Page 9 of Conner's Luna

I unlock my truck and open the door with the hand under her legs. "Hang on, Princess."

"Put me down!" she takes advantage of my one-armed grip to suddenly bolt from my arms. Shocked, I let go without thinking. She rushes to the bushes next to my car and vomits.

"Shit, Bailey, good timing," I mumble, watching her yak until only thin green bile emerges.

"Oh, God," she wails, wiping her eyes, "I hate the flu!"

A wave of relief washes over me. The flu. Fuck, I forgot she was a little weakling human. Probably gets sick easily.

"Hey, you all done? Let's get you home." I guide her back to my car. She settles in and begins to shiver. "Cold?" I ask her, turning up the heat until the sweat is rolling down my face. She doesn't respond, just rests her forehead against the cool glass window and trembles. "Bailey?"

"I live on Chestnut St.," she mutters.

"In a house?" I ask her, surprised to hear her name a residential neighborhood just at the edge of RedMoon territory.

"With my dad," comes the reply, "at 16."

"You don't have a dorm?" I ask her. I know she's a scholarship student, but how did Sarj miss her address in his dossier? Unless I didn’t see it when I skimmed through it.

"No," she mumbles.

At least if it's a real house I can take her home instead of to my place.

"Alright. 16 Chestnut St. Got it."

"I can't miss Statistics."

"You're missing it," I reply patiently. "Can't you miss three classes before it affects your participation grade, anyway?"

She snorts very inelegantly. "I'm getting a zero in participation, despite raising my hand multiple times. I'm invisible. It's the only explanation I can think of that makes sense."

"Who teaches Statistics?" I ask her casually. My jaw is clenched tight. This girl could pass the class without any trouble at all. Clearly, she's being treated poorly even by professors.

"Professor Lane. She's not the best teacher," Bailey says, "but not the worst I've had." Honest to a fault.

I nod, thinking. This can't happen. Not at a university that my pack donates millions to. Hell, Bailey is one of five recipients this year of the CH scholarship. There's no way she deserves a zero in participation. I believe her, that she's trying to participate. Fuck, she doesn't seem to have any trouble at all running that sweet mouth of hers.

"OK, Bailey, here we are," I pull into her driveway. It's a cute house. Small, but well-maintained. There's something a little sterile about it. It doesn't tell me much about Bailey or her dad.

"Conner, I feel yucky."

"Yeah, I noticed," I say sarcastically. I cut the engine and step out of my truck. The hair on my neck rises as I go around to help her out of the car. "You smell like puke," I tell her. It's still preferable to the scent of the RedMoon wolves all over the property. My wolf is going haywire, thinking about hunting them on their own turf.

"Thanks, jerk," Bailey mumbles. I ignore the insult. She's human and not feeling well. Even my wolf barely reacts, more pissed off about RedMoon and curious about Bailey's strange odor than her half-hearted insult.

We stumble inside after she searches for her keys for five minutes. She immediately stumbles to the couch and sinks down, wrapping a light green comforter around her for warmth.

Is this just the flu?

"Hey, Princess? Do you, ah, need anything?"

"Orange juice. More blankets."

"What about medicine?"

"Nyquil," she mutters, "medicine cabinet in the bathroom."

What the fuck is Nyquil?

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