Chapter One
Group Project
Rhys
“You’re special, Rhys. Keep your head down. And know that you are love—”
The woman’s eerie whisper changes abruptly into a harsh, blaring alarm that snaps my eyes wide open.
“Fuck,” I hiss as I snuggle deeper down into the warmth of my blanket.
It’s my first word of the day. Just like yesterday. And the day before. Then my dream and the hypnotic voice of the mysterious woman fades all too quickly from my mind as more terrifying thoughts shove in and stake their claim.
I have to partner with Kyvain and the other alpha fur-holes for our project in Speech 102. They’ll make my life miserable for approximately forty-five minutes. That’s not… too long. I can handle forty-five minutes.
It’s a terrible way to start my morning, but...
“Shut that alarm off!” Mary yells from the kitchen.
My hand sneaks out from the blankets, and a cold chill races up my exposed flesh just long enough for me to hit the off button on the old alarm clock. I slink further into the warmth of my bedding and dwell on the day to come.
“Get your ass up, Rhys! I’m not going to hear another phone call from our alpha saying you’re skipping classes again.”
My eyes roll so far back that I think I just learned telepathy in a hidden part of my brain.
“For the last time, I didn’t skip. Kyvain slammed his locker into my face, and I literally lost consciousness!” I mutter from under the safety of my blanket, fingers tracing the faint remains of the bruise that rings my eye from the incident. It still aches, but it’s worlds better than it was a few days ago. My makeup will easily cover the faded blues and purples, erasing any evidence that he ever hurt me.
“Up!” she commands, and the moon mark across my chest burns instantly.
And I stand just as fast.
My jaw grinds, and I wish like hell I had a different relationship with my adoptive mother. She’s been all I’ve known since I was seven. I don’t really remember much before that except a blur of foster homes I never belonged in. After all this time, Mary should be like a genuine mother to me, but she’s never given me the affection a mother should.
She isn’t at all like Bea’s mom. Bea’s my only friend, so her family is the only real example I have of what a family is supposed to be like.
And Mary, she should have adopted a stray dog instead of a child.
I saunter through my room and grab my clothes for the day. My project in speech keeps picking at the back of my mind, but I swallow it down and try to ignore it. I’m twenty-one years old. I’m too old to be afraid of some boy whose massive ego is probably making up for the shriveled little thing in his pants.
A warm caress flits across my calf, and I peer down at my number one fan in life.
“Aww, Loki,” I say in that baby talk voice that even I hate.
The sweet little gray cat swishes his fluffy tail even more against my lower leg.
“Good morning, Loki,” I say again with duck lips and all, fully understanding how ridiculous I look.
His meow is loud and demanding.
Right. Food.
Got it.
He’s my number one fan because I am the goddess of food in his life. It feels a little like he’s using me in that sense, but I’ll take what I can get.
I fill his bowl near my door and slip out into the kitchenette. The smell of coffee is strong, and the deep frown on Mary’s face is even stronger. Lines etch her tan features. Streaks of silver are smoothed back against her light brown hair, gathering into a loose bun that she wears nearly every day. She doesn’t say anything or glance my way when I walk through the small room and into the bathroom to change and get ready.
I can’t wait to move out, but in the Dark Moon Pack, you live with your parents until your first shift or until you’re mated, a day Mary has been waiting for longer than even I have. Literally, our calendar has big red X’s slashed across dates leading up to today. She hasn’t acknowledged it or congratulated me, so clearly tonight’s shifting ceremony is an exciting celebration for her.
