Birthright

CHAPTER TWENTY

Monday morning, Kray looked over his class schedule for the twentieth time on his handheld before stepping out of the dorm.

Six courses. Physical Training, Evolution of the Skads, and Native Seminar on Mondays and Wednesdays. Physical Training, Meta Jurisprudence, and Sen Specialty 101 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Field Experience all day on Friday.

Two of the courses were for Sansers only: Evolution of the Skads and Sen Specialty 101.

Four were with Meta cadet student body: Physical Training, Meta Jurisprudence, Native Seminar, and Field Experience.

One hour lunch break. Kray smiled wryly. Something to look forward to. Anything served at the atrium was a thousand times better than the garbage he'd eaten in the Wastelands.

"Watch it, buddy," someone snapped before shoving him against the wall.

He straightened up and shuffled forward with the crowd. The hallways of West Dormitory were packed with students, most of whom gave him glances when he walked past them. Human students mostly. They weren't quite Metas yet, but they'd received the enhancer that made them superhuman as soon as they completed their first year.

Their golden eyes were bright with emotions that ranged from interest to open disdain. For the first time in years, Kray wished he had a cap to pull low over his face. It was stupid. After everything he'd been through in the Wastelands, how could these kids get to him?

Then he realized something felt different. Their scrutiny didn't make him embarrassed and alone like it used to. It made him . . . alert. Like he expected one of them to charge at him with a weapon at any moment. That used to happen way too often in the Wastelands.

Kray scowled and rubbed his forehead with his palm. Thinking of the Wastelands wasn't going to help him here. Maybe if he stopped doing that, everything else—especially the nightmares—would go away, too.

"That can't be good," a voice said in Aldean.

He lowered his hand and glanced over at the girl walking beside him. First thing he noticed—and he'd bet anyone would notice—was that she was breathtaking in a way he'd only seen in fashion magazines and movies.

She had white-blond hair done up in a high ponytail, accentuating the smooth planes of her cheekbones and her elegant features. She was slim and had a breezy look about her, but he didn't miss the lean muscles under her navy-blue shirt or the critical glint in her silver eyes. She was also taller than most girls—he'd bet at least five-ten. He barely had an inch on her.

And she was a Sanser. The bindings were visible on the backs of her hands and on her neck above her uniform collar.

Her full red lips curved into a teasing smile when their eyes met, and he flushed. If anyone else had caught him staring, it would have been bad enough, but it was worse with this girl. He didn't want to come across as some kind of creep who couldn't keep it together around beautiful girls. Even if he hadn't spent much time getting to know girls in most of the last two years.

There were two kinds of girls in the Wastelands. The tough ones who could get by on their own, and the weak ones who'd figured out that their best bet at survival was to latch on to the strongest guy and do whatever it took to keep him happy.

And neither type had had much long-term use for Kray, a loner and an outsider. Random hookups in deserted cities with Metas breathing down their necks didn't do much to build companionship or trust between him and girls who'd shown him interest.

"What?" he said when he realized she was waiting for his reply.

She sidestepped a pair of students, moving gracefully around their bodies without touching them. Her shoulder bumped his when she fell into step with him again. "You looked like you were nursing a headache. That's not a good sign on the first day of classes."