All Chapters of Alpha's Feral Kitten : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

TRISTAN I’m sitting at our usual table in the cafe at the Student Union, when Dominic and Billie finally arrive. I watch them closely to see how the insular students at C. U. react to her presence—and how she and Dom are getting along. He was the best choice of my friends to draw her out of her shell. They seem to have some banter, judging by her smile. She’s wearing a ribbed mid length black knit dress with a plunging neckline, a slit up the side, a pair of knee-high boots, and the moonstone I’ve been keeping for my girl since I was 18 years old dangles from her neck, along with a thin gray lace scarf. A red ribbon is tied in her hair. I’ve had dreams about my fated mate ever since the prophecy when I was 15, and the reality is so much more beautiful than I ever imagined her to be. I wonder what she thinks of the inscription on the back of the moonstone. It looks like a jewelry designer name, Mo fhíorghra. Someday I’ll tell her it’s pronounced “moe here-graw”, and that its literal

BILLIE After the unsettling encounter with Spader, Raven and Thorne escort me to their art class, where Raven has me sit on a stool while he does several sketches and Thorne sculpts in a corner using metal and a blowtorch. Afterward, Thorne escorts me to the Performing Arts building, where I meet all my dance instructors and my advisor, and have a full morning of classes. Fleming is waiting outside afterward to escort me to lunch, then we have English together. After the Phantom shows up in my history class, I realize this can't be a coincidence. These are first year classes, and the guys are beyond that. “Tell me the truth,” I say to Thorne during my Philosophy elective. “You guys aren't even enrolled in any of these classes, are you?” “Nope,” he says companionably. “We're just keeping an eye on our newest prospective member. Don't worry, it's sanctioned by the administration.” “Really?” I ask doubtfully. “Really really. There's a lot about werewolf college that's different from

BILLIE I snap my jaws shut while Thorne gives me an amused but sympathetic look. I shake my head at him and follow Tristan down the stairs. “What’s with the helmet?” I ask. “You’ll see.” Talkative, this one. We walk outside over to a spot near the end and stop at a motorcycle. Not one of the huge, Harley Davidson, ear-splitting hogs from my old neighborhood, or a moped in fluorescent sport colors, but a stylishly small red and black roadster with the name Triumph on one side. It looks retro, like something Indiana Jones or Captain America would be riding around on during World War II. He helps me adjust the helmet on my head. “I should’ve known you’d ride in on a motorbike,” I tell him. He puts his own helmet on. “Definitely. It’s a Triumph Speed 400. It goes a little fast. Are you ready?” “As I’ll ever be.” He gets on and I carefully climb on behind him. He smells like musk and leather and that earthy spice that seems to be all his own. He takes my hands and wraps my arms tig

TRISTAN I’m already fucking it all up. When I saw that painting, I couldn’t take it. Raven is good, incredibly talented. He caught the essence of her and trapped it on that canvas, and it was so beautiful my teeth ached. I couldn’t stand it. In that moment, I hated the thought that anyone else could see how beautiful she is. And it wasn't right. She’s right. I’m a jealous, possessive asshole. Billie should shine in the light. Who am I to drag her down into the dark where no one can see? Most of all, I hated not touching her. I've spent all week trapped in a power struggle with her, trying to be patient with her, desperate to touch her but holding myself back. So I kissed her, and she slapped me. Thorne pats my back. “Good job there, buddy.” I’d bite his head off, but I know he’s right. I fucked up. “What do I do now?” I ask them. “Grovel? I don’t know if I know how to grovel.” “First, she’s right. That was a head fuck back there. You can’t tell her she’s nothing and expect her

18+ Explicit Content BILLIE “What?” he asks, and thankfully just then our food arrives. I shake my head as if to say “it’s nothing” (because it is) and immediately start stuffing my mouth with food. He cuts into his steak and red liquid pours out. I make an involuntary noise. “No rare meat for you, huh?” He wriggles his eyebrows and, embarrassingly, I laugh so abruptly I snort. “Don’t worry, I have a strong stomach,” I tell him. “Let’s test that theory,” he says, and takes the bottle of ketchup, flips it open, and pours it on his eggs. “Oh ew,” I say, and cringe at how prissy I sound. “That’s what I thought. A total princess.” I concentrate on eating my normal breakfast since he’s got me so flustered, all my comebacks are dirty. He was my first kiss and I ended it by slapping him. Which I still think was justified, but… “I’m sorry for slapping you,” I blurt out. “That was uncalled for.” “No, no no, it was called for. I’m sorry for my mouth getting away from me. What I sai