Page 7 of Wings of Ashes (Wings of Ashes #1)

CHAPTER

T hey had left her in the forest.

Assholes. Assholes. Assholes.

She finally wandered her way out of the deep maze of trees. She found herself standing near the fields where the academy fae grew magical berries or whatever the heck the pompous group liked to make into their treasured, forbidden wine.

She stomped through the field, angrily making her way back to the main academy building.

She was going to be late for her next class: History of Winged Creatures.

She had a particular interest in this class because she still did not know what she was, even after years of being kept in captivity and experimented on because of how “special” and “rare” she was.

She knew she was not a swan shifter. She knew she naturally had red hair, and her parents were killed by roaming dragons before Elle’s family stumbled across a young Nix, lost near the woods of their cygni community.

It was not much to go on, considering the wide range of winged shifters.

A bell rang, signaling the official release of her potions class.

I hope Ryker, Mara, and Bael found the rest of the potion ingredients, so we can do a practice potion in tomorrow’s class before the final grade , she thought as she rounded the corner of the hallway and passed an open doorway of another classroom.

Bam!

She slammed right into someone. This time, she did not propel off of the man like she had with Bael earlier.

The tall person she collided with reached out and grabbed her to prevent her from falling back. A shattering sound came from below, at their feet, and Nix felt her shoes grow wet.

“Damn it, really?” she exclaimed.

She had been walking on the right side of the hall. Didn’t this person know how walking traffic worked at the academy? She had never been clumsy before, so what the heck was going on with her walking into three people in one day?

“Wet shoes,” she muttered. “Perfect for winter, thank you.”

The hands clamped around her arms—which had been there to protect her—tightened so quickly, she yelped.

“Ow. Let me go.” She struggled to pull away from the strong grasp as she glanced up to see who held her so violently tight.

A tall, handsome man, who looked younger than any of the professors Nix knew, stared at their feet with a murderous expression.

She flinched at the burning rage playing across his features—scrunched eyebrows and a pair of captivating lips set in a firm line of displeasure.

She knew she should look down at what liquid wet her feet between them, but she was too mesmerized by his face. His skin had a silver sheen to it, nearly imperceptible, but she saw it glimmer slightly from standing so close to him.

His hair was a dusty silver, but not due to age. That was just the natural color. It was smoothed over flawlessly like his comb knew how to mold the metallic-looking locks into a masterpiece with only a few swipes.

Behind a pair of attractive, debonair glasses, two silver irises matched his shiny yet stony persona.

But what stole all of Nix’s attention were the two, curled stone horns popping from his forehead.

“ Oh my ,” she whispered to herself in a dreamy tone.

“Do you know what you’ve just done?” the man rasped in a tone of pure, thick gravel.

She swallowed and peeked down between them. A glass vial had shattered at their feet; some kind of shiny red liquid covered the floor and her shoes. “Please tell me that is not blood.”

The enraged man scoffed harshly. “Blood would be more replaceable.”

Had he bled many people before? He certainly glared at Nix like he was contemplating doing so to her.

She had been bled before—by her captor.

“Look, I’m sorry about whatever that is, um, was , but I was looking where I was going—”

The man dropped his hold on her arms, stepped back, and completely side-stepped around her. He hastily walked down the hallway in the same direction she was headed. Oh. He had been coming out of the classroom when she knocked into him.

These old Gothic-architecture hallways needed to be made wider.

She grumbled to herself for her lack of awareness as she walked to History class with wet shoes.

When she entered the classroom, at least no one yelled out, “ What the fuck? She is here for our penises! ”

Already starting out better than potions class .

She then recognized a face. Mara.

“Hey!” Mara waved her over to sit at an empty desk beside her. “You made it.” She grinned. “We were worried about you.”

“Were you?” Nix asked as she accepted the seat beside her. After years of isolation, Nix had learned not to trust anyone.

“Yeah, we spent the rest of class searching for you in the forest when Bael abandoned you. He felt bad, by the way.”

Nix snorted in disbelief. “I’m sure he did.”

Mara shrugged and took a bright purple pen out of her bag. “I’m fairly certain Bael and Ryker are still wandering around the forest, looking for you.”

That surprised Nix. “What?”

“Yeah. I wonder how long they’ll stay out there before they give up.” Mara snickered.

“Should we… I mean, can you call or text them to say I made it out?”

“Nah.” Mara winked.

The bell rang, and Nix looked to the front of the classroom, ready to learn. What kind of shifter am I? What was my captor? Why was I taken?

Dusty artifacts littered ceiling-to-floor shelves, which encased the perimeter of the classroom. Nix let her gaze roam around the room. Even the air in the classroom felt rich with history, smelling like old leather-bound books.

“Professor Thierry likes old things,” Mara whispered to her. “Much to the dismay of all the young women who flood his class for a chance to look at him—”

“Everyone, quiet,” a low, raspy, masculine voice sounded from the front.

The professor entered from a hidden door at the front of the classroom that blended in with the eclectic décor. What was beyond that door? A secret library? A sex dungeon? I really need to never be around that incubus, Bael, again . Tainted thoughts.

“We have a lot to get through today,” the professor said. “I hope everyone brought their homework and typed it double-spaced.”

Nix frowned. Homework on the first day?

Oh. Oh no .

She recognized the professor as he turned and moved into the light, looking out at them all. Behind sexy, wide-rimmed and esteemed glasses, those silver eyes shone like beams as he scanned the class with his stony gaze.

Don’t see me. Don’t see me , she chanted in her head.

But, as if he heard her, his eyes instantly locked onto hers.

His mouth, which had been at a resting grumpy expression, thinned into a familiar ornery line of displeasure that Nix had gotten personally acquainted with in the hallway.

“You,” Professor Thierry said very pointedly at Nix. So pointedly that every student turned to follow his gaze and look at her.

“Me,” Nix replied. The one who bumped into you and caused you to drop a mysterious vial full of reddish liquid . The one you seemed to want to murder once I complained about my wet shoes.

“ You are not one of my students,” he snapped at her, pushing his wide-rimmed glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. He waved toward the door. “Get out.”