Page 36 of Heroes & Hitmen (Windy City Wolfpack #1)

Miley

Sugar dances over my tongue as I swirl a cherry lollipop around in my mouth, staring at the whiteboard and willing myself to focus.

The guest lecturer is droning on about yellow journalism and the evolution of tabloid tactics– which should be fascinating since my life has become a scandal in the making– but all I can do is stare at the word ‘sensationalism’ scrawled across the board in blue marker and think about Ares Raines.

Specifically, about how he’s a master of it.

Not that I’d ever admit it out loud, but the guy has managed to weasel his way into every crevice of my brain in the span of a month.

Every memory, every random thought, every time I see a stacked guy with big dick energy, my mind jumps straight to him.

It’s like he’s infected me with a damn virus that’s rerouted all neural activity directly to his face. Or, more likely, his abs.

But that’s beside the point.

I crunch down on my lollipop, feeling a sharp jolt of satisfaction as the hard candy cracks between my teeth.

I’ve trained myself to ignore distractions; I’m the queen of compartmentalizing.

I once endured three straight hours of an all-pack meeting without contemplating violence or spontaneous combustion. But this ? This is next level.

It doesn’t help that I’m running on maybe five hours of sleep, most of which was spent tossing and turning because my traitorous wolf can’t control herself while Ares is in the bed.

She was whining like a brat all night long, willing me to snuggle in closer to him, feel his skin against mine, and breathe in his scent.

The professor steps up to take the place of our guest lecturer at the podium, the entire class groaning when he announces a ten-question pop quiz. I glance over at the digital clock on the wall, knee bouncing anxiously when I see we’ve only got ten minutes left to take said quiz.

Crap.

Hopefully I can muddle my way through it.

Our professor starts dropping stacks of quizzes at the end of each row to be passed down, and it takes everything in me not to check my phone under the desk while I wait for mine.

I refuse to be that girl– the one glued to her screen, desperate for a message from the boy she’s pretending not to like.

Ares hasn’t texted me all day, and I’m far too tempted to start the conversation for once.

I resist, because if he wants to play at being ‘mates’, then he can do the heavy lifting. I’m not about to turn into a stage five clinger just because he’s rocking my world with orgasms every night.

God. I hate admitting that, even to myself.

It shouldn’t matter, anyways. He’s temporary. This whole situation is temporary . In ten days, I’ll be gone, free, starting fresh, and Ares Raines will be a nice memory. A reckless, impulsive, probably ill-advised memory, but a memory all the same.

Why does that thought make my stomach sink?

A sheet of paper lands in front of me and I do my best to answer each of the multiple-choice questions on the quiz, hoping that logical reasoning and the process of elimination will pull me through.

It’d be a tragedy to wreck my grade point average on a stupid pop quiz because I was too distracted by daydreams of my new fuck buddy to pay attention to the lecture.

Then again, seeing as I’ll be gone soon, I suppose my grades don’t matter much anymore, either.

“Time’s up!” the professor calls out just as I’m marking my answer choice for the last question.

I slide my quiz to the edge of the desk with a sigh, watching with faint disgust as the class collectively shuffles forward to drop them in the bin. It’s a mess of shoves and fake apologies, the usual dance of undergrads with more ambition than spatial awareness.

I linger in my seat, letting the crowd thin out before I drop off my own quiz and make my exit.

There’s no point in getting trampled by a bunch of co-eds eager to get to their next class when I’m done for the day.

I pop the lollipop stick from my mouth and toss it in the trash on my way out the door, adjusting the strap of my messenger bag on my shoulder and pulling out my phone.

It buzzes in my hand as I step out into the corridor, the notification banner lighting up with an email from one of my professors about a schedule change.

No texts. Not from Ares, not from anyone.

My thumb hovers, tempted to message him first just to prove I’m not playing chicken, but I decide against it.

As I push through the double doors and step out of the building, I instantly get a prickle on the back of my neck like I’m being watched.

I freeze, head snapping up from my phone screen, eyes scanning the crowd on the lawn of the quad.

It’s early afternoon, the sun filtering through a thin veil of clouds and painting everything with that washed-out, dreamy quality despite the thick humidity in the air.

I sweep my gaze over the area, pulse kicking up a notch as I search for a shock of red hair and a disarming grin.

No Ares.

I shake it off, but the feeling lingers as I debate whether to go straight home or kill an hour reading on campus.

When I see that the bench under the giant maple is empty, it’s an easy decision.

Making a beeline down the path, I go straight for the bench and toss my bag onto it, sinking down and rummaging through for my paperback.

Just as I pull it out and crack it open, the feeling returns. That insistent, buzzing awareness of being observed.

I jerk my head up, eyes darting across the quad. This time, I catch him immediately.

Ares is standing on the sidewalk next to his truck, leaning back against the passenger door like a damn model.

He’s wearing a faded t-shirt that clings to every muscle and a pair of athletic shorts that don’t even pretend to hide the fact he never skips leg day.

His copper hair is a little wild, wind-tousled in a way that’s probably accidental but definitely swoon-worthy, his dark eyes locked with mine.

I’m caught like a fox in his trap, and I don’t look away. Instead, I arch a brow and shoot him the most withering look I can muster.

His lips twitch, and I know he’s fighting the urge to smirk. I seriously hate how good he is at reading my moods, how easily he can flip a switch and go from brooding to playful in two seconds flat.

He inclines his chin in a silent summons, and though the urge to ignore him is strong, the desire to go to him is stronger. I flip my book shut, stuff it in my bag, and shove up from the bench, strutting across the quad with the stride of a woman who knows exactly what she wants.

I reach him in less than a minute, stopping just shy of the curb and folding my arms over my chest. “Still stalking me?” I ask, cocking a brow. “Did you think lurking on the edge of campus would make you less conspicuous?”

He grins, not even bothering to play innocent as he strikes a pose. “I was hoping the view would distract you from my complete lack of subtlety.”

I snort a laugh, smiling despite myself. “Smooth.”

Ares pushes off from his truck, bridging the space between us in a single step. “You done for the day?”

“You already know,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t have my schedule memorized.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “I like to keep tabs on you, sweetheart. It’s my kink.”

My pulse skips, and I hate how easily he makes it do that. I drop my arms to my sides, shifting my weight to my other foot. “Is there a reason you’re here, or are you just annoying me to pass the time?”

“I missed you,” he growls in a low voice, leaning in closer.

I bark a laugh. “Bullshit, you saw me this morning.”

“That was hours ago,” he groans. “Besides, I need a favor.”

“Of course you do,” I mutter. “What is it? Was Will so impressed with my company that he’s dying to third wheel with us again?”

Ares flashes me a grin. “Well yes, but I actually had something else in mind. You doing anything right now?”

“Depends,” I reply slowly, arching a suspicious brow. “Is this a trick question?”

He gives a low, warm chuckle. “No trick. I’ve been dying to let my wolf out for a run, and I figured you’d know somewhere to go.”

“You want me to run with you?” I snort. “On what planet is that a good idea?”

“Why, because our wolves like each other a little too much?” Ares challenges, smirking like a devil. “Almost like they’re meant for each other?”

I roll my eyes so hard I practically see the back of my skull, but my wolf’s already stirring beneath my skin, her interest officially piqued.

Dammit.

“I might know a place,” I say nonchalantly, trying to play it cool despite how hard my heart’s suddenly pounding, anticipation already thrumming through my veins.

This is probably a terrible idea. Except now that my wolf’s latched onto it, she won’t let go– and I’m not even sure I really want her to.

I never got the chance to run during the last full moon, and my inner animal has been cooped up for far too long.

A little run to de-stress might be exactly what I need to temper my anxiety and reclaim my focus.

Ares flashes me a stupidly sexy grin, tipping his head toward the truck. “Hop in then, sweetheart.”

My stomach does a little flip when he moves to pull open the passenger door, holding it for me like he’s some kind of gentleman.

And despite my best efforts, I can’t bite back my smile as I step past him and slide into his truck, pulse pounding harder as he shuts my door and jogs around to the other side.

I try to tell myself that this isn’t a big deal; that it’s just another thing to pass the time.

That in the grand scheme of things, Ares is a blip– a brief spark before I vanish for good.

But with the way my heart’s beating out of tune and my wolf’s howling at the prospect of the run, I know I’m only lying to myself.