The door opened at exactly eight, and Dr. Vivienne Cross walked in like she was late for her own photoshoot.
She'd gone all black today. A cropped blazer tied under her chest showed a sliver of stomach above a pencil skirt that hugged her hips, and the skirt ended at the knee where fishnet stockings took over. Heeled boots clicked on the floor. Her long purple hair was pulled into a low knot, and the thin glasses sat halfway down her nose. Every male student in the room stopped breathing, along with about half the girls, and Jordan lifted his head off the desk for the first time all morning.
She set her bag down and perched on the edge of her desk. She crossed her legs slowly. Her violet eyes went across the room and stopped on me.
"Good morning, future gate fodder," she said. "I see we survived Monterey."
The Obsidian side murmured. The Sapphire side went still and attentive, the way a pack of wolves goes attentive at a dinner bell.
