Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I know my mom feels ashamed of Dad and avoids the council members or ducks her head in submission when she sees them. I fucking hate it.
“Yeah,” I admit.
“You didn’t even tell me you had her as a teacher, and now I find out she’s the reason you got suspended?”
Fuck.
“She’s…” My brain goes blank. I can’t trust myself to say anything about Lotta that won’t reveal too much. I settle for, “I got myself suspended. It was just in her class, Mom.”
She continues to consider me with concern. “You should be careful around her, Asher. You know her mom’s on the council. If she thinks for one second that you’re a danger to her daughter, you’ll be out of here.”
“I’m not a danger to her daughter,” I grumble. Guilt seeps from my pores.
“Well, I know that, but you just got suspended for breaking a kid’s wrist in her class. That doesn’t look good, does it?”
“I know. I–” I sigh and stand. “I’ll be more careful, Mom.” I lean down to kiss her forehead. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
She gives me a hug and leaves, and I drop my head to the door. Dammit. This is a prime reason why I can never claim Lotta James.
It would break my poor mother’s heart.
Lotta
A text comes in from Andy between classes. He sent flowers to my house yesterday. I promptly brought them over to my mom’s house and opened the windows at my place to air out the smell. The last thing I need is for Asher’s wolf to get triggered thinking some other male is sniffing in his territory.
I also texted Andy last night to say,
I told you I’m seeing someone. If the gallery intro is hinging on us hooking up, then I don’t want your intro.
He responds now.
Andy:
babe, it’s all cool, you know you’re still my girl.
Me:
?No, I just told you I’m seeing someone.
Andy:
Don’t be like that. I’ll be there this week. We’ll meet up and talk.
Me:
Forget it. I’m not interested.
This is getting stupid. He didn’t pay this much attention to me when we were living together. Why is he acting stalker-y now?
Asher and his baller buddies walk in the classroom as the bell rings, and I shove my phone back in my purse and start taking attendance.
When I’m finished, I say, “I should have a paragraph from every one of you by now describing what form your self-portrait will be,” I announce in sixth period.
I fan myself with a folder I grab from my desk. I’m having a hot flash. It started the moment Asher walked in the classroom and hasn’t let up.
Worse than the heat is the steady pulse between my legs.
I’m in a room full of shifters. Literally all of them will be able to smell my arousal if they’re paying attention. I need to get a grip on this.
“Asher, I don’t have one for you. If you want to play in the next game, you need to come and see me right now. The rest of you may work on your projects.”
My stomach tightens as Asher unfolds from his chair and saunters up to the front of the class.
I hold my head high despite the wave of dizziness that comes over me when he gets close. I can barely breathe–the air feels too thick and charged.
As arranged, he’s been taking care of my needs. Showing up after dark and letting himself into my casita with the key I gave him. But he’s been cold. Angry. Every encounter leaves me simultaneously satisfied and empty.
Today, I feel a pressure I haven’t felt before. It’s a biological pressure, I think, at least, it’s coming from my wolf. But not to have sex.
To soothe my mate? To connect with him?
I don’t know. All I know is everything feels terribly wrong, and I can barely think.
I hold my ground, even when Asher gets too close, crowding into my space and towering over me, so I have to tilt my head way back to look in his eyes.
I hope he won’t call my bluff on benching him. I simply don’t want to go toe-to-toe with him. He’s angry with me. He’s holding a grudge.
One I well deserve.
He’s acting out, like the rebellious bad boy he’s always been.
That’s not the side of him I want to bring out, and drawing a line in the sand is just going to continue this dilemma.
“I will waive the written paragraph requirement if you can verbalize to me now what your plan is for the self-portrait.”
Asher’s brows pop. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans and looks out the window.
“If you don’t have any ideas, I’d like to help you figure something out.”
He drags his gaze back to mine. “No, I have an idea.” A thoughtful gleam is in his seagreen eyes.
It’s my turn to be surprised. “Okay. What is it?”