Harry Raftus Age Novels & Stories

She actually blushed. “He’s a fine specimen, Sky,” she whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. “A really fine specimen.” I scrunched my nose. “Harps, you’re nineteen and a freshman. You cannot have a crush on your RA, who I’m sure is twenty years older than you.” She rolled her eyes. “There’s a reason I used the term guy instead of man.” “He’s twenty-three,” she whispered, and my brow shot up. That was… young. Really young — and wrong.

“But we’ll have someone else go undercover, or my son will never let us hear the end of it.” I can only nod to that because he’s not wrong on that. As the meeting breaks up, I catch sight of movement through the window, and my attention shifts completely. In the training yard below, Harry, who is now seven and sprouting up like a weed, is sparring with a retired Dylan and three other pack warriors. His movements are confident and he’s no longer the scared little boy who used to have shifting episodes. "Look at him," I murmur, watching Harry duck under Dylan’s swing and counter with a move that would make Wolfgang proud.