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Why are you passing? I heard Nash's confused voice in my head, but I ignored it.

I managed to get rid of the ball before any of the others could even get close to me.

I swear, if even one of these guys tackled me, I wouldn't hesitate to punch them in the face.

Maybe I should have gone to swim practice after all...

Noah wanted to catch the ball, but someone from the opposing team was faster. He tackled Noah to the ground with such force that a loud “Ooh” went through the crowd.

I stopped and stared at the tall guy who was obviously not part of the pack. However, I couldn't see much of his face through his helmet.

“Damn it, Noah!” Nash shouted, and the coach blew his whistle. “What are you doing?”

“Boy!” the coach yelled, and I realized too late that he wasn't running toward Noah, but toward me.

Lonely Boy

The Black Keys

Noah pulled himself up, and the other guy stepped back, took off his helmet, and was soon being thrown up in the air by his cheering teammates.

He was tall and had champagne-blond hair that fell over his forehead.

A... human? At least, he had smelled human on the field.

Who the fuck is this guy?

Noah was eyeing him up with hostility, and I knew right away that the two knew each other.

“Why the hell didn't you follow through?!” I heard the coach behind me and immediately turned away, taking off my helmet because the damn thing was annoying.

I was definitely not going to apologize to him.

“It's my fault!” Noah shouted, and the coach immediately lost interest in me and ran over to Noah, just to lecture him.

“Who is that?” I asked Hunter, who wore the number seven, pointing to the human.

“Quentin,” he said. “He's really good. Second-best player.”

I raised both eyebrows.

“He's my damn professor of molecular biology,” Noah laughed as he strode past me, helmet in hand, his very short dark blond hair completely sweaty. “And by the way, did I mention that you play really tactically, Wheeler?”

Laughing, Noah leaned on his knees.

“Shut up, Schmidt,” I replied, shaking my head.

I watched the professor put his helmet back on and memorized his number. Eleven. Some strange gut feeling told me to keep an eye on him.

My gaze slid over the grandstands. A mistake. Although my cock had relaxed again and I had managed to push the images of her out of my head, just her gaze on me was enough to bring back that damn nervousness.

I would gladly have gotten rid of her. But first, I had promised Emely to leave these bloodsuckers alone, and second, she was a Legacy. I couldn't just get rid of her without having a whole clan on my back.

She stared in my direction as if she had forgotten my warning from yesterday. And it made me fucking angry.

Who did she think she was? Did she really want to get to know me? Feel my claws on her throat?

Just the thought of my claws against her soft skin sent blood rushing back into my pants.