Perched atop the platform, Clay and I were engrossed in my paper—or at least, we tried to be. The subject matter, "Werewolf Portrayal in Popular Media," should have been engaging for both of us, given our unique perspective on the topic. But the reality on the ground below—the lean, influential figure of Luke commanding his pack—kept stealing my focus."So, 'Werewolf Portrayal in Popular Media,' huh?" Clay broke into a playful grin, making air quotes with his fingers. "Let me guess, Twitlight didn't get it quite right?"I chuckled. "You have no idea. But hey, at least we don't sparkle in the sun, right?"Clay laughed, his eyes sparkling in a far more magical way than any fictional story. Our playful banter paused as we watched Luke call a break in the training. He sauntered over to a water cooler, gulped down half a bottle in one go, and then let the remaining water cascade over his head."He's distracted," I observed.Clay caught my gaze, his eyes growing serious. "Yeah, I'm sure he

I padded through the forest, the soil yielding softly under my paws, with Lexi perched on my back. I moved deliberately, avoiding jarring her with abrupt turns or unnecessary leaps. My thoughts kept circling back to our intimate moments together, memories replaying in vivid detail. It was beautiful, electrifying, yet a knot of concern tightened in my gut.Had I been too carried away? Clay had warned me to take things slowly, but with Lexi so close in the heat of the moment, I lost all sense of caution. My instincts had seized control, drowning out reason or the protective urge I usually felt toward her.I felt a gentle tug on my ear and then a playful nip. I let out a faux whimper, playful yet clear with confusion."What was that for?" I thought, my eyes meeting hers."To get you to stop worrying about whatever's eating at you," she whispered, as if reading more of my thoughts than I allowed her to.We arrived at the river, and she slid off my back, her touch lingering momentarily a

My body still hummed with the memory of intimacy, every cell vibrating on a frequency that only Luke and Clay seemed to tune into. I lay there on the bed, sandwiched between their solid forms, their slow breaths mimicking the cadence of my own. A sense of wonder washed over me, something like awe but more personal. Twice in four hours, it was both exhilarating and overwhelming. My body was tender to the touch, a testament to the intensity of our connections, physical and otherwise.The sensation of their skin against mine felt like home but different—like discovering a room you never knew existed in a house you'd lived in all your life. Luke, with his rugged edges, and Clay, with his polished charm, were distinct yet strangely complementary. They felt like two halves of a whole, like puzzle pieces that had been waiting for the right moment to interlock. I marveled at the architecture of their bodies. The finely sculpted planes of their muscles, the way every curve and angle aligned

My thoughts were jumbled, swirling around like leaves caught in a whirlpool. One moment, I was on the cold floor of a van, and the next, I felt myself being lifted. Arms, solid and sure, cradled me like I were fragile, and my eyes flickered open. For a brief second, I could have sworn it was Luke carrying me. The idea washed over me like a warm wave, filling me with an inexplicable sense of comfort. But then reality sank its teeth into me. Why would Luke be here? That didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. I was eased into the backseat of a car, still disoriented but becoming increasingly aware that I wasn't where I was supposed to be. The upholstery felt different beneath me—softer, more accommodating like it were trying to lull me into a false sense of security. "Luke?" The word escaped my lips as a whisper, almost a plea, as I leaned against the person beside me. Again, the sensation of familiarity washed over me. It felt like Luke, but I knew deep down that it wasn't. "You me

We stormed back into the house, our collective anger a living, breathing entity. I felt it seep into the walls, heard it echo in the slam of the door behind us. Luke was a step ahead of me; he balled his fist and smashed it into the wall with a guttural roar. Plaster cracked. He turned, his eyes ablaze, and took out his fury on a table next, sending it crashing to the floor. Another swing of his fist found another wall.Inside, a war raged. I was grappling with an urge so strong it felt like a primal force, elemental in its ferocity. I wanted Adam's life; I wanted to see the light extinguish in his eyes, wanted to hear the ragged, futile gasps for breath as I choked the last remnants of life from him. I'd never considered myself a murderer, but what I felt now—this visceral need for retribution—had me questioning every moral code I'd ever followed.I glanced at Luke, who was taking deep, shuddering breaths, trying to rein in his emotions. He was at a precipice, and I knew that his fat