Page 28 of The Wolf Professor

His eyes roamed over the information. “Lots of options,” he got out in a slightly strangled voice.

Taryn shrugged. “A simple primal chase doesn’t cut it anymore.”

Max read on, feeling tight in the throat as she scrolled down the page.

Book a one-on-one chase, or a multi-partner chase.

All sexual orientations catered for.

Let us know your kinks and we can incorporate them.

Thankfully, Janine handed him a plate of food, so he could tear his gaze away.

“We do still cater for the romantics. For mate bonds,” she said, looking at him with a soft glint in her eye. He felt heat creeping up his neck.

“But anyway—enough of the ruts, tell us all about your research,” Benjy said.

Max dived with relief into a description of his book.

“Great title,” Benjy replied, his eyes already glazing over.

Max dropped the subject and tried to take a measured bite of meat. It was aromatic and delicious. He tore off a bigger piece and chewed, the juices running down his chin. Glanced around for napkins.

Nope. No napkins. Damn it.

He scooped the juices off his mouth and licked his fingers, reminding himself to go wash his hands after.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. They reminisced about old times and talked about the changes happening in Motham City. About their Gran now being in residential care, and how things had changed in the pack’s dynamics since his grandpa died. How Benjy, as head of the pack, had relaxed a lot of the old rules, and had big plans to renovate the pack’s living quarters, mainly with coin from the ruts.

When Max left a while later, Benjy walked him to the gate.

“Mate, tell me to back off if I’m getting too personal, but have you attended a rut anywhere?”

“There’s no such things as ruts in Selig.” He avoided saying that he wouldn’t go to one even if there were.

“So you’re a rut virgin?”

“If you’re asking me if I’ve ever chased a sexual partner like a predator, no I have not. That is not how I operate.” Max raked a big hand through hair, and then, unable to contain himself, burst out, “Gods Benjy, I’d have hoped all this macho alpha shit might have died out by now.”

“Hey, hey, back up the truck.” Benjy’s eyes flared. “No one is talking about predatory behavior here. That’s a thing of the far distant past. We insist on mutual consent. Respect for the ritualof the rut. There’s a lot of pleasure to be had from chasing a willing partner. For all involved. The rut is part of what it means to be wolf. You can’t escape it.”

Max felt himself bristling, “On the contrary, I can. In fact, I have.”

Benjy barked a laugh. “Still holding onto your sigma male identity like a cloak, thinking you’re superior to us alphas, eh?”

Max remained silent, stinging at the criticism.

“Max, even if you balk at the idea of the rut, sooner or later it will catch up with you. How are you going to find a mate, have cubs, if you don’t rut?”

“Maybe I don’t want a mate. Or cubs.”

“Be a shame not to pass on your genes, that huge intellect.”

“I like my own company. Sigmas don’t need pack…” He stopped, realizing how ungrateful that must sound after his pack’s hospitality. Clearly Benjy agreed, because he grunted, “Yeah, well, guess that’s an excuse for never coming to visit.”

Max winced. “Gods, I didn’t mean… Benjy, no. I’ve loved being here tonight. I truly appreciate pack… but I’m not a pack animal, I don’t need… Look at me—” He held his arms out wide. “There’s clearly not an alpha bone in my body.”

Benjy’s eyes slowly panned up and down, taking in Max’s cashmere scarf, tweed jacket, his beautifully cut linen slacks, right down to his patent leather shoes.

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