The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1767

"He looks pretty good," Wynter said, her gaze already giving her thoughts away.

Crow, hearing the praise, wished he had never taken on human form in the first place. He cautiously glanced at Dalton. As expected, despite his smile, there wasn't a trace of warmth in it.

"Oh?" Dalton's gaze fell on Crow. "What's good about him?"

He believed that Wynter's taste still required improvements.

Wynter moved a little closer to him. "He brings good fortune. You should conserve your purple energy and draw on his instead."

This answer made Dalton's fingers pause for a moment. His gaze softened briefly, and then he asked, "Are you worried about me?"

"Of course. You're someone I've painstakingly taken care of," she replied.

Wynter had practiced medicine for years but had never cared for anyone as much as she did for him. She didn't even blink at the cost of the rare herbs she used on him.

It went against her usual money-making principles. But then she glanced at his face again and decided it was worth it.

Dalton noticed her bright, unabashed gaze fixed on him. He was all too familiar with that look—it was the same one she had when she first dragged him up the mountain.

After all these years, Dalton still felt that this gaze should only be reserved for him. When she looked at others, it stirred something dark within him—violent, possessive, and even a desire to lock her away.

He gulped slightly as he shifted his gaze from her collarbone. His voice was low as he said, "Then don't go provoking anyone else. You won't need anyone else's fortune with me here."

Wynter wondered why he sounded so much like a flirt. Meanwhile, Dalton raised an eyebrow as if asking her why she wasn't leaving yet.

Soon, Wynter noticed that everyone around them was staring in their direction. More precisely, they were staring at Dalton.

Well, that was a given. With his looks and presence, it was impossible not to attract attention, especially outside the girls' dormitory. People were already murmuring. After all, there weren't many who could pull off a black trench coat so handsomely.

And it wasn't just about his good looks. Dalton exuded an air of authority, a noble elegance that seemed ingrained in his very bones. He commanded attention even if he did nothing but stand there. Yet, no one dared to truly approach him.

There was no one with his level of presence in the university, and people were starting to gossip about his identity. Some of the passing female students were visibly flustered, their hearts racing. A few even seemed tempted to approach him.

Wynter glanced up briefly. She had initially intended to send him off somewhere else, but she suddenly changed her mind, a playful smile curling her lips. She figured that his allure could definitely expedite her questioning, especially here.

"Excuse me, are you here to see someone? I can get them for you," a girl, Tracy Kylan, asked boldly as she held a stack of books, her face slightly flushed as she looked up at Dalton.

Her roommates stayed behind her. They thought Tracy was the perfect candidate to approach him given her delicate features.

Dalton didn't respond to her instantly. Instead, his gaze passed over the group of students, settling on Wynter, who had paused mid-step with her brows arched slightly. She made a hand gesture, signaling for him to play along.

Dalton's expression turned cold. He lowered his gaze, and for a moment, it seemed like he was smiling—smiling out of exasperated irritation.

Tracy pressed on. "I'm part of the student council. I know a lot of people here, but I've never seen you before. Are you a new exchange student?"

"No," Dalton replied, his tone indifferent. "My fiancée is looking for someone. I'm here to accompany her."

The surrounding female students were speechless for a second, wondering if they heard him right. The sheer impact of his words left no room for hope. He didn't even try to soften the blow.

No wonder even Tracy, one of the campus beauties, had received such a cold response when she spoke to him.

Tracy's expression stiffened. Her charm had never failed before. With her innocent looks, fair skin, and soft, youthful features, it naturally made people want to pamper and protect her. But Dalton hadn't spared her a glance.

As Tracy bit her lips, Dalton spoke again. "Are you still not coming over?"

Wynter, who had been deliberately hanging back to observe the students and the dormitory layout, finally stepped forward. She'd initially thought about using Dalton's striking presence to her advantage, but it was clear he didn't appreciate the idea.

Without hesitation, she walked over and stood by his side, flashing the students a charming smile. "My fiancé came to accompany me. I'm the one looking for someone."

The girls had indeed failed to notice her. Logically, with her striking beauty and alluring presence, she should've been impossible to miss. But Dalton had drawn all their attention, and they'd been too focused on Tracy's interest in him to notice anyone else.

Tracy's expression faltered. She avoided Wynter's smile, muttering an "Oh" under her breath. Her lips pursed slightly, and a faint trace of disdain flickered in her lowered gaze.

She thought to herself that Wynter's look was overly flashy and outdated. She was sure men would get bored of that quickly.

Wynter, an expert in criminal psychology, picked up on Tracy's disdain with ease. Her microexpressions and subtle body language were all too telling. Moreover, she carried an air of resentment. It didn't take much for Wynter to figure out that she didn't like her.

Wynter raised an eyebrow slightly but didn't take it to heart.

Her earlier silence had been deliberate as she was observing the students.

Stacey had recently committed suicide, and Wynter noticed that some of them seemed surprisingly indifferent. That, in itself, meant they likely weren't the culprits, but it also highlighted the lack of genuine connections among them. After all, they weren't even gossiping about the incident.

Wynter knew this case wasn't a straightforward one. It wasn't just about financial scams but was also tied to something darker—human sacrifice. However, something about their collective apathy didn't sit right with Wynter.

One of the girls, Juliet Warwick, finally spoke up. "Who are you looking for? Which dorm is she from? You should tell the dorm supervisor. Standing here with your... fiancé doesn't seem appropriate."

"Stacey Perez," Wynter said calmly.

The moment the name was mentioned, the group fell silent for a moment.

Tracy couldn't help but interject, "Her suicide is all over the internet. Don't tell me you've been offline and didn't know. Talking about finding her now is really creepy."

Wynter lowered her gaze. "I'm her cousin. It's precisely because she committed suicide that I want to know why she did something so foolish. What could have driven her to such despair?"

Dalton glanced at her. He couldn't believe she was pretending to be Stacey's relative now.

Wynter's acting, as always, was flawless. "I want to know if someone had been bullying her or if she had any grievances…"

"You should probably ask the police about that," Juliet muttered. "The floor above has already been sealed off. Plus, no one here would have bullied her, yet everyone's now saying we isolated her. They really should be investigating outside the school."

Wynter tilted her head slightly. "Outside the school?"

Tracy tugged at Juliet's sleeve. "Didn't the police tell us not to talk about the case?"

"I just feel wronged! She committed suicide over a relationship, so what does that have to do with us? We weren't even in the same class! And now all our classes are suspended, and the internet's blaming us for isolating her.

"Honestly, she was the one bullying others! Her family's wealthy, and she still competed with poor students for financial aid. Who would dare say anything to her? How does that make us the ones who isolated her?"

Juliet's frustration was palpable, likely from being under intense scrutiny recently.

As though looking out for Juliet, Tracy quickly stopped her. "Do you want to get called into the principal's office again? Stop talking about it."

Only then did Juliet fall silent.

Previously, she'd said something similar when the police questioned her and ended up being berated by Stacey's parents, who accused her of bullying Stacey. She felt utterly trapped, as if no explanation could clear her name. She'd even been called in for a formal discussion!

"It's fine," Dalton replied, still holding Wynter close, his hand cradling the back of her head.

Wynter had the distinct feeling some sort of spell had been used. She was about to investigate when Dalton's grip tightened. "Your awareness is too low today."

She realized he was right—her distraction earlier had dulled her senses.

Dalton's fingers lightly combed through her hair, his chin resting on the crown of her head. "Are you so concerned about the deceased? Do you see them as good or evil?"

"I was just thinking," Wynter murmured, leaning into his warmth. "But now that I reflect on it, it feels like someone is deliberately using this to disrupt my focus. What's the term in cultivation for that?"

Dalton laughed softly, his voice low. "Disturbing your Arcane mind."

"Exactly." Wynter wrapped her arms around his waist. "But I think they're using the wrong method. If they really wanted to distract me, they should've sent a few people like you. Beauty traps might actually work on me."

Dalton scoffed softly. "A few?"

"No, just you! Only you!" Wynter's instincts for danger were as sharp as ever. "One of you is more than enough!"

Dalton clearly didn't buy it. He looked down at her from his towering stance, his gaze cold and distant, the deep affection in his eyes laced with icy shards. He even withheld his usual embrace.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Wynter clung to him and said earnestly, "Everyone else feels like a compromise after meeting you. I'm not interested in settling for less."

Dalton raised an eyebrow.

Wynter grinned, leaning closer to his throat. "I'm fatally attracted to you. There's no substitute in this world."

She wasn't just referring to his charm—she meant his blood. And he understood. Her words, however, were pleasing.

Dalton tilted his chin slightly. "Remember what you said. Don't break the contract you made."

Wynter was confused, not knowing what contract Dalton was referring to. She didn't even remember making any contracts.

Dalton didn't give her time to process. His lips landed on her collarbone. "I won't be so lenient if you plan to exploit my looks again."

He didn't just kiss her—it came with a light bite.

The sensation made Wynter freeze. It was a pain unlike anything she'd felt before. Or perhaps, she had felt it long ago, but the memory was too distant to recall clearly. Or maybe it was from a dream.

Her eyes widened as she stared at him, her breathing unsteady. His hand was resting on her waist, and his presence conveyed a single, undeniable message—he didn't want to hold back anymore.

It felt similar to the dream she had, where he had her pinned against a desk, surrounded by scattered books and scrolls.

Wynter tried to push the images away but found them getting harder and harder to control.

Finally, she bit her lip and asked, "Do you believe that someone can reincarnate without forgetting their past memories?"

Dalton looked at her, his gaze deepening. "I'll believe it if you do. So, do you believe in it?"

Wynter took a deep breath. "I'm... not sure."

All rational thought seemed to escape her. How could she explain the inexplicable connection between them?