How did I fix this?
It was my fault, all of it. From the first time Rawling and I made love to a few days ago when he left Sombertooth.
My beast was clawing at my insides, demanding we go find our mate.
And that was the problem right there. Not that he was my mate. Nope, that was a given, though it’d taken me most of the semester to realize it. But I’d marked Rawling in the manner my alpha ancestors had. Without his permission, I’d sunk my teeth into his flesh, and he was understandably furious.
My beast couldn’t see the problem because we loved one another.
But Rawling hadn’t consented to us bonding, and that was my mistake.
My brothers, Lovell and Randolf, yelled if I wanted to shift.
“You’re starting the internship tomorrow and the boss will be riding your ass, so there’ll be no time to take your fur.”
“I’m busy.” I needed to be left alone as I messaged Rawling for the fifty-fifth time. I’d given up calling because that was a one and done, whereas my messages would stay on his phone, unless he’d blocked me or deleted them.
What I wanted was to see my mate, tell him how sorry I was that I did what I did and ask him if he was still nauseous. But my folks had twisted a lot of arms and called in favors to get me this internship, and I couldn’t let them down. Besides, Rawling wanted nothing to do with me, so perhaps it was better to give him space.
My wolf disagreed and whined about how much he missed our mate.
Me too.
The front door slammed. My brothers could never close a door quietly or walk up the stairs without their footsteps mimicking thunder. But now that they were gone, they wouldn’t be back until after nightfall. They'd run and stalk a deer, sometimes for hours, before killing it and allowing their wolves to devour the flesh.
But I had to tell my folks what I’d done because they’d hear it from Atticus’s parents. My roommate had passed Rawling as my mate was leaving college and the mating mate was red and raw on Rawling’s neck. Atticus had busted into the room, ranting about me being a fool and bonding with that filthy latent.
Even if I’d been able to contain my anger, my wolf’s fury spilled over and my fist connected with Atticus’s jaw. He went down, and I stood over him as he struggled to shift and retaliate. But I told him if he said one more word about my mate, I’d shift and go for the jugular.
It was one of the only times I’d seen fear in his eyes.
After bundling my stuff into a suitcase, I told him no matter what happened next semester, I wasn’t rooming with him.
When Atticus wanted to spread salacious gossip about other people, he made sure everyone knew about it. Whereas whatever he’d done to Rawling last semester to almost get kicked out of SU, he kept to himself.
After poking my head out of the room and making sure my brothers were gone, I strolled into the living room. My dad, Rob, was reading, and my alpha father, Laird, was listening to a podcast.
Dad would be more sympathetic to my story, but I was wary of Father’s reaction. He didn’t show his emotions as often, preferring to hide them behind his alpha exterior.
My father removed an earbud. “Are you hungry, Phelan? There are leftovers in the fridge.”
I hadn’t had much of an appetite since arriving home and blamed it on exhaustion.
“Can I talk to you?”
They both sat up, putting the book down and pulling out the remaining ear pod. Their behavior had me wondering if they were aware of what I was going to tell them.
“Sit.” Dad tapped the sofa beside him. “What’s up?”
“A lot, and I hope you won’t be disappointed in me.”
“Never.” My father reached over and patted my knee.
He hadn’t heard what I was about to say, though.
My folks were always supportive, though they were friendly with Atticus’s family who were much like Atticus himself. But shifter hierarchy being what it was and with the wolves at the top of the ladder, my folks did what they had to in order to conform to shifter society norms. And Father had one thing in common with Atticus’s parents, and that was the love of making money.
“You’re not quitting school, are you?” Dad asked.
