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The moment my brain comes back online, I expect her to fight like a wildcat. She doesn’t. She stiffens but remains in place, quickly hiding the startled expression on her far-too-perfect face. I swear I catch the scent of female arousal.
My wolf roars to life beneath my skin. Suddenly the urge to shift is overwhelming–almost like it was at the height of puberty when I couldn’t control it.
“Let go of me, asshole,” she murmurs, but her voice doesn’t match the words. She’s breathless, and there’s no anger behind the murmured syllables.
Ms. Miller, noticing the interaction, strides over to the lab desk, and I reluctantly ease my hold on the delectable human.
“Is there a problem over here?” I catch the warning in my teacher’s look: Don’t mess with humans.
It’s Lauren who answers, though. “No,” she chirps, seemingly recovered from our interlude. “Abe’s just giving me moral support while I do the lab.”
It’s an obvious challenge to Ms. Miller, who can’t possibly fail to respond.
“Abe, you will help your lab partner by sharing the work.” There’s more of an entreaty than a warning in our teacher’s voice.
I nod and slip my lab goggles over my eyes. “Of course, Ms. Miller. I’m here to learn.”
She and I both know it’s not true, but she accepts it. “Good.” She walks away, and the kids across the lab desk snicker softly.
I ignore them, still turned on by the haughty little human who thinks she can bring me down. I let my hand slide lightly across her upper back. “What can I do to help, princess?”
Lauren
My heart thunders against my chest.
It’s the first time I’ve felt anything in ages.
The feeling is hate.
I hate Abe Oakley.
I mean, I hate this whole school, but Abe Oakley embodies everything that’s backward and wrong about this place.
I should be back in Manhattan with the rest of the Suntan Six–my friends from Landhower Prep school. The ones I go to St. Bart’s with every year. The ones who have completely forgotten about me since I moved.
Instead, I’m drowning in this weird-ass fishbowl of a town. The sensation of being underwater is real.
But I guess I had it even before we came here. I had it from the moment my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.
I just went…numb.
I didn’t even cry at the funeral. I haven’t cried once.
It’s fucked up and wrong.
Something is definitely wrong with me.
So actually, the fact that Abe inspires any feeling in me is a welcome relief. The effect he has on my body is inexplicable. I’m hot all over, with a slow pulse thrumming between my legs.
I have a boyfriend back in New York. One I need to break things off with because I feel absolutely nothing for him. Even before the situation with my mom–before I lost my ability to feel–Luke never inspired feelings like this in me.
“Light the burner and heat that solution,” I order.
To my shock, the jock obeys, but with that cocky grin still firmly in place. Like the only reason he’s helping is to get a further rise out of me.
His pompous arrogance somehow manages to pierce the plasma bubble around my body and elicit a response. Annoyance, mostly.
But today, a little more.
