All Chapters of SEDUCING MY RELUCTANT LYCAN PROFESSOR: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

RAVENNA’S POV. Since morning, the ring on my finger had felt different. It was the same silver band Lucas pressed into my palm last night. The same one that made my chest feel too full when he slipped it on behind the packhouse, his breath warm against my ear. But something had shifted. Something in the air between us that I couldn’t find no matter how hard I looked. I pushed the feeling down. That was what I always did. The pack hall was full tonight. Heat and noise and the smell of roast meat, pine, and too much perfume. String lights across the ceiling made everything look gold. Laughter bounced off the stone walls. I moved through it looking for him. My dress brushed my knees with every step. I smiled at the people who nodded at me and kept my chin up the way my mother taught me. Straight back. Don’t look small. Don’t look like an omega with no wolf. “Where’s Lucas?” I asked a girl near the door. She wore the same bright red lipstick Sandy always wore. The girl shrugged and

Ravenna’s POV. I knew I had made a mistake before I was fully awake. The bed wasn’t mine. The pillow held warmth that wasn’t my own, and a scent I recognized before I had the context to place it, clean and deep, that same rain-and-forest quality that had been the only steady thing during the worst of the previous night. That was when the memories arrived. Not gradually. All at once, in a single unordered rush that made me push upright too fast and grip the sheets to keep from pitching sideways. The room. The rope. The drug. Him. I had been the one who reached for him. I knew that without being able to deny it. He had caught me when I fell and I had pressed closer, desperate for something to stop the burning, and he had been steady and careful and I had been none of those things. He was still asleep beside me, lying on his back, face relaxed in a way that made him look entirely different from the controlled, deliberate thing he had been in that room. Like two separate people shari

Ravenna’s POV. I had my hand on the door when something stopped me. Not a sound. Not a word from him. Just something that arrived in the back of my chest, a pull that had been building since I walked into this room and hadn’t stopped. I stood with my fingers around the handle and paid attention to it for the first time instead of pushing it away. It was coming from him. I had ignored it since last night because the alternative was impossible. People like him didn’t walk into ordinary packs pretending to be ordinary professors. People like me didn’t wake up feeling pulled toward strangers. Every explanation I had tried to give myself had fallen apart the moment I stepped into this office. If I walked out now, I would spend the rest of my life wondering whether I had stood in front of the answer and been too afraid to ask. I turned back. He was watching me, leaning against his desk, arms crossed, expression carefully neutral. Waiting for me to leave so the conversation could b

Ravenna’s POV. My mother’s shift ended at nine-thirty. By eleven, she still hadn’t come home. I had been awake since ten, sitting at the edge of my bed in the dark, listening for the front gate. She was never late. Not once in all the years I had been paying attention, not even on the nights she picked up double shifts and came home smelling like antiseptic and fatigue, still making her way to my room to check the light was on. I called her phone. It rang out. Called again. Nothing. By eleven-fifteen I had my shoes on. The streets were quiet and dim at that hour, lit by the kind of lamps that flickered more than they shone. I flagged down a taxi and sat in the back counting streetlights, my hands folded in my lap, telling myself there was a simple explanation. A difficult patient. A colleague needing cover. Some late-night emergency that had kept her at the ward without time to call. The hospital doors opened automatically when I arrived, the antiseptic smell landing immediately,

Ravenna’s POV. The bottle was half-buried in the gutter and I had it in my hand before I’d thought it through. I bent down slowly, letting my body go small and uncertain, letting him read it as surrender. He took a step forward with his weight already committed, already sure of how this ended. I straightened and hurled it at his face with everything I had. It shattered inches from his cheek. The crack split through the quiet street and bought me three seconds. I didn’t waste them. I turned and ran into the alley behind me, not thinking, just moving. These streets had been my route home from school for eight years. I knew where the fences gapped, where the alleys cut through to the main road, where the space between two buildings was wide enough for someone my size and narrow enough to slow someone larger. I let my feet remember what my mind was too wired to calculate. Their voices rose behind me. “She went this way!” I cut left through a yard I had crossed a hundred times as a