Claimed but Never Marked
He tilted his head, silver-blue eyes huge and innocent.
"Teacher... are you sad?"
I froze, just for a second—then laughed it off.
"Nope. I'm happy."
Yeah, I was sad.
But not because of them.
Because their names still had the power to drag me back to a past full of lies.
One afternoon, while I was teaching in the cabin, a tall werewolf showed up at the door.
He stood there awkwardly, holding out a fat Lustre Hare.
"Hi. I'm John's uncle—Aron," he said, pushing the hare toward me, voice careful.