Page 25 of Balance

Ever since he found out who I was.

There was no way that was a coincidence.

My palms began to sweat, and my stomach knotted. I didn’t want to disappoint him. But really, what was he expecting me to say? “I’m confused. W-what are you talking about?”

“Bianca.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping, sadness touching his olive eyes. “I’m your elderandyour magical guardian. I’m supposed to guide you—to teach you things.”

Whatthings were there for him to teach me?

Brayden was showing me everything I needed. And why was he calling me Bianca now? What happened to the Miss?

Well, besides being married to my brother. That’d, technically, make me a Mrs.

“I have it all planned out,” he began, shoulders squaring and satisfaction heavy in his powerful frame. The room seemed to grow smaller in his expanding presence. “After you re-enroll, you’ll major in psychology. Once that is established, you’ll be moved to my department. And then—”

“Why?” I asked, holding the lukewarm drink against my chest. His expression turned slightly more critical. “M-Ms. Protean said she wants me to work with her when I come back…” I added, wilting slightly under this attention. “I was thinking of c-criminal justice…”

“Ah,Gloria.” Gregory sighed, the look fading, and a tone of longing thick in his voice.

“Besides, I don’t like psychology…” I bit my lip, trying to hold back my derision at the very insinuation. “I took an introduction class in high school.”

Dr. Stephens frowned and his eyes flashed, almost as if he found my statement to be personally offensive. “Psychology is a safer field thancriminology.”

“Aren’t you a forensic psychologist?” I asked. His statement didn’t make any sense and wasn’t even factual. “You go into crime scenes…”

“And youcan’twork with Gloria,” he said, ignoring the hole I’d poked in his argument. “All of us are getting older, and she won’t be able to protect you in her current state. It’s best if you stay with Damen and me.”

What was he talking about? Ms. Protean was strong, wasn’t she? Miles had said so.

“Isn’t she a werewolf?” Werewolves were scary. She was probably deadlier than Dr. Stephens, whose only power seemed to be seeing dead people and glaring at the live ones.

Or maybe his protests stemmed from the fact that shewasa werewolf? At one point, Miles had been afraid of me being eaten. It was a valid concern, but I’d been around her multiple times at this point. That feeling had long since passed.

“I don’t think she’d kill me…” I added, hesitantly.

“She’s not going to kill you. She’s not an idiot.” He set the papers back to the desk and waved his hand in the air in exasperation. “But she can’t protect you.”

That was rude. “I don’t think she’d like you saying that about her.”

Was this the sexism Ms. Protean was talking about? No wonder she hated him.

“I’m not saying it to be unkind.” Dr. Stephens frowned, cocking his head. His glasses briefly reflected the light of the lime-green shaded lamp on his desk. “I’m only telling the truth, as it is right now. If you continue to work with her, you’ll be putting both of you at risk.”

“I-it was her idea…” I didn’t like this feeling, this tightness in my chest. Just the thought of standing my ground made me feel ill. In the past, I might have backed down, tried to come back to it later, if I did at all. After all, why argue? This wouldn’t be happening until next semester anyway, and conflict made my stomach hurt.

But Dr. Stephens knew nothing about me. He had no right to tell me how to live my life.

“Psychology—for the most part—is a stationary field.” Dr. Stephens’s voice was smooth. “It’s a proper area of study for a young woman, and research-based work is well-respected in our community. With this background, you’ll be able to watch Mr. Damen from a safe distance while he does his work.”

Damen. My weakness. It would be so easy to accept a role that would allow me to be at his side every day…

Dr. Stephens played dirty.

Yet, who was he to tell me what to do? It almost seemed that no one—besides Ms. Protean and the boys—even cared about what I wanted.

I glanced at the coffee pot, unable to hold his gaze any longer as I tried to fight the growing frustration inside me. Arguing always made me want to puke. The only elderly person who didn’t affect me in this way was Mr. Weaver, but that was probably because he was a ghost. “I don’t want to major in psychology.”

But seriously, I had every right to be annoyed. Dr. Stephens was wrong. Just watching Damen wouldn’t be enough. There was no way I’d be happy sitting on the sidelines while he waltzed off into danger. If that was what everyone had planned for my life, they’d be sorely disappointed.