back toward the kitchen. "But he wanted me to convince you of the importance of…fulfilling your assignment."

Assignment? Really? I wasn't in the damn military! Well, not yet. But I didn't like thinking about that.

I didn't grace my distant relative and Dragon Mastery teacher with a response.

"But I can see that you haven't wasted any time," she said, pride shining behind her glasses. "Perhaps I'll shirk my responsibility in checking the kitchen the next time I'm on curfew duty." She winked.

I couldn't help the scowl that narrowed my eyes.

"Look," she said, putting a hand on my still-folded arm, and it was all I could do not to angrily shrug her off for the intrusion into my personal space. "You don't have to fall for her. He didn't ask you to do that."

"I know what my father asked," I ground out.

"Okay." She let go of my arm, nodded once, and then clomped down the hallway in the opposite direction. Running off to send back a report to Lord Dracul about my obedience, no doubt.

I raced up the stairs to the second floor and barreled into the avian common room. I wanted to crash face-first onto my bed and sink into unconsciousness. I wanted to be alone.

"Don't you look bright-eyed this evening?" Brett teased from the couch, ruining any hope I had of sneaking into my room unnoticed. He was shooting zombies on the large flat screen. Sneaking off to bed usually didn't take any effort with the pseudo-apocalyptic distractions.

Niko was snoring in the chair next to Brett. His controller lay loosely in his hands.

"Did ya find the teacher's stash of espresso to go with your midnight snack?" Brett asked. "Or did you corner Cora in one of the greenhouses again?" He winked just like Ms. Tanis had.

I wanted to punch him in the face.

"You're the only one banned from the espresso," I deadpanned. "And since when do you even notice my sneaking by your virtual bloodshed? Seriously, Brett, haven't you beat this game yet?"

"Three times, actually." He grinned wide.

"You're a dragon, Brett. How is that game at all entertaining? Slow humans shooting dead guys?"

"You're changing the subject," Brett said, then uncharacteristically turned off his game. And the TV.

"No, I did not corner Cora," I said, rolling my eyes at his idiocy and moving to head to my room.

"Nope. Not done talking." Brett stood and stretched but then sobered and looked me in the eye. "What did Lord Dracul want?"

"It doesn't matter," I replied flatly, pointedly keeping my thoughts miles away from a pair of bright eyes.

Brett raised an eyebrow. For speaking as slowly as he sometimes did and fronting the persona of a washed-up surfer, Brett was surprisingly observant.

"He needed me to do something," I said. "An assignment, sort of."

"Assignment?"

I nodded, my lips pressed in a flat line.

"What is it?" His eyebrows rose.

"Top secret."

"Liar."

I shrugged. "I'm not telling you." I hadn't even decided if I was actually going to do it.

"Well…are you gonna do it?" Brett asked, weirdly reading my mind.

I narrowed my eyes like it would help me read Brett's mind. I shook my head. "I'm going to bed. I've got an essay to write in the morning."

I had a responsibility to my family above all else. And now that I'd met Arya, it didn't really seem like I had a choice.