47

LOGAN

First, it was in the lobby of my apartment. And then the nightclub and now, here. Someone tell me this is not a psycho stalker on the loose? This was far more than just a coincidence. You don't get to meet the same person at three places you frequent and you still think of it as a fucking coincidence.

She was yet to speak or even blink, her gaze was glued on me as we both had a staredown. But unlike her, my stance was relaxed and it was a casual staredown, even though I was squirting fire on her frail body. She, on the other hand, felt stiff, frozen, and a bit pale. For a second there, I doubted she was the same feisty girl at the nightclub and the lobby.

I flashed her a taunting smile. For a girl who got pissed when I tagged her as a stalker and went as far as emptying her glass on my face, why were her actions proving me right? Why was she playing the coy stalker so dedicatedly? Where would she choose to show up next? My bedroom, perhaps? I don't even doubt it for a second. She seems determined to be in my space, so yeah, my bedroom has to be the next place she plans to show up at.

“Have a seat, Miss Garcia,” The Professor said to her, pointing at the empty seat next to mine. I was seated casually, with my legs spread out.

“Uh, thank you,“ She finally snapped out of her reverie and did a slight fumble to the seat.

A light chuckle escaped my lips. It was damn funny to see her acting this way. What did she do with all her feistiness? Or was she feeling scared because her jig was up? It's crystal clear now that she was a stalker. No way she could deny it.

“O'Hara, I'd like you to meet your partner for the project,“ The Professor spoke, gesturing at her, “You both are the only ones without a partner in the class,”

”Uh, Sir, can I just do it alone?” She appealed, and though she seemed to be staring at the professor, her peripheral sight was taking me in. Like, all of me.

A crooked smile formed on my face. Coy, damn coy! How was she so good at it? Pretending to want this, but deep down, she's craving something else. Reverse psychology was her thing.

“I'm sorry, Miss Garcia. Rules are rules. Either you stick with a partner, or you forfeit. And you know what that means,”

The Professor said and stood to his feet, grabbing his coat from the hangar.

I looked up at him with questioning eyes and I guess she did too.

”I'll leave you both to get to know each other, Be right back,“ He said and walked out of the office.

Now, it was just me and Miss Coy-Stalker. So bad do I wanna shake her and confront her for being a liar and a stalker. But I gave up on being aggressive, especially toward females, and I wanna stick to that.

But goddess, she keeps showing up in front of me. And it leaves me uneasy because I don't know what her deal was. What the fuck does she want?

A few more minutes and she wouldn't say a word. She didn't even spare me a glance. Nice, thinking she would escape my taunting by ignoring me. No way am I gonna let her off the hook so easily.

“We meet again,” I began, with a sardonic smile, I was staring at her back that wasn't covered by the crop top she wore.

She waited a few seconds before turning around with a facetious smile, “Cut it out. I didn't stalk you down here,”

“I didn't say that, did I?” I asked innocently, ”But now that we're on the topic, why don't you help me explain how we managed to wind up in the same college and the same office? Because I can't seem to figure it out, it beats the shit out of me,“

“How would I know that?!” She snapped, with a sharp exhale, ”I've been here for two good weeks. And you, how long have you been here?“

“Four years,“ I said, silencing her claims, “So if you trying to make a point with you being here for two weeks, then just cut it out. I've been here longer than you have, so go on, tell me,“

“Tell you what?!”

“What the fuck you stalking me for. I've had it with you, and if you don't start talking, I'm gonna be forced to file charges,”

“What?!“ She gasped, “I already told you that I'm not stalking you,“

“Then what do you call this, huh? Coincidence? Fated meetings? Run-ins?“

“I'm not big on names. I just know that I'm not stalking your narcissistic ass. What the hell would I do that for?” She gasped, throwing her hands in the air. Got a quick view of her crimson-manicured nails.

“That's exactly what I wanna know. Why you stalking me? It can't be for money, you seem rich. Is it for your erotic desires? Or you just got nothing better to do?“ I goaded her.

I was trying to get her angry, so she would react. Maybe when she loses her cool, she might be forced to say something she doesn't wanna say. Maybe the truth, then I'll finally get to know why she wouldn't stop following me around.

“And what about you, stupid?! What the heck were you doing in the lobby? You probably saw me go in and thought of bumping into me to get me to notice your stupid ass. And at the nightclub, you weren't chasing anyone, and you intentionally made the waitress spill the drink on me. That was all your tricks to get my attention, and you went ahead to call me a stalker, because psychologically, whoever takes offense first is the real victim. But I see what you trying to do, and you know what, go ahead and file charges. I'm sure you the one who's gonna end up behind bars, perv!”

She ended her rambling and her face was flushed with rage. Although I wanted to get a reaction from her, I wasn't expecting this.

I was yet to comprehend her words, took me a whole fucking minute.

Her outburst was one heck of an onslaught. I expected so many kinds of reactions but not this. Not her coming strong at me, when she should be apologizing for being a shameless stalker. And it was rather amazing how skillfully she turned the tables around, pinning me down with her 'perv' claims.

That one mistake…that sniffing and getting lost in her scent got me the "perv" tag. And it was rather impossible to prove that I wasn't ogling at her. I was mesmerized by the scent that hung around her. That doesn't make me a fucking perv.

This is sick. I can't go to the cops and explain to them that I was searching for my mate's scent. And that was the only reason why I latched onto her like a perv would. The cops will never buy my story. They would call me crazy. Plus, it'll only arouse suspicions and questions. Mates and scents weren't typical things here in human territory.

And if I do tell them I was a werewolf, then I just broke the most sacred laws of the werewolf clan.

The only Alpha who broke that rule and never got punished was Father. When he trusted Lawrence, he opened up to him about our kind and every other thing he needed to know. Our anatomy, our powers, every little thing he needed to know about us. So far it's been worth it, Mr. Lawrencee has proved time and time again how much of a loyal friend he was, even though he was human.

But I can't be as honest as Father was, not in a fucked-up situation as this.

“I see you trying to turn the tables on me. Wouldn't change anything though. You still a stalker, the dirtiest of all,” I said to her, desiring to wound her with my words.

It worked. The way she gawked at me like she couldn't believe I could go full savage on her. In a reflex, she took a glance at her outfit, probably trying to figure out what made her dirty.

My cocky smile was the epic reaction to how pained she was feeling at the moment. She asked for it.

”Did– did you just call me dirty?” She asked in a stunned tone.

My words had struck a nerve and she looked downright broken. I don't need to know much about her for me to understand that she did not get called out by people much.

You could criticize her, but she's not gonna get affected as long as she feels superior to you. But when she gets called out by someone who seems like a real deal, it hurts her ego. Like right now.

”You heard me,” I retorted, defiantly staring at her.

Her hazel eyes glistened and she barely said a word before the professor returned to the office.

“So, have you two gotten acquainted enough to be able to pull this off?“ The professor asked with a beam, turning around to slide back into his seat.

“I'm sorry, Sir. But I can never be paired up with a guy like him,“ She said immediately after he sat down, “I'll rather be paired with a hyena or a fucking chihuahua,”

”Why?“

”Because this guy right here is a disgusting, Godforsaken, perv. Do you hear me, Sir? He's a fucking perv!” She said in an angry outburst, ”And if you try to pair us up, then you put me at risk. That only makes you an accomplice to a perv,“

'Startled' didn't come close to how I felt listening to how she weaved her words in a free flow. It was interesting, and hilarious at the same time. It was fun watching her blow hot like that.

“Miss Garcia. What you doing right now is slander, and without a valid reason, you could be punished,“

“I know that, Sir,“ She said quietly, hooking a strand of her hair to the corner of her ears, “I might be recently transferred here, but I'm well aware that you don't slander a person with a valid reason. He is a perv, I met him…“

Suddenly, I tuned out, tensing up as the slow breeze passed my nostrils. It blew her hair, making it dance to its rhythm. My heart knotted as I got the whiff of that scent again. A scent so similar to my mate's. It was coming from her again, fucking stirring me up.

I twisted and squirmed in my seat, fighting to keep my awakening wolf on a leash. It was hard. Becoming impossible. I knew I had to leave.

“I'll be her partner,“ I voiced out, stopping whatever rambling section she was on.

”What?!“ She gasped, turning her head back to look at me. I fought hard to conceal my discomfort. They both had keen gazes pinned on me. I had to be careful.

”I said…” Talking was becoming difficult, I've perceived this scent twice and it's never been this hard on me. It's never been this wild, ”I'll be your mate…“

“My mate?“ She repeated ridiculously, “What nonsense are you spitting out?”

My teeth clenched, 'please, be fucking calm,' I mind-linked Flynn, my wolf.

He gave a deep howl, crashing his body against the back of my mind.

'I want her,“ he growled.

'What? She's not our mate,' I countered. This girl wasn't Daisy. She's fucking Hispanic, for Pete's sake.

'I don't care. She has the scent. We have to keep her close,' Flynn howled.

“O'Hara?!“ The professor called out, and I forcefully ended the mind link.

I tried hard for a poker face so I could say the words I was struggling to say for minutes.

“We'll be partners, Sir,” I said, hoping I was convincing enough.

”No way in hell–” She barely finished her protest before I pulled her up by the hand and dragged her out of the office, ”Where the fuck are you taking me?”

My wolf wants you. Flynn won't calm down if he doesn't feel you close. I have to oblige my wolf on this one.

I arrived at the male washroom and pinned her on the wall. Horror flashed through her eyes at our proximity.

”What do you plan to do to me?” she asked in an almost panicky tone.

“I'm sorry. And I'm not trying to be a perv, but I need to do this,”

“What–”

I cut her off as I pulled her into my arms, locking her in and burying my face in her hair. A deep breath. And another. And another. Damn, I've missed this scent. The scent of my mate, Daisy.