SEBASTIAN’S POV
My boots hit the lecture hall’s polished floor, the echo swallowed by the hum of students settling into their seats. I straightened my blazer, my pulse steady despite the weight of thirty pairs of eyes.
“Good morning, class,” I said, my voice cutting through the chatter. “I’m Sebastian Wolfe, your new history professor.”
The words rolled out smooth, practiced but my wolf stirred, a restless claw scraping my chest. A shift, subtle but sharp, like a scent caught on the wind. My green eyes scanned the room, searching for the source, and landed on her.
Red hair, wild and loose, framed a pale face, her green eyes wide with shock. The girl from last night—My supposed Mate—sat in the back row, her fingers frozen on a notebook, her lips parted. Maximus, my wolf, stilled, a calm I hadn’t felt in years, as if she were a tether grounding its chaos. My breath hitched.
Of all the fucked-up twists fate could throw, it chose this: the girl I’d fucked in a frenzy of tequila, the same girl my wolf recognised as my mate, was my student. I could still picture her in that blue wet dress last night, the way it hid nothing; but now, in jeans and a faded sweater, she looked fragile, breakable. But those eyes, burning with recognition, told me she remembered every thrust, every moan.
I tore my gaze away, my jaw tightening. Focus, damn it. I launched into my lecture, an introduction to history’s underbelly—wars, betrayals, secrets. “Some of you know the dark side of history,” I said, my voice low, my eyes flicking to her.
A tease, a dare, hinting at our shared sin. Her cheeks flushed, a soft pink, her gaze dropping at her desk. She knew what I meant, and the spark in my gut told me she felt it too—the pull, the mate bond I hadn’t acknowledged but couldn’t ignore.
Maximus growled, pleased, but I shoved it down. She was nineteen, a student, a fucking disaster waiting to happen. I’d lose my job—even though I don’t necessarily need this job, I’d also blow my cover in the human world, everything I’d built to escape BloodMoon pack’s claws.
Veron, my father, would love this—a reason to drag me back, to break me again. I gripped the podium, my knuckles whitening, and droned on about medieval trade, my words mechanical. Students scribbled notes, oblivious to the storm in my chest. Vanessa, in the front row, her black hair gleaming, shot me a smile, her blue eyes predatory. I rolled my eyes in disgust as I turned back to the rest of the students to give them an essay. She never knows when to give up her pursuit, does she?
Two hours later the bell rang, a shrill blade slicing the tension. “Submit your introductory essays on my desk before you leave,” I said, my voice steady despite the chaos in my head.
Students surged forward, papers rustling, voices overlapping. Ms. Red hung back, her movements slow, her bag slung over her shoulder. I watched her, Maximus pacing, urging me to close the distance. She approached, her essay in hand, her eyes avoiding mine. Others milled around, dropping papers, but my world narrowed to her—the scent of jasmine and rain, the faint tremor in her fingers.
She slid the paper onto the stack, her red hair brushing her cheek. I leaned forward, my voice a whisper. “Thank You, Miss….”
Her head snapped up, her cheeks flaming, a blush so fierce it rivaled her hair. Her lips parted, but no words came, her eyes wide, caught like a deer in my sights.
Maximus rumbled, pleased, but I kept my face neutral, scanning her paper. “Isabella Hart,” I read in a whisper, her name felt like a weight on my tongue.
She nodded, mute, her hands twisting the strap of her bag.
A shadow loomed behind her—Vanessa, her heels clicking, her minions trailing like vultures. I’d seen her unending show of stupidity during class, her nasty smirk that felt like a warning, but hadn’t acknowledged her presence. Now, she sauntered up, her essay dangling from manicured fingers, her smile venomous.
“Professor Wolfe,” she purred, leaning close, her perfume choking. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Vanessa,” I said, my tone flat, my eyes cold. She beamed, thrilled I remembered her name, but I wasn’t playing her game. She turned to Isabella, still frozen beside me, and her smile sharpened.
“What are you still doing here?” Vanessa asked, her voice dripping scorn. “Oh… wait a second, don’t tell me you’ve found a new target already? Another guy to spread your legs for?”
Maximus snarled, a surge of rage I barely contained. Isabella’s face crumpled, shame flooding her eyes. Why wasn’t she fighting back the allegations? I mean she’s not a whore who goes about sleeping around, I was her very first. Last night, I felt it, her tightness, the blood on the sheets, even she confirmed it. Vanessa’s words were lies, but they cut deep. I opened my mouth, but Vanessa wasn’t done.
“What, you can’t even defend yourself, huh?” she tainted, her minions giggling. “Ain’t you tired of whoring around? Or you want another nude pic plastered everywhere?”
My head snapped to her. What nude picture? Isabella didn’t say anything as she turned away, her shoulders hunching, her hand swiping at her eyes. Tears. She was crying, and Maximus went berserk, clawing my insides, howling to protect her. I didn’t understand it—why her pain hit me like a sliver blade, why my wolf saw her as ours despite the fact that she’s human. The mate bond pulsed, a truth I couldn’t face.
Vanessa smirked, tossing her paper on the pile. “Oh, did I hurt your feelings, ginger witch? God forbid a girl just remind you of your ongoing crises.”
Isabella bolted, her sneakers squeaking, her red hair streaming as she fled the room. The door slammed, it sounded like a gunshot in my ears. Maximus roared, demanding I chase her, shield her, rip Vanessa’s throat out. I clenched my fists, my nails biting my palms, anchoring me. Vanessa laughed, her minions echoing, but I turned on her, my eyes flashing gold as I tried my best to sound cool and unfamiliar to her.
“Enjoying the show, Miss?” I asked with a growl, my voice deep in anger.
Vanessa’s smile faltered, her eyes narrowing, but she sauntered away, her heels clicking. The room emptied, leaving me alone at the podium, papers scattered, the air thick with her scent—jasmine, rain, and salt from her tears. I sank into a chair, my head in my hands. What the fuck was happening? Isabella Hart wasn’t just a student, she wasn’t just a one-night stand. fucking human. She’s a kid, a virgin I’d defiled, now caught in Vanessa’s crosshairs and whatever shitstorm those photos stirred. She’s the girl Maximus can’t stop calling mate even though she’s a
The reason why I came here was to find the said Moonborn that I was cursed to protect, but here I am on my very first day, locked in a battle of confusion that even the Moon Goddess would chicken out from.
Maximus whined, urging me to find her, but I stayed rooted, my mind racing. I grabbed the essays as I arranged them properly. This was not part of my plan as a professor here, in fact this was not on my bingo card to fuck a stranger who is not only my student but also weak, and to run into my freaking ex-girlfriend who does not understand the meaning of ‘we are done.’
