Her Human His Lycan

Party

Clay POV

I crouched low in the dense woods near campus, branches scraping my arms as I stayed hidden in the shadows. Reports had come in about a cluster of houses deep within these trees—suspected werewolf dens. Someone claimed to have witnessed a shift. My job was simple: confirm or deny. Don’t engage unless absolutely necessary. Follow orders. I hated that part.

The moon broke through the canopy in slivers of pale light, agitating something in me. My blood hummed with impatience. Every instinct screamed to act, to eradicate the beasts that threatened human lives. Beside me, two hunters moved through leaves and dirt, their footsteps steady. Wolf tracks littered the ground—fresh, distinct. Unsettling.

“They’re creeping closer to the city and schools,” Al muttered, concern tightening his voice. “We need to eliminate them before things escalate.”

I agreed silently, fingers brushing my gun. The cold metal grounded me. I wanted action, not observation—but Al reminded me again that orders were orders. Tonight, we watched. Identified the alpha. Determined whether these were organized wolves or rogues.

Then I spotted one. A werewolf in his human skin, walking between trees like he owned the damn forest. And I recognized him—some guy from campus who hit every party. He’d be at one tonight, no doubt. Our plan shifted instantly: track him from the party, gather intel. The more we learned, the better we could strike.

“I know that one,” I whispered. “College student. Goes to all the parties.”

“We figured some of them would blend into campus life,” Al said. “Head back. Watch from the inside. Report anything to me or Skade.”

Great. Babysitter duty. My jaw clenched. “Fantastic.”

“We don’t dive in blind, Clay,” Al warned. “There could be an entire pack nearby. Wolves rarely travel alone.”

“I know,” I muttered, though irritation simmered.

His gaze hardened. “And keep control. You lose your temper too easily. No heroics unless a werewolf is about to kill someone. Follow the damn rules.”

“I won’t break them,” I said through my teeth.

“The boss has given you enough chances.”

I inhaled sharply. “Fine.”

Leaving the woods behind, I stalked back toward campus, each step grinding my frustration deeper. Watching a wolf without doing a thing about it? Torture. But rules were rules—for now.

By the time I reached my apartment, night had swallowed everything. I flicked on the dim lights, the stale air greeting me with its usual musty emptiness. I opened the cabinet. Cheap whiskey. Stale beer.

“Lovely,” I muttered.

I grabbed what I could and headed out. The party pulsed from a block away—music thumping, people shouting, the whole house glowing in neon hues. Inside, the heat suffocated, and sweat and alcohol mixed into one oppressive scent.

“Yo, Clay! You came!” someone shouted.

“Unfortunately,” I muttered.

Then I saw them—Emma, Kris, and Melody—dancing in a crowded circle of students. Instantly, my pulse spiked. Something irrational and fierce clawed at my chest. Anger. Jealousy. Possession. I crushed the cup in my hand before I even realized it.

“Dude, chill,” Tom said with raised brows.

I grabbed another drink, trying to shake the feeling, but Liz materialized beside me like a disease.

“Oh Clay, I’m so glad you’re here,” she purred, tugging my hand. “Come dance.”

But my eyes stayed glued to Emma.

“Don’t,” I said flatly, “unless you want witnesses when I turn you down.”

Liz’s expression curdled. “You’re actually into that freak?” she spat.

Tom watched, intrigued. “She’s something else, huh?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Something.”

“I didn’t think any girl could get your attention,” Tom said. “But doubt she’s the one-night-stand type.”

“Good,” I snapped. “This campus has enough sluts.”

I tried to refocus on my target—Ryan, the werewolf. He slipped into the party, and my hunter’s instinct flared. I watched him, tracking every move, every interaction.

Then shouting outside cut through the noise.

I stepped out and saw Liz dumping her drink all over Emma’s dress, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin. Emma stood unnervingly still—too still. Holding herself back.

“How immature,” I muttered.

Liz immediately latched onto me. “Just chatting!” she chimed sweetly. “Now that you’re here, come back inside—”

I pushed her off, disgusted. Then I took off my jacket and handed it to Emma. Our fingers brushed. A faint tingle shot up my arm.

“Emma, you live on campus, right?”

She nodded.

“I’ll walk you.”

Melody jumped in. “We can take her.”

“I’m heading that way anyway,” I cut in, eyes locked on Emma.

Emma’s voice trembled slightly. “If you could walk with me, I’d appreciate it.”

Liz exploded. “You’re really walking that freak home?”

Annoyance snapped through me like lightning. “The only freak here is the one screaming in a driveway,” I said coldly.

Emma hurried off, clearly wanting distance from all of this. “You really don’t have to leave for me,” she said, trying to hand back the jacket. “I’m fine.”

“Keep it. It’s cold.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

We walked in silence until the night softened around us.

“There’s a late-night pub nearby,” I offered.

“No thanks,” she said politely. “And… it’d be inappropriate anyway. You’re dating Liz.”

I huffed a laugh. “I’m not dating her. I’m trying to get rid of her.”

“She thinks otherwise.” Emma’s voice sharpened. “I’ve heard all about you already. Apparently you’re known for being a jerk and using girls for one-night stands. So forgive me if I assume you had something to do with her being attached.”

The hit landed hard—unexpected and direct.

She continued, “Not all girls can sleep with someone and walk away without feelings. Maybe try talking to her respectfully. Be the bigger person.”

I swallowed that one. Damn. She wasn’t wrong.

“I get what you’re saying,” I managed.

“Good.”

We reached the apartment building. She returned my jacket. “Thank you again. Have a relaxing night.”

She stepped inside. I followed.

“Why are you following me?” she asked sharply.

“I live here,” I said, amused.

“Oh. Sorry.”

I couldn’t help a chuckle. “Still awake? One more drink? My treat. Call it payment for the lecture.”

She hesitated—then nodded. “Fine. I need to learn where the store is anyway.”

We walked. Inside, she grabbed orange juice of all things.

“No beer?” I asked.

“This is fine,” she said simply.

Outside on the benches, we talked. For the first time all night, something in me unwound.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“A small town in New Hampshire,” she said softly. “Where are you from?”

“Maine.”

She drank straight from the jug. “So much better.”

“Don’t drink much?”

“Not anymore,” she said. “I don’t plan to again.”

“So no more parties?”

“Nope. One and done.”

“You’re different,” I said before I could stop myself.

She smiled faintly. “Everyone is.”

The night air settled around us. Soft. Strange. Comfortable.

“Well, Clay, it was nice talking. I have to be up early.”

Before she could go, words burst out of my mouth. “Coffee.”

Her brows rose. “What about it?”

“You like it black. I’ll bring you one tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” she said, turning—then paused. “Actually… one condition.” She faced me again, eyes bright. “Join my group for Mythology. You don’t have one, right?”

I blinked, surprised.

“Maybe think twice before calling them nerds again,” she teased.

I couldn’t help the small smile. “You drive a hard bargain. Fine. Deal.”

She headed toward the entrance, disappearing inside with soft footsteps.

I leaned back on the bench, exhaling slowly.

What the hell was I getting myself into?