Page 25 of Alpha Varsity

He waves the panties. “Tell me he didn’t touch you, so I know I’m not committing murder tonight.”

Chapter Eight

Asher

Lotta puts her hands on her hips and glares down at me. “It’s none of your business.”

I bare my teeth. “Tell that to my wolf.” A deadly strain to my voice makes the hairs on her arms stand up.

She has to know my wolf will want blood. He couldn’t help himself from attacking Eric in her classroom last week for disrespecting her. I may hate her, but my wolf will defend her to the death. It’s just simple shifter biology.

I shove the panties into my back pocket and grip one of Lotta’s slender ankles. One quick tug, and she’s off balance, falling backward. I throw a hand out to cradle her head, softening her landing on the mattress.

Her eyes are wild. Her jasmine and honey scent is all over the place–a mixture of fear, anger, and lust.

Being near her simultaneously soothes and riles my wolf. I want her so fucking bad; it’s hard not to claim her right here, right now.

Of course, that can’t happen. Even if she didn’t hate me, I don’t want her.

I can’t trust her. Her family hates mine.

Lotta’s slender form is centered on her king-sized bed, which takes up most of the studio apartment. A pristine white eyelet bedspread frames her, and the heap of fluffy pillows by the headboard make it look like she’s a stunning model posing in an interior design magazine.

She rises to her elbows, her cheeks flushed with color. There’s a green glow to her eyes. Her wolf is showing. Whether it’s from danger or desire, I can’t be sure.

The desire to shred that bedding, break the headboard, and find out exactly why a tiny she-wolf like Lotta needs such a giant bed overwhelms me.

So does the need to know about the panties.

“Tell me he didn’t touch you,” I growl. I don’t mean to put a threat in my tone. Or rather, the threat is meant for Eric, not her, but her throat bobs.

“He didn’t touch me.”

My wolf is so fucking pleased with her answer. Not just because he didn’t touch her–I didn’t really believe he had–but because she offered up the answer. She’s agreeing itismy business.

I manacle both her ankles with my hands. “How did he get the panties?”

Lotta’s gaze flicks to my touch, and she tugs one ankle back, testing my grip, but the scent of her arousal blooms in the room.

She wants me. We may be completely at odds with one another, but the biology is there. There’s no one for her but me.

No one for me but her.

I drag her ankles closer. Her knees are bent, so her butt comes toward the edge of the bed. “Tell me, Lotta.”

“I hadn’t shifted since I went to college,” she says.

My brows rise in shock. I want to grill her about that, but I don’t stop her story.

“I didn’t plan on shifting for the full moon. I was at school, painting. I heard the pack, and then it was like I was a teenager in transition. I was starting to shift before I even knew it was happening. I stripped out of my clothes as I ran for the back doors. I’m lucky I didn’t shred my clothes. When I came back, I realized I was locked out of the school. My phone and my keys were inside. I meant to come in early the next morning, but I slept like I was in transition, too. Principal Olsen picked up my clothes, but he must’ve missed the panties.”

I can’t control the low growl issuing from my throat. The thought of any male–principal or student–touching her panties makes me want to bash in the windows of the school and set the whole place on fire.

It must frighten her because Lotta tries to pull out of my grasp, straining to kick me.

I pin her feet to the bed, sliding them wider, so her knees fall open. My wolf is right at the surface. I know my eyes must be glowing. The desire to possess her, to make sure no other male ever spreads a rumor about her again makes my brain short-circuit.

All I can think about is sex.

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