Chapter 1 - Hana

“Hannah Ya-sh-id-a?” The woman at the register desk butchered my first name and tried hard to pronounce my mom’s surname.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and stepped forward. I wasn’t in Bloodmoon anymore. There was no level of built respect because I’m the pack princess. I also opted to use mom’s surname instead of dad’s. Anonymity. That was the whole point.

I chose a university across the country from Bloodmoon to get space from life among the supernatural. I’m a human, and I need to accept it is not my fate to belong in that world beyond the adoption paperwork. I needed to find out who I am as a human. Somewhere, I wouldn’t need to compete and train against beings with powers I’ll never have.

That, however, didn’t mean picking just any university. I’m still an accomplished student who graduated top of my class with a 4.0 GPA and had many extracurriculars to pad my applications. Thus, I ended up in New Haven, Connecticut, at Yale, where the closest werewolf pack is either The Nashoba Valley Pack or Silvermane, both in Massachusetts.

Dad isn’t on speaking terms with Alpha Irwin of Silvermane because, well, that pack is the embodiment of ass. Dad is, however, on good terms with Alpha Liam from Nashoba Valley but promised he would not have people checking up on me. So, Aurelia promised Dad wouldn’t keep such close tabs on me. Aunt Sarael promised to keep Uncle John from doing the same.

That leads me to why I’m going by Yashida rather than Kinsley. I want anonymity. Being away from the pack only frees me from the weight of being a princess. The name Kinsley is known worldwide due to our family’s company. I don’t need people budding up to me for connections or looking at me like I’m some trust fund kid.

Do I have a trust fund? Yes. How do you think I’m paying to attend Yale? I’m not like what most think of when they think of someone with a trust fund. I have plans for that money. I wasn’t raised to waste money, especially on frivolous things.

“Not that it entirely matters, but my name is Hana Yashida.” I corrected the woman.

Yep. That’s the dead-eyed look of a person who gives zero fucks. I didn’t expect her to care. She’s not paid to care. It’s freshman orientation. She is handing out dorm assignments and information. I’m one of thousands of faces she’ll see and names she’ll butcher.

“Take your packet and move along, Miss Ya-sh-id-a.” She shoved a packet at me with my name on it.

“Have a nice day.” I smiled while taking the packet, unsure if she did that with my name again to be annoying or couldn’t bother to correct herself.

I opened my packet and took out my housing paperwork. It looks like I’ll be in the Mansfield dormitory. That means I’ll have a roommate, which is fine. I didn’t want Dad to pay extra for a single. I don’t need a single. It’s not like I’m a werewolf or something where I’d need the added privacy.

As I hauled my luggage behind me, I contemplated what my roommate would be like. I grew up surrounded by various personalities. I couldn’t see how this human, I need to get out of that habit. I’m a human. I need to stop thinking like a werewolf when I’m not one. Either way, I doubt my new roommate would have a personality that’s too far from what I’ve encountered.

Oh, I was wrong.

I knew the unit would come furnished and be generic, like the bachelor apartments back home. So it was jarring to walk in to see my roommate, or I hope she’s my roommate, painting the living room wall neon green. That alone would be off since we aren’t supposed to change the dorm permanently. Nope, what had me staring at her was the holographic giant alien wall stickers. I mean aliens like the little green kind and flying saucers.

I cleared my throat to get her attention. She spun with a gasp, neon paint splattering across the floor and dangerously close to my shoes. I’m lucky she didn’t get it on my boots. I like them. They’re my favorite pair of boots. Grandpa William bought me these boots, and while cowboy boots might not be the height of fashion, least of all at Yale, I love them.

“Hola!” She grinned, waving, splattering more paint till she realized she was waving with the paintbrush hand. “Sorry about that, chica. I’m Pamela Batista, which makes you Hana Yashida.”

She tilted her head, big brown eyes blinking as she looked at me. Her lips formed a thin line before going back to the bright smile. So I’m used to bubbly people. Before I realized it was just puppy love, I thought I was in love with a super bubbly person.

“Is there a problem? Other than that, you’re painting when we aren’t allowed to, and you splattered paint everywhere?” I asked.

“You aren’t what I expected when I saw your name on the roster. I mean, I was expecting a Japanese girl, and of course, you’re Japanese, but your…” She gestured at me with the paintbrush.

I jumped back a few paces to avoid the splatter.

“Your style isn’t what I’d expect. Especially those boots. Where are you from that you’d have cowboy boots? Certainly not Texas or most southern states. If you are, you hid the accent well or didn’t grow up there.” She asked, still staring at me like I was some puzzle to figure out.

“I’m from Portland, Oregon, and my grandparents own a horse ranch,” I explained as I carefully navigated around the paint splatter and toward the bedrooms.

“Oh well, that explains the boots. At least you aren’t one of those people that only wear them as a fashion statement when they’ve only ridden a horse at a petting zoo or if they are one of those richie rich kids who ride in equestrian events.” Pamela nodded.

“Um, thanks?” I wasn’t sure what to say as I tried to make a chastity exit to the bedrooms.

I went into the first open door, and if I thought the scene in the living room was something, it paled compared to what I walked into. How long had Pamela been here? I thought I’d arrived early to get settled in, but she must have been here days ago or worked very quickly because the room was nearly wallpapered with posters of various rugby players. They all played for different teams, but one thing was similar between them, and that was their body type.

“Are you a chunk girl too?” Pamela asked.

I jumped, startled by her suddenly being behind me. I furrowed my brow at her question. Chunk? What in the name of the Goddess was she talking about? I am far from chunky. Grandma Mary often says I could stand to put more meat on my bones.

“I beg your pardon?” I blinked.

“Chunk.” Pamela nodded to the posters. “Thick thighs, bulging muscles, broad shoulders. Chunk.”

I blinked and looked at the posters again. So, that’s what Pamela meant by chunk. I’m certainly not opposed to that physique. I’ve known several males with such a build, though none were as apparently chunk as Suzie Walterson's in-law, Ivan Furlan. Pamela would probably lose her mind if she watched the pack training sessions where such physiques were displayed.

“Sorry, I’d never heard that term before. We call them mountains where I’m from.” I shrugged.

“I can get behind that term, too. You got a guy back home? Is he a chunk?” Pamela asked.

I blushed at being asked if I had someone back home. It wasn’t very comfortable to admit that I’m eighteen and never had a boyfriend. That’s not to say I’ve never been kissed or am a virgin. That last part is a secret between Aurelia, me, and Aunt Sarael. It’s in everyone’s best interest that my dad NEVER knows. I could have a mate and kids, and he’d like to believe it was an immaculate conception that made him a grandpa.

“Um, no. I didn’t date. My dad is….” I frowned, trying to think of how to phrase it.

“Super strict and wouldn’t let you date?” Pamela arched her brow.

“Well, he didn’t exactly forbid me, but he is an intimidating guy, so guys were scared.” I shrugged.

“Gotchya.” She nodded. “Well, he’s way back in Oregon. So he won’t be around to intimidate guys here. You’ll have to come with me to check out the first rugby team practice. See if we can spot any chunks.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Um… sure. That sounds fun. I should go unpack.” I pointed to the other bedroom.

“Oh, totally. Settle in, and we can grab some food and hang out later.” She nodded, stepping out of my way.

“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed before I ducked into my room.

As the door shut, I sighed. This is what I asked for—the typical human college experience. I should go with the flow and enjoy it. While unpacking, my phone started playing If You Want Blood by AC/DC. I smiled as I dug it out and quickly answered.

“Hi, Daddy.” I greeted, slumping on my bed.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’s Yale? Did you get your schedule and dorm information? How’s the dorm? Did you get a roommate? What’s she like? They are a she, right? Cause if…” Dad started peppering me with questions when the phone was taken away.

“Logan, stop pestering her.” Aurelia sighed. “He’s just worried about you. Goddess, help us when Rose and CJ are grown up and ready to see what the world has to offer.”

I laugh-sighed. “It’s fine. You can tell Dad I’m fine. The flight here was uneventful. The register mispronounced my name, but I expected that. My roommate is a woman, and she seems nice. Quirky, but nice.” I said, keeping my voice low to ensure Pamela wouldn’t hear me.

“Quirky? What does that mean?” Dad asked. Either I was on speakerphone, or he got the phone back from Aurelia.

“Like Kurt and Silvercloud energy but focused on chunk rugby players.” I shrugged.

“That first part sounds terrifying. What’s a chunk?” Dad asked.

“You are, hun.” Aurelia sighed.

“Ew.” I cringed.

“I’m a chunk?” Dad questioned. “Why do you know what that word means?”

“Because I’m married to a chunk, of course, I know the phrase. It’s just a way to describe a guy with broad shoulders, thick thighs, and bulging muscles.” Aurelia explained.

“And I repeat. Ew. Aurelia, I love you, but please stop talking about my dad like that.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Sorry.” Aurelia laughed. “We’re glad you got there and are settling in. We’ll let you get back to that.”

“Thanks. Tell Rose and CJ and everyone hi to me.” I smiled sadly, realizing I missed my little sister and brother.

“We will. Bye, Hna.” Aurelia assured.

“Bye, sweetheart. We love you. Remember to call home every so often.” Dad sighed.

“Love you too, Daddy. And I will.” I assured him before hanging up.

“Hana? Come on, let’s go grab food!” Pamela shouted.

“Coming!” I yelled back.

It was time to start this new chapter of my life. While I suspect Pamela as a roommate will make it interesting, I doubt it will be all that extraordinary, so far removed from the supernatural.