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I was getting in his head, which was exactly where I wanted to be.

Attending a school designed specifically for monsters had its perks and one night, those perks worked in my favor. I’d followed Tate right back to his dorm, watching until a light turned on and I saw a familiar bundle of brown curls bobbing throughout his bedroom.

My eyes landed on one of the gargoyle perches—strategically placed right outside Tate’s window.

Just a few seconds… I told myself. I flew up to the perch, wrapping my wings around me to blend into the night. I could see everything, and could hear most things.

Tate didn’t even glance my way, the poor soul. He exhaled a heavy breath, stripped the hoodie that had become the bane of my existence, and collapsed onto the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. Anatomy on its own had been a challenge that day, and I could safely assume that the rest of his classes were just as rocky.

I stole a moment to admire him. Tate’s lithe body had been constantly hidden under the damned hoodie, even in labs. If he wasn’t already, he was perfect without the obstructive garment.

He still wore a dark T-shirt, but it was fitted enough to show me the shape lingering beneath. The hem rode up to expose the soft, pale skin of his stomach. I leaned closer to the window to try and see how far down those freckles went, and nearly fell off the perch in the process.

By the time I recovered, Tate’s fingers were teasing the button on his jeans.

My heart kicked to life in my chest. Surely he wasn’t going to…

I couldn’t be that lucky. Not this early.

Don’t get me wrong, I knew he got himself off on a regular basis—the thrum of his pulse beneath his skin told me that much when he showed up to an early morning class. Most people I knew spent their morning showers doing the same thing.

Then I began to suspect what the pictures in his head looked like while he was doing it. The way that flush deepened when I would walk into a room and lay eyes on him for the first time that day–as far as he was aware.

The way he would squirm if I shifted too close to him during class.

Just like fate had written, Tate was attracted to me.

I just needed him to admit it.

For now, though, I’d be damned if I was going to interrupt the show that my sweet little human was about to perform for me.

Just when I thought he wouldn’t, he popped the button open. My lungs ceased to function.

I drew my knees up to my chest, making the already noticeable heaviness between my legs even more uncomfortable. It could wait.

Tate worked slowly, ghosting his fingers over the dusting of hair leading down from his belly button, darker than the hair on his head but no less attractive.

I licked my lips, itching to taste the soft skin beneath my tongue.

Then Tate lowered his zipper, and his hips became interested, wriggling against the air and searching for friction. My hearing wasn’t that of a werewolf, per se, but it was light years beyond the capabilities of the average human—enough for me to hear the soft whimpers that fell from Tate’s lips.

The sound warmed my entire body, burning a path straight to my cock.

He slipped his hand into his pants, palming over the bulge there with nothing more than his underwear acting as a barrier. Sighing, he rolled his hips into his hand. My own ached to reach out and touch him, to feel his heat for myself.

I’d make it so perfect for him, show him a pleasure that his own hand never could.

I wondered…

No, now was not the time to enrage myself by thinking about Tate with other people.

Other men.

He was mine now. None of that mattered.

Tate whimpered again and pulled his hand free to shimmy his pants and underwear down swiftly.

His pretty cock sprang free so hard that it slapped against his stomach and left a sticky string of precum behind. Tate’s gorgeous eyes peeled open, and he stared down at himself before wrapping a hand around his shaft. I watched, studying, learning—memorizing every movement that made him tick. He liked a thumb against his slit, if the kick of his hips was anything to go by.