The Red Eyed Rogue

chapter 4

*Rowan's P.O.V*

"Have you had lunch yet, Ro?" Lysandra asked as we walked down the hallway. She was on my right, while her mate stalked silently on her other side, glaring daggers at any male who dared look in her direction.

"We can catch up, and you can meet my pack," she continued, her tone light.

"Ahhh, I don't think that's a good idea, Ly."

"And why not?" she questioned, coming to a halt with her hands on her hips. She looked just like Mom when she used to scold us.

"Well—" I started, but a loud bang from the cafeteria interrupted me.

I froze, my attention snapping toward the cafeteria doors a few feet away. Grabbing Lysandra's hand, I began pulling her toward the noise. "Let's go. I need to see what this is about," I said, dragging her along. Her mate followed behind, grumbling but obedient.

Now, you might wonder why a guy who hates this place cares about cafeteria drama. The answer's simple: one, I may despise the academy, but I'm responsible for keeping the peace here, making sure no feuds break out between the supers (short for supernaturals). Don't ask me why that's my job—it's a long story for another time. And two? I love gossip. Yes, gossip. Who doesn't enjoy a bit of hot tea now and then?

As we neared the cafeteria doors, the crowd of students parted, creating a clear path for us. At the center of the chaos was a broken table—the one at the back center of the cafeteria. My table. Oh, hell no.

I pushed forward until I was standing behind Sheila and her posse, who had their backs to me.

"Sheila," I called, my voice cutting through the tense silence, "can someone explain to me why my table is broken in two?"

Sheila turned around, her saccharine smile faltering when she saw me. She was dressed in a baby-blue-and-white-striped crop top that barely contained her spilling cleavage and a pair of shorts so tiny they left nothing to the imagination. It might've been cute if it didn't scream desperation.

I shifted my gaze past her to the people sitting at what remained of my table. Four unfamiliar faces.

On the far right was a girl with a brown bob haircut and Harry Potter-style glasses. Despite her nerdy vibe, there was a sharpness in her eyes that warned she could kick your ass if needed. Beside her was a guy with a military-cut blonde hairdo, engrossed in eating a Nutella sandwich. Definitely the joker of the group. On the far left was another girl, this one with long black hair streaked with purple highlights. She was scrolling through her phone, chewing gum, and listening to music through a single earbud.

Finally, my eyes landed on the guy sitting in the center of the group. Brown hair, slightly long, and striking greenish-blue eyes. He wasn't looking at anyone else—his wide-eyed stare was locked on me.

My breath hitched as my wolf whispered the word I never thought I'd hear: Mate.

I froze, taking a sharp inhale, but there was no scent. Confused, I tried again, switching to my wolf mode. This time, I caught a faint chemical odor—suppressants.

A low growl escaped my throat, making the entire room flinch. When I opened my eyes, my gaze met his again. He was biting his lip, clearly realizing what I'd just figured out. I sent him a look that promised, This isn't over, before turning my attention back to Sheila.

"Care to explain?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and raising an eyebrow.

Sheila clung to my arm with a sugary-sweet pout. "Babe, I was just telling them that they can't sit at this table. It's yours, and you don't like anyone sitting there," she said, batting her lashes.

Before I could reply, a low growl rumbled from behind me.

"Get your filthy hands off him," my mate growled, storming forward.

He grabbed Sheila's hand and twisted it, forcing her to her knees. The room erupted in whispers as my sister and her mate exchanged worried glances. Why do they look so worried? I wondered.

Then it hit me. Oh. This must be her pack.

The sound of cracking bones snapped me back to reality. "Shit," I muttered, rushing forward. Wrapping my arms around my mate's back, I pulled him away from Sheila and leaned in close to his ear.

"As hot as it is to see you so possessive over me, my lovely mate, I can't let you kill her just yet," I whispered, my tone teasing.

He relaxed slightly, leaning back into my chest. Perfect fit.

"Well," he muttered, "you'd better tell me when I can because my hands are itching to rip her throat out."

An amused smile tugged at my lips as I looked at Lysandra, who was giving me a confused look. I shook my head, silently telling her we'd talk later.

"Start talking, Sheila. I don't have all day for your tantrums," I said, turning my attention back to her.

Sheila, cradling her broken hand, glared at me. Vampires heal quickly if they've consumed blood recently, but judging by her pale complexion, it had been a while.

"Baaaabeee," she whined, "you should kill that fagg—"

My growl cut her off, the room falling silent as I fought to suppress my wolf. When I opened my eyes, the crowd gasped. My irises had turned red.

"For the last time," I said, my voice low and dangerous, "I AM NOT YOUR BABE. NOR AM I EVER GOING TO FUCK YOU."

The room erupted in muffled laughter, and Sheila's face turned bright red.

"I did nothing wrong!" she protested. "I was just telling them this table is yours and no one else should sit there. And I told them to stay away from you because you're mine!"

The girl with the Harry Potter glasses snorted, crossing her arms. Sheila faltered but continued mumbling excuses.

The girl finally spoke up. "She got mad when we said we wouldn't move. She tried to slap me, but Alex—" she gestured to my mate—"pushed her back. She hit the table, and, well... yeah."

Alex. I tested his name in my head. Cute.

I sighed, already fed up. "Just go, Sheila. And be ready—Lenox will hear about this."

Sheila paled and bolted, her posse trailing behind her.

I turned to Alex, finding him already staring at me. "Come on. Let's go to the bleachers," I said, gesturing to him and his pack.

Taking his hand, I led them outside, my sister and her mate following.

When we reached the bleachers, I sat down, facing the group of six.

"Well? Care to explain?" I asked Lysandra. "Because I'm hella confused right now."

She sighed. "Get comfortable. This is going to take a while."