I’ve been dodging Knox for two days and the bond is making it nearly impossible.
He can feel me through the mark – not just the heartbeat anymore but my location, my mood, the spike in my pulse every time I think about Thursday at 8 PM, which is often enough that I’m sure the bond is sending him a constant feed of data that translates roughly to “your mate is aroused and it’s not about you.”
I’ve been taking alternate routes to class and picking up extra shifts at The Grind House and leaving rooms thirty seconds before he enters them, and the effort of avoiding a werewolf who can track you by scent across a city block is exhausting in a way that has nothing to do with physical fitness.
He texted me fourteen times today. I answered three of them with variations of “studying” that became
