43. Hunter
Hunter
Faint music drifted on a light breeze as I trod a familiar path past the student dorms, heading for my small apartment in the staff complex.
A week away had done nothing to quell the uncertainty in my chest, or cool the fire in my veins, and I gritted my teeth at the thought of seeing the little hybrid shifter again.
I had hoped a visit home, using my father’s ailing health as an excuse, would help vanquish this stupid attraction to a student.
But nope. My plan failed.
Having unmated lionesses pawing me curdled my stomach. And I definitely wasn’t interested in the lioness my parents expected me to mate with. Not that they listened when I told them so.
Now that Dad was in his twilight years, he was desperate for me to step into his shoes as pride king, with Cecelia as my pride queen. Both he and Mom were keen to retire and hand over the responsibilities of managing the pride to me.
Only I couldn’t stand Cecelia Gold. Everything about her turned me off, from her glossy platinum curls and obsession with material wealth to her vanity and self-absorption. She had nothing to offer in conversation apart from trite gossip and bitchy remarks about her fellow lionesses.
I reached my apartment door, looking forward to a hot shower and a glass of elkwine, but footsteps alerted me to another’s presence.
“You’re back at last!” Roxanne Raven sashayed over, reeking of lust. The sight of the feline shifter wearing spiky stilettos with a tight red sheath dress and matching scarlet lipstick would normally inspire lust, but my lion wasn’t interested.
“It’s late, Roxy,” I ground out, not wanting to offend her. We’d shared many fun evenings, and I still held some affection for the female. “It’s been a long trip, and I need to crash.” I stepped into my apartment, hoping she’d get the hint, but no.
“You seem tense, darling,” she purred with a seductive smile. “Let me help you unwind.” Before I could decline, she’d squeezed past me, rubbing her scent all over my upper body.
My lion snapped his head up and growled. He didn’t appreciate being scent-marked.
“Roxy,” I snapped, losing patience. “I said no.”
The feline pouted. “But, Hunter; it’s been ages. I thought—”
Goddess, why couldn’t she take a hint? There were other males on campus who’d be more than happy to entertain her.
I knew for a fact Manuel, a wolf shifter art professor, had a crush on her, not to mention half the student body.
Then there was the PlentyOfShifters app.
An attractive, single female like her had many options.
“Like I said, Roxy, I’m tired.” I dropped my phone and keys on a side table and kicked my shoes off.
Roxy huffed and pouted. “If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure.” Without waiting for her to move, I yanked the door wide open and ushered her out. Then I slammed it in her face.
It took a few minutes before I heard her walk away, but once she’d gone, I heaved a sigh of relief.
After showering and pouring a very large glass of elkwine, I sat down and pretended to watch a boring nature documentary on my laptop, hoping it would settle my mind enough to let me sleep. But all I could think about was the little hybrid wolf.
Was he safe?
Had he suffered any further bullying?
The thought of the little wolf being subjected to bullshit hazing made me sick. I couldn’t bear the idea of him in pain, which was fucking ridiculous.
Students often had accidents or ended up hurt because of stupid pranks, but it had never bothered me before.
I slammed my laptop shut. Perhaps some fresh air would help clear my head.
The crisp night air caused my breath to steam as I padded back down the path that led past the student dorms. I wore nothing but a pair of shorts and sneakers, intending to shift once I reached the forest.
Night was my preferred time to run. The school discouraged students from shifting at night to avoid any unpleasant incidents, but the faculty had no such restrictions.
The only exception was during a full moon; but when that came around, most of the students attended the full moon parties where supervision was non-existent.
I loped past dorm five, my thoughts drifting, until a burned sugar scent stopped me in my tracks. My lion stirred as I sniffed the air, trying to work out where the intoxicating smell came from.
Mate, he roared. Claim!
He had to be mistaken. Our mate would be a lioness, and there were no lionesses here.
This was an all-male school. Pride alphas didn’t take male lions as their mates; it would cause too many issues.
Lion society was very traditional in its outlook.
An alpha lion sat at the top of the pride hierarchy, surrounded by beta lions and lionesses.
When it was time to take a mate, he chose a high-ranking alpha female from an adjacent pride to help him rule.
I shook my head. As addictive as this random male’s burned sugar scent was, I decided it had to be a strange anomaly. Whoever the scent belonged to, it wasn’t our mate.