Page 36 of The Werewolf’s Study Date

"Eleven. Deacon counted."

Deacon steps up on my other side and gives one slow nod.

I shove the phone into my jacket pocket. "I'm fine."

"You look like you're waiting on a jury verdict," Tate says.

"I'm watching the party."

"Bullshit. You haven't looked at a single thing out here."

He's right. CU's Halloween is huge, and I usually love it. The entire historic campus is packed with people, string lights hang from every tree, and fog rolls thick across the grass. Up on the east roof of the admin building, the gargoyles have painted themselves gray and frozen in place like stone statues, waiting for freshmen to walk past so they can lunge and make them scream.

Near the dining hall, a bunch of vampires are wearing cheap plastic fangs right over their actual fangs just to be assholes. Some human guy in a terrible fake fur suit is getting cheered on by a table of actual wolves, and two girls in a two-person dragon costume keep stumbling into people because they can't coordinate their feet.

I don't give a damn about any of it tonight. Somewhere in this crowd, Maisie is either heading my way to tell me she wants this, or she isn't.

My wolf catches her scent before I see her.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and my chest pulls hard to the left toward the old quad. I turn, scanning through the lights and smoke from the fire pits, and there she is.

Auburn curls loose over her shoulders. Hands shoved into the pockets of her flannel.

And perched right on top of her head is a pair of fake, furry, dollar-store wolf ears on a plastic headband, tilted crooked.

I freeze.

"What is it?" Tate asks, turning around.

"She's wearing costume ears," I say.

Tate looks, spots Maisie, and immediately covers his mouth with both hands while his shoulders shake.

"Don't start," I warn.

Maisie catches my eye from twenty feet away. She sees my face, and her mouth kicks up into that sharp, confident grin that always hits me straight in the gut.

She doesn't slow down. I can't just stand there, so I meet her halfway.

We stop two feet apart in the grass, the bonfire crackling behind me.

"Nice ears, Pope," I say, my voice rougher than I intend.

"Bought them at the drugstore on Elm for four bucks," she says, tapping the plastic band. "Figured I should try to blend in with the local wildlife."

"You look ridiculous."

"I look festive." Her smile softens, the teasing melting into something steady and deliberate. She takes one more step forward, closing the space between us until I can feel the heat radiating off her skin. "I did the math, Boone. I ran the whole experiment. With the bond, without the bond, with CU's integration history, without any of it."

My pulse pounds so hard it hurts. "And?"

"And you're an idiot if you think I only like you because of magic." Her voice drops lower. "I'd choose you, Boone. I choose you."

The frantic, pacing animal inside my chest just... stops.

All that clawing panic, all that time holding my breath and trying not to push too hard—my wolf goes quiet for the first time in weeks. Not settled. Not completely. But relieved. She chose us.

I reach out, grab her by the waist, and haul her against my chest.