Come on, Fati! We can’t be late for the first day of classes,” Ollie calls to me from the foot of the stairs. I have my door open and thank the Goddess Above that everyone was already up and down at breakfast this morning for the first day of classes frenzy. Angela had told me that as the days wore on and people got more settled in, that wouldn’t be the case anymore. But for now, the school year was new, there were new wolves in the packhouse, and life was bright and shiny. Our wolves wanted to make a good first impression.“Give me five minutes!” I call down to Ollie as I loop a hair tie around my long French braid. I never wear my hair down, usually pulling it into a long ponytail. But, again, since today is the first day of school, I wanted to put in an extra effort. I had done two long French braids down either side of my head and wanted to curl the front pieces that I had pulled out to frame my face. Problem was, I have an impatient wolf at the foot of the stai

“It’s been a week, Fati. Are you just going to stare at him or are you going to make a move? He’s your mate. You’ve got to make a move. He’ll want you, it’s just the way that mates work,” Ollie says as she sees me staring at my mate during the break for our class. He laid his head down on his arms about five minutes before the professor called a break for our three hour class and he hasn’t moved since. It doesn’t take werewolf senses to know that he’s sleeping. It also doesn’t take werewolf senses to detect the slight limp in his step or see the bruises on his face. Or the wince when he takes too deep a breath. He’s hurt. I don’t know how he got hurt or who did it. What I do know is that my wolf is rising inside of me, begging to know who hurt my mate so that I can end their miserable life. “I find out his name. Did I tell you that?” I murmur to Ollie. “No,” they say, turning fully to face me. Their eyes

“I’m telling you, Ollie, you don’t have to wear a dress. The website says that you could wear a pantsuit. You have those,” I promise them. For one, I’m telling the truth. The website does say that formal attire for women, and I’m going with biological sense, is EITHER a dress or a pant suit. But also, we have to get on the road! We have about an hour to get to our reservation and I want to see Kurt. He and I have been texting back and forth ever since our coffee date yesterday. He confirmed that he works at a restaurant as an expeditor, which is something that I have to ask him about. I have no idea what an expeditor is, but love listening to him describe the adrenaline ridden nights in the kitchen at the most sought-after place in Houston. I mean, the only reason that I got the table that I did is because I’m a luna and we hold power, even in the human world.He tells me that he’s a boxer and just had his biggest fight ever, which is why he had the li

We finish eating around 9:00, so I headed back to the house to change. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to head to the gym in the outfit that I had gone to Marsaf’s in. Still, I wanted to look nice, so I put on a wine colored lace bodysuit and a pair of jeans with a pair of heels. I had texted Kurt when we were about five minutes out from the restaurant and he was waiting for us outside. Now I’m sitting ringside, right by his corner. I’d met Kurt’s trainers Mickey and Russo, along with another guy in his crew, Jimmy. They were all in the back, making sure that Kurt was dressed and warmed up for the fight. When Jimmy escorted me to my seat, there was already a fight in progress. “Lightweight fight. Our guy is there in the blue and yellow. Corey. This fight should be wrapping up in the next ten minutes and then they’ll be a break for them to clean up before Kurt’s Heavyweight fight. You want a beer or something?”“Got soda? Coke or Pep