Derek was nonplussed when he saw Emma walk into the class. He shut his eyes for a second, then opened them again—she was really there.

  “What is the little witch doing here?” he muttered under his breath, still staring. Was fate playing with him?

  The lecturer had stopped teaching the moment Emma stepped in, head held high. Her outfit, though simple, drew attention; the low-waist ripped jeans hugged her curves perfectly.

  Derek, noticing how several guys were already gawking at her, gritted his teeth. They were gawking at his mate.

  “I thought you concluded that you’d reject her.”

  “No, I won’t.” Derek’s reply was firm. He couldn’t even bear the sight of other guys staring at her—what would happen when another man finally touched her?

  “You’d kill him.”

  And for once, Derek didn’t argue with his wolf. He was right—he might kill any guy who laid a hand on Emma. His best friend wasn’t exempted.

  Because he was shamelessly staring at her while she talked with the lecturer, he saw when she turned to find a seat, when her eyes widened as her gaze collided with his.

  The surprise on her face gave him a ridiculous amount of joy, moreso when she started toward him.

  He purred when she took the seat beside him. Thank the moon he had asked the girl sitting there earlier to move; she’d been fawning over him and chattering nonsense.

  “What are you doing here?” Emma asked as she settled down.

  “Are you dumb? I’m obviously a student here,” he retorted, resting a hand on the history book lying idly on his desk.

  “You’re studying political science?” Emma’s insides turned warm at the thought of spending her college days with him. She had almost blanked out when she saw him sitting there—looking every bit the handsome, regal male she remembered.

  “I’m majoring in public administration,” he replied, tapping his pen against the desk in an even rhythm. “We just happen to share this course code.”

  “Oh, okay.” She reverted her attention to the lecturer, who was still droning on about the history of some nation she didn’t care about. What am I going to do with it?

  Trying to ignore the weight of Derek’s intermittent stares, Emma forced her eyes on the short, potbellied lecturer.

  Was he trying to bore holes into her face with his eyes? she thought irritably moments later. She turned slightly, only to find him still staring—unabashed, not even blinking when she caught him.

  Although a small part of her was pleased by his attention, she didn’t like the look in his eyes. It was possessive. She didn’t do possessive.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “…sent spies to the United States through five-year-olds. Anybody with an idea on how they managed that?” the lecturer asked suddenly, cutting through Emma’s thoughts.

  No one raised a hand.

  Emma scoffed inwardly. Seriously? Not one person could answer that? Where did they all go to for high school?

  She glanced at Derek—still staring. Oh God, she muttered, catching his smirk. What’s wrong with this guy?

  “Anybody?” the lecturer asked again, voice rising.

  Emma finally decided to end the silence, but before she could open her mouth, a petite brunette spoke up.

  “It happened during the Cold War,” the girl said, her voice calm but confident. “Russia—part of the USSR—arranged for some children to give a portrait to the Secretary General of the United States. The latter accepted it and hung it in his office. It took seven years before they discovered that the portrait contained a monitoring chip that had recorded their dealings the entire time.”

  “Correct!” the lecturer exclaimed, joy brightening his face. “What’s your name?”

  “Ava,” the brunette replied with a sigh. “Ava Brighton.”

  “Ava…” Emma tasted the name on her lips and smiled. She liked the brunette already. It wouldn’t be bad having a female friend around her age.

  “Okay, Ava,” the lecturer continued. “You’ll be my personal assistant in class from now on.”

  Ava groaned audibly, but the lecturer ignored her. Gathering his books, he added, “Read extensively on the Cold War and submit a summary—not less than a thousand words—to Ava by next tomorrow.” Then he walked out.

  The class erupted in groans. Most students saw it as pure wickedness.

  Emma didn’t mind. She knew she could finish it today if she wanted. Pulling out her class plan, she noted that she had no other lectures—just the orientation scheduled for new students at noon. She weighed whether it was worth going.

  That was when she heard Derek’s voice.

  “…Sure, I’ll be around,” he was saying.

  A feminine voice responded, “Okay then, see you later.”

  Emma turned—out of curiosity, she told herself—and saw that the girl was none other than Ava.

  Derek smiled. “See you later,” he said as Ava nodded and walked off, not sparing Emma a glance.

  “Who is she?” Emma asked before she could stop herself. She bit her lip immediately. Now he’ll think I’m jealous.

  Derek’s smirk widened. Perfect.

  “Jealous, are we?” he teased.

  “You wish.” Emma scoffed, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. She was done. She’d head to the coffee shop and start her work shift—the orientation could wait.

  “Hey, where are you going…?” Derek began, but two girls intercepted him, each grabbing an arm and giggling.

  Emma didn’t even need to look twice. College isn’t that different from high school, she thought. Just an upgraded version.

  “Can we have your contact?” one of the girls asked, batting her lashes.

  Emma rolled her eyes, exhaled sharply, and turned away. She had just picked up her bag when her phone rang.

  “Hello,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. Derek had stopped talking to the girls—two more had joined him now—but his gaze was fixed on her.

  “Emma,” came the voice through the line.

  Her lips curved. It was Clem.

  “Hey, Clem! I was just about to call you. Are you done with class?” Her voice louder than the usual, she strolled toward the doorway.

  “Yes. Should I come pick you up?”

  “Yes,” she said, stepping out of the classroom. She didn’t look back—not once.

  If she had, she would have seen the storm in Derek’s eyes, the hurt and anger that twisted his expression as he watched her leave.