Page 17 of The Wolf Professor

What—the—fuck.

Why the hell was Motham Library allowing the solstice ruts to be advertised here? On the noticeboard in full view of everyone. Had they lost their minds? What about decent upstanding moral values? Gods above, this was a community space. Old people, children, heck—everyonelooked at this board.

Or had Motham City become so liberal, so licentious, so anything-goes that it was considered fine to advertise a rut… arutof all things, within the hallowed walls of an educational facility?

How had his pack even got their act together to get this poster displayed?

Max had a good mind to tear the thing off the board, screw it into a ball, and hurl it in the nearest trash can.

With super-human effort, he stopped himself. Drawing attention to the poster might link him to the event. Especially with the name Hunt displayed at the bottom.

Grinding his molars, he strode back to Charlie and said as politely as he could muster, “I’m sorry, I do need to get back now, Charlie.”

“Oh, of course. Sorry guys, gotta run.” She hugged her friends, amid coos of “must catch up soon” and “Love you babe.”

Feeling old and boring amid this flurry of youthful affection, Max turned on his heels and stalked off.

He was aware of her feet hurrying to catch up with him and slowed his pace.

She must think he was a bad-tempered prick, the way he walked off without waiting for her all the time.

Yep, no denying it, he was going to win the prize for the world’s grouchiest boss.

And he couldn’t even tell Charlie why.

CHAPTER 8

“So how’s it going, working for the famous prof?”

Charlie smirked into her cocktail and shrugged. Her college friends Gina and Simone, a pixie and a nagi, stared at her across the table with expectant eyes.

It was Friday, the end of her first week as Max’s assistant. She’d met up with different friends every night so far. Luckily, she had plenty to choose from. Tonight she was in a funky little bar on the edge of the old city, rather ironically called Fangs and Claw.

But frankly, what else was she to do? Stay home and eat alone in the kitchen? She guessed from the neatly washed dishes she saw on the side of the sink when she returned that Max had at least eaten. But there was never any sign of him.

Even at lunchtimes he disappeared, leaving her to eat at her desk, or make polite conversation with Mrs. Bates on the days she came in.

She was beginning to feel like maybe she smelled bad or something…

And every evening, different friends had asked variations on the same questions, impressed that she’d jagged the gig withtheMax Hunt.

“What do you do all day?” Simone asked.

“Well, so far, apart from viewing the Almanac of Beasts, which was amazing,” (she was not going to share justhowamazing), “it’s pretty run of the mill stuff. I’ve just been collating his notes, and other than the fact that his handwriting is appalling, the work is dead easy.”

“He looks like he takes himself very seriously,” Gina commented.

Charlie nibbled on her lip. “I think he’s a loner. Maybe a bit shy even. And a total workaholic. But then, he only has four weeks here in Motham, so I guess he’s on a tight deadline.”

She must have huffed a tiny sigh because Gina, who never missed a trick, chuckled, “Oh dear, you’re still hot for him, aren’t you?”

Charlie gave her an indignant glare. “No way.”

“Oh c’mon, you had a major crush at college.”

“Did not!” Charlie felt the color darkening in her cheeks as her friends eyed each other, then burst out laughing.

“Oh, you so did.” Simone uncoiled in a leisurely fashion and sipped at her drink. “You practically ignited the day he gave that lecture. Then you didn’t stop talking about what a genius he was for weeks.”

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