Chapter 47

Andrew

I was leaning against the doorframe, hands buried deep in my pockets, acting like a shark just waiting for the current to shift. The moment I heard her door handle click, I pushed off the wall with the casual grace. I was perfectly in stride beside her when she emerged, turning to head for the stairs. She shot me a look so cold it could have flash-frozen the hallway, but I didn't blink.

"Feeling better this morning, Rue?" I asked, my voice bright enough to be annoying, and hooked an arm around her, squeezing her shoulder.

She looked down at my hand like it was a contagious rash. The next thing I knew, it was a blur of wolfen speed: she caught my pointing finger, twisted it until the joint screamed in protest, and twirled out of my reach with the agility of a gymnast. Despite the sharp fire of pain radiating up my arm, I couldn't help but notice how her skirt flared as she spun, how impossibly graceful she looked, and I couldn't stop my brain from wondering if she was as good at dancing as she was at violence.

"Ouh! You almost snapped my finger, you psycho!" I pulled my hand away, cradling it. Probably calling her a 'psycho' wouldn't score me any points, but really – who else reacts like that?

She stood her ground, feet braced wide, hands planted on her hips like a warrior queen about to declare war.

"First of all: your stinky paws are not allowed on my body. Second of all, my morning is even shittier than yesterday because you’re the first thing I saw. And third? Don’t whine like a baby. You have wolfen healing, Alpha healing at that; you’ll be good as new in two minutes, so shut the fu.ck up. I’m not a psycho; you’re the one for touching me."

She gestured so vividly I felt like I was being slapped by the air itself. There was something undeniably thrilling about her spicy, spiteful attitude; it was like trying to pet a cactus and being surprised when you got pricked. I couldn't help but smile. She frowned, clearly confused, because that wasn't the reaction she was aiming for.

I flashed her my most devastating, charming smile, and I watched her jaw drop. What a lovely sight – I’d managed to leave her speechless. Mmm, my dick would fit perfectly in that mouth– Okay, too far, Andrew. Backtrack.

"Come on," I said, putting my hands back in my pockets and turning to walk away without looking back. "I’ll buy you coffee on the way. Might brighten your mood." I bet her jaw was currently hitting the floor.

We were already driving when I noticed her shoelace had come undone. I reached over, squeezed her thigh, and let my hand rest there. I saw in reer mirror how guys in the back exchanged meaningful looks.

"Your shoelace is open," I pointed out.

"Do you want a broken arm this time?" she sneered, looking down at my hand like it was a piece of rotting trash. Wow, the girl had power. Didn't she feel the static electricity sizzling off her skin whenever I touched her? Wasn't that supposed to be the siren song that turned her on? I suspected this bond was malfunctioning – like a radio stuck on static. I squeezed her thigh one last time before retreating.

"You wouldn't manage it, my hands are too fast. Look!" I flicked my hand in a blur of wolf speed making sounds like a ninja. She watched me, entirely unimpressed, one eyebrow arched in a challenge, until her hand shot out like a striking viper and caught mine. What the fuck? She wasn't supposed to be fast enough to catch me.

"Not fast enough," she grumbled, tossing my hand back at my chest. The guys in the back chuckled. Shucks. I grumbled inwardly.

"You’re very good with threats and manipulation," I said, shifting my tone to tease her again. "But are you capable of a normal conversation?"

"Oh, I'm perfectly capable of that," she retorted, "but it's reserved for people who possess integrity, respect for boundaries, and an overall decent character. Things you clearly lack, you narcissistic brat." She batted her eyelashes in such an exaggerated, mocking way that I couldn't help but chuckle. On any other day, this insult would have set my temper off, but today felt different. It was like I could finally see through her – it was all just a manipulative act, a shield she used to provoke a reaction. Oh, no, not today, Missy.

"Andrew is actually a good person," John chimed in from the back. I smiled even brighter. My man.

"Your opinion doesn't count, you're his lackey," Prue deadpanned without sparing him a glance.

"Andrew has anger issues, but he is a nice guy," Greg added.

"I don't have anger issues!" I argued. Since when? They both sputtered from the backseat. Eh, idiots.

"I'm a nice guy!" I flashed her that smile – the one that usually made girls weak in the knees – or so they said.

She did a fake-puking gesture and bent down to finally tie her shoe. I rested my hand on the back of her seat, and when she sat back up and leaned against it, I started massaging her neck and shoulder.

"You need to relax, you're so tight," I said, layering my tone with double meaning, smirking at her. She leaned forward to dodge my touch, her eyes sharpening into daggers.

"Stop! Don't touch me!" she barked. My hand trailed up her back anyway.

"Get your hands off me!" she screamed. I moved my hand to the steering wheel, feigning innocence.

"What, afraid of my touch, little mouse?" I teased.

"No, but your paws stink and I don't want your stench on me." Was she talking about my Alpha scent? I frowned at her.

"Boys are gross. You hold your di.cks to pee and never wash your hands. I don't need those gross germs on my clean body."

She word-vomited the insult so casually it made me blink, while the guys in the back erupted into a fit of hysterical laughter. Even I had to chuckle. Wow, she really had a lovely impression of men, didn't she? As if she’d grown up with brothers who never bathed. I honestly had no idea if she even had a brother, but she certainly had a bone to pick with the entire male population.

"My hands are perfectly sanitized, for your information," I countered, flashing a mock-sinister grin. "I’m an Alpha, Rue. We don’t do 'germs.' We do dominance." I winked at her. She stared at me like I’d just crawled out of a sewer. The silence in the car grew thick, punctuated only by the low rumble of the engine and the stifled giggles of my pack brothers in the back.

Prue looked away, her gaze fixing on the passing blur of houses, but I didn't miss the faint, tell-tale tremor in her jaw. She was trying so hard to compartmentalize me – to shove me into the 'gross nuisance' box – but the bond wasn't having it. I could practically smell the irritation radiating off her, her intoxicating yet strange mix of citrus, charcoal and earth soaked with rain water – the scent that made my own blood run hot.

When we finally pulled into the student lot, I didn't let her hop out immediately. I leaned over, my presence effectively pinning her into her seat, and lowered my voice.

"You can keep acting like I'm the plague, Prudence, but we both know why you're really flustered."

She snapped her head toward me, her eyes flashing with lethal intent.

"I'm not flustered I'm geniunely worried and stressed about myself because I'm trapped in a tin can with three brainless apes," she spat, though her cheeks were undeniably flushed.

"Keep telling yourself that," I murmured, and finally, I let her go as she jumped out of the car and sprinted towards doors. Run, little mouse, run. You are going home with me anyway. I smirked satisfied ready to start my day.