6| ELIJAH

“Elijah?” Luka’s voice cut through the haze clouding my mind at Lenora’s presence.

It took effort to tear my gaze away from her, but I managed. “Hm?”

“What was that?” Luka asked, brow furrowed as he glanced back at Lenora shuffling through her papers, jaw tight. “Do you know her? The professor.”

I opened my mouth to answer but stopped short. Slowly, I closed it again and shook my head. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Luka—or even Neil, who was now leaning forward to scrutinize me.

But how could I explain something I didn’t fully understand myself? Whatever lingered between Lenora and me—if it even existed—felt fragile, like a thread stretched taut, ready to snap under scrutiny.

This wasn’t just a night to laugh off. Something deeper simmered beneath the surface, a restless energy under my skin whenever she crossed my thoughts. It was unsettling, and the last thing I wanted was to expose it before I could untangle its meaning.

And then there was her. Poised at the front of the room, all sharp edges and evasion, refusing to meet my gaze as if it might scorch her. Whatever she felt about last night, she clearly wanted to keep it well under wraps. Now wasn’t the time to tell.

“No,” I said finally, forcing a grin as I leaned back in my chair. “She just caught me off guard. Didn’t know professors could look like that.”

My eyes drifted back to her, helpless. She was a magnet, pulling me in despite every logical instinct screaming to look away. To pretend last night never happened—a sentiment Lenora clearly shared.

But since when did I ever choose logic?

Neil rolled his eyes, muttering as he slumped in his seat, “If you’re into that kind of thing.”

Luka’s skeptical stare lingered, so I leaned forward, adopting a conspiratorial tone. “And you know,” I wiggled my brows, “I’m sure she was just as lost in my scorching good looks.”

“Yeah, sure,” Luka scoffed, clicking his tongue.

Lenora cleared her throat, snapping my attention back. Her hand brushed her cheek in a fleeting nervous gesture before her expression hardened, locking every emotion away.

My wolf stirred, restless beneath my skin, claws raking inward as if straining toward her. The ache in my chest deepened, stubborn and unshakable.

“My name is Lenora Monroe,” she announced, voice steady. I couldn’t help but remember the way it trembled yesterday when she opened up to me, a stranger about her nerves about resuming work the next day. “I’ll be your new professor.”

I caught her slight pause before ‘professor’ and smirked. Still avoiding eye contact.

“Professor Stone stepped down unexpectedly, due to some personal issues,” she continued, glancing at her notes with a faint frown. “You were due for a test today. Lovely timing.”

Her tone balanced professionalism and dry humor, but the word test dripped with thinly veiled disdain.

Neil cursed under his breath about cursed luck. Luka muttered something I missed—I was too fixated on Lenora, on the tension coiled beneath her calm.

Maybe to some she might have been unwavering and inscrutable, but I could see right through her, like her emotions were open to me.

“Transitions can be challenging,” she said, sharp green eyes sweeping the room—skimming past me. “But my goal is to make this seamless. Let’s get through today, then discuss syllabus adjustments.”

Her gaze finally settled on the class, though I swore it flickered toward me before she straightened. Murmurs rippled through the room, and I noted the appreciative glances shot her way—guys, girls, everyone.

Not that I blamed them, she looked good. Neat bun, white blouse, pencil skirt and heels. Her face was beautiful and her features were delicate, enchanting… haunting. But even with that knowledge I felt an irrational burst of possessiveness that surged straight from my wolf.

Fuck, what was wrong with me?

“Before we start,” she lifted a stack of papers, heels clicking against tile as she stepped from the lectern, “fill these out and leave them on my desk before you leave.”

Thank the goddess for front-row seats. She paused at my desk first, hesitating a heartbeat before dropping the paper and retreating swiftly.

Citrus and floral notes—her scent—washed over me as she passed, lingering long after she moved up the aisle.

“Hey, Professor,” a voice drawled from behind us, thick with suggestion. “You do private tutoring?”

I turned with the rest of the class to see Reese Halden—the chief Gamma’s son and resident dickhead—grinning up at her like a predator.

“Mr…?” she began coolly, assessing him with a clinical expression.

“Halden. Reese Halden.” He winked.

Annoyance flared in my gut, sharp and sudden.

“Ah,” she tilted her head, voice honeyed with false sweetness. “I’m impressed, Mr. Halden. It’s rare to see students so eager to volunteer for… extra assignments. And considering your grades last semester, I’m glad you’re taking up the initiative. But I’m afraid that I do not offer such at the moment.”

The class erupted in snickers and I couldn’t help the smile that stretched across my face either. Reese’s smirk faltered as she turned away, crisp and unruffled. “Now, let’s begin.”