Alpha's Feral Kitten のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

BILLIE Fleming insists we need smoothie bowls after all that, and we stop at a trendy place. When we get back to the Rock House, he helps me carry everything up. I unlock the door to my suite, and jump out of my skin when Raven and Thorne come around the corner behind us. “Sorry, just wanted to know if you had a fruitful trip. And I’m to give you this.” He hands me a bright pink card. You are Invited To the Underground Lair for a night of Music and Debauchery This invitation only good for the bearer of the name Billie Marie Black The Phantom I turn the card around. On the back, there’s a message in cursive writing. Come to the cellar sometime, we can make music together. I’ve heard you sing to yourself in your studio, and your unique voice deserves attention. I won’t bite, I promise. -Will “The party is on Saturday. It’s kind of a big deal for anyone new to get an invitation,” Raven says. “I’ve never been to a party,” I say. “I don’t really know how they work. Do I bring

TRISTAN “Sex kitten, of all the—” “You heard me. Now eat. I won’t force you to be alone with me.” I tip my chin behind her. She turns around and sees Fleming and Will walking towards us. She turns back to me. “Thanks.” “Thank you for wearing my gift.” Her eyes flutter wide open and she self-consciously touches the moonstone, but then my boys have arrived and she doesn’t have time to say anything to that. Of course, that was my intent. I want her to think about her actions without any time to prevaricate from the truth or make excuses. I want her to know I see her. And I really do want her to know it’s okay to accept my gifts, that nothing will be forced on her, there are no obligations here. She’s a feral little kitten, and I want her to start coming to me voluntarily, not just when I coax her. But there will have to be lots of coaxing, first. I am infinitely fucking patient. Bloodlust, and its cousin, uncontrollable sexual frenzy, are a problem for young werewolves in my comm

TRISTAN “Tristan, don't forget to take the pan of brownies I made for the boys back to campus with you.” My mother, Luna Moira O'Donnell, takes the last of the supper dishes into the kitchen. My father, Alpha Conner O'Donnell of the Triple Moon Wolf Pack, is rinsing them and loading the dishwasher. Usually, the whole pack would gather for dinner at the packhouse on my parents’ property, a sort of ritzy country club place. But once a week, we have a private dinner here at my parents’ home in Tidepool Cove, and all servants are dismissed, so I'm treated to the unusual sight of the elegant Luna and powerful Alpha washing dishes. It's my favorite part of the week. Well, until I met Billie. Which reminds me, I need to tell my parents. “Mom? Dad? I met her.” My mother drops a plate, which my father grabs with his incredible reflexes before it shatters. “You met the girl in the prophecy? Your fated mate?” he asks me. “Her name is Billie. I'm almost certain she's a hybrid. She ran into

TRISTAN For the first week of school, everything continues much the same as it began on Monday. Dominic takes Billie to breakfast, and the three of us eat together, with the others stopping by. Then Raven walks her to the Performing Arts building, where Fleming later arrives–always early, just in case–to take her to lunch, then History with the Phantom. And so on. After class, we all eat in the Underground dining hall at the central table. I've had a time of it keeping Billie from helping out in the kitchens or doing her own laundry, which she seems to think is something everyone should do. She's not used to being surrounded by rich men with trust funds who've never had to sweep a floor. She's also befriended the other human scholarship students, Rachel and Sophie, and insisted they sit at our table. It’s getting crowded, and Sophie giggles at literally everything that comes out of Dominic’s mouth, who doesn't mind at all. Then after dinner, or sometimes in a free period during th

BILLIE I spend the rest of the evening going through my new clothes. I finally pick out a knit red ribbed dress with a pleated skirt and a sash tied in the back, the moonstone necklace and earrings, a red scarf, and a red cloche hat to pull down over my ears in the wind. The next morning, I braid my hair in two braids, then put them in buns low on my head below my ears, so it almost looks like I have a bob, then pull my red hat over it. The effect is very 1930s Hollywood. I wear my black leather peacoat over my dress, and put on my brown ankle boots. I grab a pair of sandals to wear on the beach and stuff them in a black bag with my sunglasses, lipstick, phone, wallet, keys, and sunscreen. I take a deep breath and look in the mirror. “We’re just friends. This is a friend thing. I don’t need to be getting a massive crush on an Irish-American gang leader Alpha werewolf with boundary issues.” It hits me then—what if he’s Irish mafia? Then I really don’t need to be getting a crush. An