Page 15 of Even Werewolves Learn

It doesn’t miss, and her heart does just that.

It wasn’t hard to find, though.

She’s thirty-eight. I’m twenty-six. Twelve years is nothing, especially for a shifter.

She might have her socials set to private, but I have means to find that type of information.

Being an alpha comes with some perks, in the form of a fat bank account and a list of contacts to solve almost any problem the pack could have.

I’m not proud of it, but I did use pack resources to look into Constance as soon as I got back home on Monday.

Am I obsessed with her? Maybe.

Is it right? Probably not.

Do I care? No. Not one bit.

I’m not even sure I want to get out of her class anymore. It’s time-consuming, yes, but I’m here early for my class. I was here later than I should have been on Monday.

And I don't even feel like I’m losing my time anymore.

I feel like I’m losing my mind, though.

And because that’s how I feel already, though I’ve barely just met her, my only goal now is to make my teacher as obsessed with me as I am with her.

That’s only fair, right?

9

Constance

He’s infuriating.

It’s like I have to answer all of his questions, but he won’t answer any of mine, or at least not in the way I want him to. And he’s doing it with a fucking smirk on his face, with a confidence someone so young shouldn’t be able to show off.

He makes my blood boil, my heart run wild, and my skin prickle, and I hate it.

And to think I’m going to have to deal with him all year, three times a week.

This is not what I signed up for when I decided to become a French teacher.

I’m about to ask him to clarify his answer, but like a couple of days ago, I’m saved from engaging in more conversation with him by the bell.

I jump in my seat, but he doesn’t.

Slowly, like he has all the time in the world, he stands without a word and walks to the desk in the front row of my class.

The exact same one he sat behind two days ago—front and center.

He folds himself into the chair that’s definitely not made for someone his size, his knees hitting the desk, and his upper body dwarfing the back of the seat.

It almost makes me want to laugh, but I have to keep that feeling inside, because the rest of the students start to file in and it’s time to start my class.

“Bonjour à tous. Asseyez-vous. Good afternoon, everyone. Please sit down,” I tell them as I get up from my chair to greet them. I purposely only look at the students coming in, and not at the student already sitting behind his desk, even if I feel his eyes glued to the side of my face.

It takes them a few minutes to settle behind their desks and switch on their holo-puters before finally quieting down.

Louis does switch his own holo-puter on, but his eyes never leave me. I don’t look at him, but I know it. I feel it.