Obsession: A Rejected Mate Shifter Romance (The Mate Games #1)(5)

I scooped all the clothes off my bed, carrying them in my arms as I strolled across the room toward her. She didn’t even look up as she continued painting her toenails a deep crimson. Until I dropped the pile of designer garments straight onto her freshly painted feet.

“You really should put your clothes away. They could get ruined.”

Eyes trained on me, she smirked. “Well played, Fallon. Maybe you’re not a runt after all.”

Ah, home sweet home.





Exhaustion weighed heavily on me, seeping into my bones as I came through the door and headed straight for my bed. The room was empty, thankfully. Wherever Moira was, I hoped she stayed there.

My first day of classes had been a complete fucking disaster. Any hope I’d had about Ravenscroft being my fresh start had been shot straight to hell. It seemed like my classmates were determined to hate me. If they weren’t staring, they were whispering, and the wide berth everyone gave me made me wonder if someone told them I had some kind of communicable disease.

I bet it was that alphahole, Kingston. He’d probably told them all how deep his disdain for me ran. Who knew what kind of lies he’d been spreading?

I almost longed for the solitude of the Fallon estate and what I’d dubbed my ‘little ivory tower.’ It was neither a tower nor ivory, but at least there I’d be surrounded by familiar things, and I could avoid seeing the people who hated me. Maybe freedom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Tossing my arm over my eyes, I fought the wave of tears that threatened to crest. I would not cry on my first day here. I was stronger than this, dammit. But I hadn’t expected to feel such loneliness so quickly.

The bed dipped, startling me because I’d thought I was here alone. I opened my eyes and found Moira; at least, I thought it was her. Her hair was a startling violet shade now, cropped close to her head and putting her pretty face on display.

“Nice hair,” I grumbled.

“You are pathetic.”

“Is that always how you respond to a compliment, or am I special?” I grunted in response.

“No wonder you have no friends.”

“Seriously? Who the hell shit in your Cheerios? What did I ever do to you besides befoul your fucking dorm room with my mere presence?”

Moira sighed. “Listen, you didn't do anything. You exist in our space, and that’s enough. Especially since Kingston Farrell has said nothing but terrible things about you since we heard you’d be joining us.”

“I hate that jackass.”

“Seems the feeling is mutual. But”—she cocked her head to the side—“you aren’t giving off the she-bitch from hell vibe he describes, so I think I need to figure you out for myself.”

“He’s just butthurt because I rejected him. I haven’t actually done anything to him. Hell, I haven’t even seen or spoken to him since I was sixteen. You think the guy would grow a pair and get over it after seven years, but apparently I made an impression.”

Her brows, a matching violet to her hair, lifted, and she snagged me by the hand, tugging me up until I was sitting. “Oh, you humiliated him. I knew there had to have been something like that. He went from zero to douche canoe over one summer. Girl, you created a monster. I bow down.”

“What?”

“Anyone who can crush a man enough to change him like that is basically a goddess in my eyes. So, on that note”—she stood and propped her hands on her hips—“we should be friends.”

I laughed. “Just like that?”

“Do you want me to make it harder? It’s not like you have folks beating down the door with other offers. And truthfully, you’ll never have a better offer than this one right here, sweetness.”

Heaving a sigh, I stared at this little spitfire of a woman and nodded. She was right. I needed a friend, not another enemy. “Sold.”





Chapter

Four





SUNDAY





Libraries were all the same no matter where you were. Human or supernatural, they smelled of dust and paper, leather and ink. It was one thing I could always count on. The Satori library here at Ravenscroft was no different. I tossed the heavy tome I'd been studying onto the table in front of me, a loud thud calling attention my way from the scattering of students up and down the rows of workspaces. I’d been spending more and more time here during the evenings because any time I was alone on the grounds, I could swear I felt someone watching me. I wasn’t ready to get caught alone in a dark corner with yet another person who despised me.

"Careful, treat the books badly, and the banshee will wake up." Moira pulled out the chair next to me and flopped onto the seat, somehow still seeming as graceful as a prima ballerina.

Today her hair was fire and spice, with dark cherry red roots gradually lightening to flame yellow at the tips. What had been a sleek blonde and blunt cut at her shoulders only yesterday now fell to the small of her back.

"Nice wig," I said, not paying her warning any heed.

"It's not a wig. This is all me, babycakes."

She tugged on the end of her hair.

"How? I thought magic wasn't allowed here."

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, "Newbies," before leaning in close. "In class, maybe. But they have no say in what I do when class is over. Besides, when I’m not on school grounds, I want to look good."