Page 46 of A Queen and Her Knight

Set sometime afterSweet Clematis

Summary: Taro was not interested in this freshman wolf, soon to be a sophomore. He wasn’t. And no matter what Mishi said, this was not pigtail-pulling. m/m

“What did you do now?” Mishi sighed heavily as she sat down next to Taro on the grass.

Neither of them were volunteering for the MCC that afternoon, but Taro had sat near the table out of habit. The popularity of the Magical Creatures Coalition had increased significantly due to the events of the fall semester. So many of the beings around campus now found their way to the MCC table near theuniversity entrance that the patches of grasses and trees along the main path sparkled with fairy glitter and shimmering auras of creatures Taro couldn’t quite identify and skin and hair of every color.

It was fantastic.

And if it had a few side effects—like drowning out the hateful screaming of the group of human students who called themselves Human Heritage, and drawing even more lovely and loving human students to this point to encounter all these beings for the first times in their sheltered human lives—well, Taro was hardly going to mind that.

Anyway, all the beings in one place made certain activities easier.

It wasn’t stalking if he was there first.

Taro raised his head from his book and arched an eyebrow inquisitively at his best friend in the world, even if she was currently giving him a disapproving side-eye.

“Me?” He put a hand to his heart in offense, simultaneously checking—always checking—for the spark that was his and his alone. “Am I supposed to have done something, my dear Mish?” He flipped a page in the book he wasn’t reading. The collection of the works of several Beat poets was for a class assignment and Taro was bored out of his wits by all the pretension.

Mishi made the most doubtful noise he had ever heard, the pinnacle of scoffing disbelief. “Taro.”

“What’s he doing?” Taro demanded immediately—without turning around, of course. There was nothing to see if he turned around except one possibly pissed-off baby wolf, and Taro was too self-aware to grant himself that sight.

“Nothing.” Mishi’s response was disappointing in so many ways. “He’s not even looking at you.”

Taro barely held in his gasp of outrage but finally gave in to his curiosity and twisted around.

Several yards away, on a blanket of all things—what starving student had a blanket to bring to the quad to sit on the grass?—was a young, glowing example of a werewolf on the cusp of full maturity. A freshman, which was a disgrace, with a body and a mind still growing into itself.

That’s not to say the werewolf was small—Taro had lived nearly twenty-five years so far and had yet to see a little wolf. The boy was nineteen or so, and tall, built on broad lines. It was the muscle and the meat that hadn’t filled in yet. That would take another year, give or take, unless this werewolf had a very good meal plan and could eat his fill as he continued to grow.

Heshouldhave a good meal plan. It should be expected and planned for. But human universities were notorious for not attending to the needs of their nonhuman students. They barely accepted them, to be perfectly honest, and only begrudgingly catered to any special requirements.

Taro doubted a werewolf appetite would be classified as such by humans who already thought the human students ate too much. The poor wolf probably lived with a constant, gnawing hunger in his belly. It was no wonder he was all shoulder, big knobby hands, and gangly legs. Of course he looked at everything with such intensity. He was hangry, the poor little duck.

Wait. He was not a duck. He was a hungry wolf in search of morsels to snap up in his jaws, and a wise fox would clear out of his way.

Taro was very wise indeed. So he wasnotgoing to bring this werewolf food to make the soulful reproach in his eyes go away,or to see the promise of a broad chest and strong shoulders fulfilled.

That would be absurd. As absurd as Taro’s fascination with someone who obviously had a lot of growing up to do.

Growing up and discovering yourself what was youth and college were for—and learning things, Taro supposed. That baby wolf was going to have new experiences, and date people, and maybe get his heart crushed once or twice, and then find happiness. Taro didn’t need magic to see that, didn’t need to pry into thoughts and dreams. This was the time for discovery and personal growth.

Beings just tended to do it slower than humans—and wolves.

Nothing was inherently interesting about the idea of this freshman wolf, soon to be a sophomore wolf, becoming an adult and going on with his life. Taro wasn’t interested, per se. Wasn’t worried, or curious, or anything to make Mishi judge him.

He was… irked. And it was unbearable. Like a debt he couldn’t pay. Like a thorn in his paw and an itch between his ears and the worry that his spark might be gone and he had to check.

Months ago, that not-yet-full-grown, oddly-mature-but-still-a-baby wolf had practically tripped over his tongue with adorable want for Taro the moment he’d met him, and now the wolf hardly glanced in Taro’s direction.

Taro was a dashing, romantic, sexy sort. Even Sasha had said so—well, not the sexy part, but it had been implied with all of Sasha’s blushes whenever Taro flirted with him. Taro had well-turned calves, and nice, firm biceps, and beautiful shiny hair. He had the loveliest of fox-faces and a wicked smile.

He had no idea what he smelled like to weres, but he thought he smelled of leaves, and static, and maybe the banana he’d just eaten.

Someone getting a crush on him was understandable. Someone not only getting over that crush, but alternating between ignoring him and glaring at him was not. Taro hadn’t done anything to deserve that—at the time.

“You could just leave him alone,” Mishi warned. “It’s not like you would ever have looked at a freshman anyway. If he’s mad at you for not liking him back, it’s a sign of his age.”

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