Page 39 of Alpha Varsity

“I had dinner,” I say, but when I remember the meager serving of carrots and hummus I ate, I realize Asher’s probably right. All the shifting and the sex requires way more calories than I’m used to consuming. My blood sugar must’ve tanked.

“Why am I in the bath?”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go to bed with my cum smeared all over your ass.” His voice is dry, but there’s a line between his brows, and the tenderness with which he applies the washcloth belies the gruffness.

Asher stands. “I’m going to go find you some food.Do notleave that bath.” He arches his brows in a sexy-stern way that makes me melt deeper into the water.

When did the boy-next-door become this huge, bossy man? It occurs to me that I don’t know Asher at all. I remember a defensive kid suffering in school because of an unstable home environment related to his dad. I took on the volunteer tutoring job to improve my chances of winning a scholarship to art school, and it was tough at first. He barely spoke to me the first semester I worked with him.

But I persevered. I worked with him three days a week. By Christmas, he’d leveled up in math, and the rest of his grades were above a C. But the real change was the trust that developed between us.

A trust I completely violated.

I lean my head back against the tile and close my eyes. Regret and pain wash over me. For someone who used to be a pack princess, my life is now a tangled mess.

The scent of butter and toast wafts in, and I sense my body’s relief. I’m going to be fed.

I have to admit, after over four years completely on my own, cut off from the support of my parents, it feels almost too good to be taken care of by someone. It’s especially dangerous when that someone is the guy who just hate-fucked me on the mountain. And in the school bathroom.

Ugh! I still can’t believe I did that. It’s so shameful. So wrong.

After a few minutes, Asher enters with a plate piled high with grilled cheese sandwiches. “There’s no food in your place,” he grumbles. He sets the plate down on the side of the bathtub.

I reach for one of the buttery toasted cheese sandwiches that smell like pure heaven, my stomach gurgling loudly.

Asher leans a hip against the sink, his arms folded across his massive chest. “You know you’re a wolf, right?”

I ignore him, barely chewing the food as I inhale it.

“Why is there no meat in your refrigerator? Are you trying to be a vegetarian or something?”

I don’t answer. I want to tell him to leave, but I don’t have the energy to assert myself yet. I finish the first sandwich, and my hands stop shaking. By the second one, I feel more like myself.

I try to get up, but Asher shakes his head. For some insane reason, my body obeys his dominance, and I freeze.

“Finish the other two, then we’ll talk about you moving.”

I oblige him, reaching for a third beautiful grilled cheese.

“Lotta.” There’s a weighted tone to his voice that brings my gaze to his for the first time since I regained consciousness. But he doesn’t say anything about us. About this thing we’re doing that absolutely needs to stop. About how weshould handle it or what we should do. He’s still stuck on the food. “Why aren’t you eating?”

I give an impatient wave of my hand that knocks the plate off the side of the tub.

Asher’s reflexes are lightning fast. He catches the plate and rights it before the remaining sandwich flies off the edge.

“Whoa. Impressive.”

“What’s the deal, Lotta? Talk, or you’re not getting out of that tub.”

I roll my eyes. “You can’t hold me prisoner in my bathtub, Asher. You know one yell and my parents would be here and–” I stop my threat because we both know where things would go if I did that. Asher would be booted out of the pack just like his father. My mom would make it happen before morning. And of course, that line of thinking brings back our twisted history and the reason he hates me now.

He takes a bite of the last sandwich. “And?” he asks with his mouth full, his cocky demeanor in full force. “You gonna finish that sentence?”

My face flushes and then grows suddenly tight, like I’m going to cry again. But this time it isn’t about feeling helpless to my wolf urges. It’s from the power and potency of Asher’s wrath. I feel it hit me square in the chest and take my breath away. A blast of hatred that makes me want to curl up in a ball.

“No.” I throw a note of stubbornness in my voice, blinking back the tears.

“Tell me about the food. I don’t get it.”

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