Ash whined softly in the back of his throat. Hunched down even more, the way a dog will when he

needs to go out at night but thinks you’ll yell at him if he asks too loud. I considered spitting to

clear my mouth, but I knew it wouldn’t get that taste away.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay.” I dug for the key with clumsy fingers. Froze again when he moved.

The Broken werwulf went utterly silent and crouched, facing the door.

Footsteps I shouldn’t have been able to hear, up above in the silent mass of the Schola Prima. The

touch quivered inside my head, each footfall distinct against the fabric of the night.

They were wrong—landing too heavily, or too lightly. I knew, in that soundless way the touch lays

information inside my brain, that they were vampires.

And if they were here, they were up to no good.

Jealousy

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I ghosted across the stone floor on numb feet. If they got to the door before I could unlock it, I

would be caught in here with no place to run. And Ash . . .

I was sweating so bad the key almost squirted out of my fingers. I slid it into the lock with a rasping

metallic sound, and the footsteps stopped. I couldn’t tell how far away they were, but the consciousness of danger made my palms wet and my thudding heartbeats blur together like hummingbird

wings.

Oh, crap.

Ash slid forward, noiseless and straining. The textures of his fur rasped against my jeans. A completely, totally inappropriate giggle crawled up in my throat, drowned in the horrible citrus tang. I’m

about to let the werwulf out for the night. It’s just like letting out the cat, only there’s no scratching

or spraying.

I twisted the key just as the footsteps ran forward, tippy-tapping closer. The sounds echoed, and a

bright spear of crystalline hate lashed across the inside of my skull. I let out a garbled half-scream

and tried to shove the door open with every ounce of strength I could scrape up. My back seized,

but Ash was already moving. He hit the door like a freight train, so hard the steel crumpled. It

banged into the wall and gave a hollow gong! that would have been funny if a high glassy cry

hadn’t split the air from up above immediately afterward. I stumbled out after him, desperate to be

out of that little room.

A headache sank bony claws into my skull. I breathed out, pulling the touch up like a clenched fist.

It was the only way I could keep myself separate, the only way I could tune out the hatred humming

all around me.

That’s the thing about suckers. They hate so, so much. Sometimes I wonder if they replace their