Kincade tightened his mouth against speaking, knowing he would crumble. Those beautiful blue eyes of hers looked so devastated, he wanted to gather her in his arms. It took all his willpower to stand his ground.
She needed to understand that she couldn’t disobey orders.
He hated the restrictions he needed to impose, but they couldn’t lose her. She was too important, not only to them, but to the Academy as well.
But she was pulling away more and more every day that passed, and the more she retreated, the more he wanted to say to hell with it and take her away from it all.
The only thing holding him back was knowing she was safer here.
She needed to train, needed to know how to protect herself.
As the silence stretched, disappointment shattered her eyes, and she released a heavy sigh. “This isn’t working.”
Panic clawed up his chest as she calmly walked into her room, the defeated slump to her shoulders nearly his undoing.
“She’s going to leave.” Ascher scowled, taking an aggressive step forward, and Kincade faced off with him, welcoming the chance to work off his frustrations.
“You agreed this was the best place for her. She’s safe here.”
Draven snorted. “Safety isn’t the point.”
“Her safety is all that matters.” Atlas leaned against the wall, his expression not giving away anything, the unfeeling bastard. He didn’t understand. Morgan wasn’t his mate. Seeing her every day while forced to keep his distance had become sheer torture for Kincade, the disappointment in her eyes twisting him up in knots. Where she was involved, none of them could remain impartial. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could push his team before they snapped.
“She’s putting distance between us.” Ryder didn’t look away from the door she disappeared through. “I can’t hear her in my head anymore. She’s beginning to block us for longer periods of time. Sooner or later, she’ll be able to block us altogether.”
Acid churned in Kincade’s gut, because he knew the shifter spoke the truth.
And they all blamed him.
He raked his fingers through his hair.
They didn’t understand.
He needed to keep her safe.
“I’ll talk to her.” He turned toward her door, ignoring the way Ascher and Draven snorted.
He stopped short when Morgan popped out of her room, and the men came to attention. “I’m going to change out of my sweaty clothes, then we’ll talk. I suggest you head to the roof and think of new and better ways to convince me why I should stay where I’m obviously not wanted.”
Kincade couldn’t move, feeling like his heart had been ripped out of his chest, his body slowly turning to stone as the more primitive side of himself spiraled out of control. His fangs snapped down, his claws burst from his fingertips, and it was all he could do not to turn. The last time he lost his shit, people died. He couldn’t allow it to happen again. He had to maintain control. He had to keep his distance from her, no matter how badly his beastly side wanted to snatch her up and stake his claim—make her understand she was his world.
But that wouldn’t keep her safe.
He wasn’t enough to keep her safe.
He nearly lost her a few months ago.
He couldn’t go through it again.
He would simply have to find a way to make her understand.
A rumble of an enraged wolf emerged from Ryder, his eyes glowing as his beast rose.
Kincade looked like she’d clobbered him with a two by four.
Draven scowled at the guys, while Atlas ignored everyone but her. The elf participated in her training, but kept his distance, the ass always watching her, as if waiting for an alien to pop out of her chest or something. He insisted she was the only one who could stop the spread of a deadly mist in the primordial realm.
Except no one had a clue how she was supposed to save the world.
No pressure.
Ascher narrowed his blue eyes, small wisps of smoke rising from his chest, a sure sign of his agitation. He remained at the Academy only because of her. She hadn’t known he was a shifter when they first met, and he’d used his hellhound form to worm his way into her heart.
She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to leave the men without shattering into a million pieces. Scurrying away from them before her resolve crumbled, she shut the bathroom door behind her, barely able to catch her breath past the ache in her chest.
She couldn’t lose them.
They had to find a compromise.
She stripped and scrubbed until her skin was red and stinging, but the shower did little to alleviate the numbing ache of loss spreading through her. No matter how she examined the situation, she couldn’t think of a way she could stay without destroying the team who had come to mean everything to her.
They no longer hunted because of her, and the tension between her and the team couldn’t go on the way it was without the fragile balance among the guys breaking completely.
She couldn’t bear to be the one who destroyed the team.
When she exited the shower, she hastily dressed, hesitating slightly when she exited the bathroom, relieved and disappointed to see the room was empty. She dropped her clothes at the foot of her bed, then came to a stop when she saw a small, sculpted gargoyle dog resting on her pillow.
The little creature was no more than the size of her fist, but the details were exquisite.
Every week for the past few weeks, she’d been finding a small present in her room. Kincade had demanded to know which of them were leaving her gifts, almost coming to blows when they all denied it. It drove the guys batty when they couldn’t figure out how a stranger was sneaking into their dorm to leave the presents. They set up patrols, cast spells, but nothing they did ever exposed her secret admirer, and it only pissed them off more.
Though Morgan should be as concerned as the others, she wasn’t.
She carefully scooped up the small gargoyle, swearing she could feel warmth rise from the creature. Her magic curled around her bones at the contact, a hum of interest rising, but she couldn’t detect any sign of a threat.
The opposite, in fact.
Her magic hummed softly to the gargoyle, and she would swear it respond by wiggling in her palm, which was foolish…right?
Not wanting the guys to see her admiring her new acquisition—or “fawning over the blasted thing,” as they called it—she shoved the gargoyle in her pocket.
Knowing she couldn’t put off the inevitable, Morgan took a shaky breath for courage and entered the bathroom, using the secret hatch to climb to the roof.
When she reached the top, she heard the men arguing.
“You’re pushing her too hard.” Draven’s voice was insistent.
“She needs to know how to protect herself.” She easily recognized Kincade’s voice. “She almost died. I refuse to let anything like that happen again.”
The raw emotion in his voice rocked her, and she froze, clinging to the rungs of the ladder.
It was more emotion than she’d heard from him in weeks, and the knot in her chest unraveled enough that she no longer felt like she was suffocating.
“You need to back off.” Ascher snarled the words. “I won’t lose her because you’re being a fucking idiot.”
“Besides, she knows how to fight. She’s had to fight for everything in her life.” Atlas sounded unconcerned. “What she doesn’t know is how to see through your bullshit. You need to get closer to her, not allow her to pull away, or you will lose her.”
Morgan bit back her snort.
Truer words had never been spoken.
Morgan finished her climb and pulled herself onto the roof. From their too-casual expressions, she suspected the guys knew she’d been listening.
She glanced at each of them, her heart so full she couldn’t speak, so she turned away from them and stared out over the school grounds, terrified that anything she said would put a bigger wedge between them when it was the last thing she wanted.
“Ever since you learned about my lineage, you’ve changed radically. I went from being a friend and valuable teammate to a pariah. You’ve been acting like I’m…untouchable.”
“But you are royalty.” Atlas spoke so matter-of-factly she wanted to smack him, but there was no denying the truth.
And she hated it.