Violets and Ash

Chapter 5

‘We’re actually doing this, Lacey. We’re going to college. Did you see how proud Elijah looked?’ I laughed, spinning in place while some obscure pop song trickled from my phone.

‘This is all he’s ever wanted for us…but you know we can’t back out now, right?’ She replied, and her uncertainty caused the first crack in my giddy exterior.

I sucked in a breath, held it for seven seconds and exhaled just like my old therapist taught me. Even now I could see his face, speckled with deep lines and pock marks, that flap of greasy white hair over his head. Those long, drawn-out meetings where I talked about my feelings and lack of memories were my primary motivation to act normal.

So long as I took my daily cocktail of medication and went to my bi-weekly appointments there was no need for a grueling three sessions a week.

‘We’re not going to back out.’ I insisted, determined to ride out this euphoric high for as long as possible.

My romance novel infected brain conjured one scenario after another. The shy, awkward main character starting her first day at an elite boarding school after a whirlwind make-over, always running from some elusive past I couldn’t wait to discover.

She’d turn heads the moment she walked through the doors, beautiful while never realizing it. There was usually a fifty percent chance she’d catch the eye of the golden-haired jock or the asshole in ripped jeans.

Personally, I always preferred the blue-eyed jock. There was something about arrogance topped with thick hair, dark eyes, and wrapped in leather jackets that made my blood boil.

I wanted romance, not high blood pressure and a maximum life span of forty-three.

‘Are you sure about this, Vi?’ Lacey asked, ears flattening. ‘It’s been a while since we’ve been in a public school…it’s not going to be like your novels.’

‘I’m just trying to stay positive, Lacey. I know it’s not going to be like a romance novel, and don’t pretend you aren’t listening in every time I read them. I could feel your presence plain as day when I read End Zone.’ I grinned and fell backwards onto my new bed, giggling as I slowly sunk into the blankets.

‘Human sports are interesting.’ She grumbled, narrowing her pale eyes.

I contorted my face into a stern expression that made Lacey snort and nodded solemnly, ‘…of course, it was the sports you stuck around for.’

‘Really, Ms. high and mighty? What drew you in?’ She asked with a twitch of her bushy tail.

‘You know exactly what drew me in. I’ve never hid that.’ I teased, seconds away from making her bristle when my stomach rumbled pitifully.

It had been hours since dinner and instead of sunlight streaming past the billowing folds of silken curtains in my bedroom, it was now moonlight.

I’d talked to Sylvia a bit longer, going over potential classes and a major while devouring my side salad that consisted of mostly lettuce and a few cherry tomatoes.

All werewolf schools, public and private, had warrior training. My heart quite literally skipped a beat when Sylvia assured me she’d look into certain accommodations that would allow me to skip training. It’s been years since my last blackout, and the last thing I needed was to ruin my lucky streak in this new town.

to think things over, to make sure this was what I really wanted. Truthfully, my mind had

I was long past trying to starve myself to achieve the toned physique just about every she-wolf possessed. I

the kitchen?’ Lacey suggested, her voice

into a grin, ‘aren’t you the

point, maybe. You kinda ruined that when you decided to work at the worst bar in town.’

fair.’ I nodded, leaping off the bed and onto my feet. ‘Speaking of the bar,

town. The bars around here are probably more like nightclubs, which means we’ll run into other students. We can figure it out after we get some food in our stomachs.’ Lacey insisted, urging me out the

peep coming from any of them. I wondered if they were all bedrooms and tried to

was one door that made me pause. I caught the faintest scent of cologne. The trail was so weak that I couldn’t even tell what it smelled like, only that

being nosy before someone catches

head that wondered if the door was locked, I continued down the hall. When I

like to grow up in a house like this. Running through these massive, twisting hallways would’ve been the first thing I did. Well, that and explore

rumbled again, and as I spotted the front doors my fingers twitched with that familiar urge. There was no way I could do my usual routine of checking the locks. I’d look

built into made a soft swishing sound as I pushed past them. The effort I made to keep silent was for naught because the second I walked into the kitchen; the lights flicked on.

crossed over her chest. The

ready for battle.” I let out an anxious laugh that confirmed my guilt.

lie to save my life. It’s a wonder I managed working at

she’d been waiting on Graham was confirmed when she dropped her protective stance and said, “If you knew how many packs of cookies I’ve told Sylvia I ate just to cover for that doe-eyed thief, you’d be ready to battle too. Just last month she gave

heat up, confirming my lie just in case my wavering

fell victim to the same thing all these old-blooded families do.” Norma sighed and abandoned her battle station, wandering over

familiar and just a little bit frightening. It practically oozed intimidation and wealth. She said it with a comfort that made me wonder if this were an everyday term, possibly something unique

I asked, salivating when I caught the scent of leftover jambalaya, bold and smoky from

suppose it’s a good thing you don’t know anything about them, but that’ll change once you start school.” Norma trailed off as she began rummaging through the cabinets, muttering about someone named Louis and how he needed to stop reorganizing her kitchen. “Come here and eat while I give you a

as if on cue, my stomach rumbled miserably. I half expected Norma to make a lewd comment about

the bowl, watching the steam curl off

leaned against the countertop with a disgruntled frown on her face. “Sylvia’s been on a diet of nothing but liquids and rabbit food since Imani Vanderbilt made that comment about her weight. I’m so tired of making that meat flavored water she calls soup. It’s downright neglect to expect you

this Imani person was, she didn’t seem pleasant. Again, the word “old-blooded” came to mind, along with the prestige that accompanied it. A sense of dread curled in my stomach because it was just now dawning on me the situation I had gotten myself into.

gave me a chance to push my fears down, but

seemed to like your jambalaya.” I pointed out, shoveling another spoonful

bay. It tumbled down her back, curled from the bun she had it

with a

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