Pack was what mattered. Protecting them. Destroying threats.
For a few seconds, I stayed there, in that distinctly alpha frame of mind where nothing and no one else mattered but protecting my pack, and then, like a drowning man coming up for air, I managed to pull myself back. We were just going to talk to Caroline, try to get some answers.
That was all.
Devon in full-on charm mode was a terrifying thing. Caroline must have thought so, too, because she avoided him, evaded him, and glared brutal, bloody murder in his direction right up until the moment the three of us sat down at her table at lunch.
“Mind if we join you?” Devon slung one arm over the back of his chair and stretched his legs out, looking for all the world like some kind of larger-than-life male model smoldering on the side of a city bus.
“It’s a free country.” Caroline met his eyes with an unnatural, absolute calm. “You can sit wherever you want.”
Most people’s bodies telegraphed their thoughts in ways that run-of-the-mill humans never noticed, but Caroline was like a blank slate. She wasn’t hiding her fear. She wasn’t deliberately communicating that she wasn’t afraid. She just sort of was.
There was some chance that this was going to be harder than I’d thought.
“You left before the real fun started yesterday.” I kept my voice casual, all too aware that the rest of the student body was watching the four of us like we were their soap opera of choice. “Your family is just a bucket of laughs.”
Caroline bared her teeth, and it took me a moment to realize that she was smiling with her mouth but not with her eyes. “The others are very friendly. Have you given any more thought to what we talked about on Monday?”
“I have.” Devon leaned forward in his chair, staying out of her personal space, but bringing the full force of his blue eyes to bear on hers. “I don’t know about the girls, but I’m having some, shall we say, doubts.”
“Doubts,” Caroline repeated.
Devon grinned. “Doubts. I could tell you that I’m devilishly handsome, have an impeccable sense of style, and am much, much stronger than I look, but I could also claim to be the reincarnation of Humphrey Bogart.” He lowered his brows slightly and played his here’s looking at you, kid face for all it was worth. “How’s a girl like you supposed to know who or what to believe?”
For the first time, I saw a chink in Caroline’s otherwise emotionless armor: she raised one eyebrow, ever so slightly, and turned to me. “Is he serious?”
“Almost never,” Lake replied. “But the boy has a point. It’s one thing to breeze into town and say you can do something. It’s another thing to put your money where your mouth is and prove that it’s true.”
“Are you suggesting that I’m not the reincarnation of Humphrey Bogart?” Devon gave Lake a disgruntled look. “I’m hurt.”
“And I’m going to finish my lunch outside.” Caroline slid her chair back and stood up. “I’d give you all a demonstration, but Bryn’s already gotten a hint of my tracking skills, and to show you the rest, I’d have to ask one of you to play the target. I doubt there’d be any volunteers.”
Devon stood up. “Where do you want me?”
“Devon.” At times like this, I really wished he had an aversion to his full name so my saying it could carry the same weight as his calling me Bronwyn.
“What?” Dev said, the very picture of innocence, all six foot five of him.
I wasn’t buying it. This is how you make friends and influence people, Devon? I asked. By volunteering for target practice?
He shrugged. What did you expect me to do, Bryn, compliment her shoes? She’s a trained killer who issues ultimatums on behalf of an entire coven of psychics. I don’t think we’d get very far with girl talk, and besides, have you seen her shoes?
I had to admit that there was a twisted kind of reason to his logic. To get any information out of Caroline, we’d have to talk her into spending more than three minutes at a time in our presence. If challenging her to show off her skills gave us more time to work our way in, it wasn’t the worst idea in the world—except for the part where Devon volunteered to be the target.
“You want me to demonstrate my skills on you?” The neutral set of Caroline’s features gave way to a small, self-satisfied smile.
Devon straightened his lapels. “I’d love for you to demonstrate your skills on me.”
Beside me, Lake groaned. Forget Bogart, she told me. He’s channeling rakish bad boys 101. Don’t know about you, B, but I think I’m gonna be sick.