Page 45 of Alpha Varsity

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, without moving.

“Now.” I’m right in his personal space now, dragging in his cedar and sexy man scent.

His nostrils flare and eyes glow green as he takes a slow pull of mine.

I drop my set of keys and look down without moving.

For a moment, I think my ploy isn’t going to work. Asher’s too committed to being a dick to follow along. He gives me a long, slightly disparaging look, but he eventually leans over to pick them up.

When he hands them to me, I swap the set with the key to my casita.

I get a blast of his power, but this time, instead of anger or rage, it’s lust.

“Move the bike,” I repeat, tossing my hair. “Thank you for the food,” I murmur as I strut past him.

I feel his gaze on my back–or more likely my ass–for my entire walk into the school building. I turn to look back when I get to the door. Only then does he cast a mocking salute my way and throw a leg over the bike to move it to student parking.

I find my own version of a smirk playing on my lips as I step into the school.

Chapter Fourteen

Asher

I slip out to Lotta’s place after football, dinner, and homework. The key to her apartment burned a hole in my pocket all day long, and sitting in her class was pure torture. She never looked at me–not once–but she blushed every time I got hard watching her strut around the classroom in her hip-hugging skirt and heeled sandals. She wore this fitted black crop top with a daisy over her tits that made me want to shred the shirt to ribbons and bury my face there.

Knowing thatsheknows she’s mine–that she’s admitted it, no matter how reluctantly– shifted things for me. I don’t have that sense of fury toward her.

The old anger and sense of betrayal still sits like a stone at the pit of my stomach, but it only gives me a sense of misgiving now–not full-on rage.

I stop outside Lotta’s door. Huh. I can tell she’s not around. Her jasmine scent isn’t there. But more than that–I just know. My wolf is already in sync with her. I try the key, anyway, just to be sure it works.

It does, but the place is empty. Her car isn’t parked under the carport next to her parents’ garage.

My wolf snarls at being denied. Is she doing this on purpose? Trying to take the reins back on our sexual encounters?

It doesn’t fit, though. Lotta felt different today. Less closed off. Her murmuredthank youover the food was warm, and she proactively got me the key to her place.

Is she with her parents? No, the car wasn’t there, I remind myself.

Ah.

The image of her car still sitting in the parking lot when I left after football practice snaps into my mind. The night of the full moon, she’d shifted at school. She must stay there to paint.

It makes sense–the canvasses she uses are huge. They would take up half her one-room apartment here. Besides, sleeping with that scent of paint thinner would drive her wolf crazy.

And her wolf is already a little nuts.

I jog back up the wash and get on the Ducati. I drive to school, but hide the bike behind a dumpster and the back wall of the school. I can’t risk someone seeing it while driving by.

Lotta’s car is in the parking lot, and there’s a light on in the art studio. Knowing the doors to the school will be locked, I stand under the windows. I pick up a pebble to toss at the glass to get her attention but then go still, staring.

Lotta stands with her back to me, facing a large canvas. On the canvas is a giant wolf’s face.

Mywolf’s face. Black fur with white around the muzzle and the chest. Bright green eyes.

My teeth are bared in a ferocious snarl, hackles raised,shoulders hunched like I’m about to pounce. Saliva–or maybe it’s the serum I would use to mark her–drips from my teeth.

My body reacts to the painting like I’ve been hit by another linebacker. A fiery cannonball explodes in my center, causing the stone in my stomach to shift and roll. My wolf thrills that I’m in the forefront of her mind. That he’s her muse.

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