MILLICENT
Xander sat two rows in front, leaning back in his chair with his long legs stretched out, scrolling lazily through his phone like none of this was worth his time. He looked bored, blank-faced.
But I smelled it. I knew what it was. My jaw clenched, my fingers digging into my desk as I stared at the back of his head, willing him to feel me burning holes through his skull.
My wolf got restless, snarling. He reeked of someone else and I was supposed to sit here and pretend I didn’t notice? Pretend I'm not pissed he rejected me?
Professor Redgrave’s voice droned on, explaining something about historical wolf politics, her tone smug as if her opinion was gospel. I was barely listening until she said something that snapped my attention like a whip.
“That is why rogues are not born
