Page 19 of Even Werewolves Learn

He seems more interested in making her uncomfortable than doling out any punishment.

Constance takes a deep breath before talking, before turning my way.

“Tell him what you asked me to translate in class,” she commands me, and I have to give it to her—her breath doesn’t catch despite the way her heart seems to beat wildly.

“You look so pretty when you choke on my dick like a good girl,” I say as nonchalantly as I did earlier in class.

An amused glint enters the dean’s eyes, and I have a feeling that I’m going to hate his answer, or that at least, he hopes that I will.

“Why would we deal with after-hours classes differently than other classes?” he asks with a too-sweet voice. “You don’t have any classes on Saturday morning, do you?”

I’m about to answer the dean’s question when I see his eyes aren’t cast in my direction but Constance’s.

“You know I don’t,” she says with a frown.

“Mister Dumont, you’ll have detention every Saturday morning for a month,” the dean says, still using the same sugary-sweet voice. “Constance, you know what that means.”

“But he’d be my only student,” she explains, and I’m surprised by her outburst until she speaks again, and I understand why. “Can’t he join the normal detention system?”

Oh. She hates it, but I think I’m just going to love what just happened.

I can’t let it show, though, not while we’re still in the dean’s office. I don’t know who he’s trying to annoy the most: me or her.

“Isn’t a month a little extreme?” I ask, feigning boredom. I’m also counting on the fact that he thinks I’m trying to use my shifter status to lower my punishment.

That’s not what I’m trying to do, though. I’ve only been in his office for a minute, and I already know that this male thrives on belittling whoever he can. I’m counting on the fact that he’ll jump at the opportunity to inflict what he thinks is a bigger punishment on someone the natural order is telling him that he should bow down to.

That’s called having an oversized ego.

“For that remark, you’ll do another two weeks,” he says with a shake of his head, as if I’m being petulant. “And no, he can’t go to the regular detention.”

Constance gasps next to me at that addition to my pain, or maybe it is at the confirmation that I won’t be in the day class detention.

She just lost two other Saturday mornings because of me. I don’t even feel remorse. On the outside, I look contrite, almost sorry for myself. On the inside, I’m jubilant.

I might not have managed to get her to meet me outside of the school, but I’ve just earned myself six entire mornings alone with her.

That’s better than I could hope.

I guess I have six weeks to make her change her mind about me.

She hates me now, but that’s about to change.

My pack is going to hate it too, though, because Saturday mornings are usually when I deal with matters, and I’ll have to move my schedule around for a few weeks.

But it’s nothing that can’t be done.

“Will that be all, Constance?”

I don’t miss the way she tenses at the pronunciation of her name. I can’t fault her, though. The dean seems to take pleasure in butchering it.

“Yes, Dean Sitard,” she says, politely.

“Then you’re dismissed,” he says, dropping his face to the digital keyboard like we’re not even here anymore.

Constance looks scathingly at me before motioning me to leave the dean’s office.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at six,” she says, deciding that I, too, am dismissed, and leaving in the direction of her classroom.