Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Duke just crushed Clemson, so my teammates are celebrating their asses off. Cheerleaders from both teams circulate in skimpy clothing. It’s funny to me that the Clemson girls would come. I guess they have no loyalty to their own kind. Humans are weird like that.
I’m not surprised they were invited. A lot of my teammates have a thing about conquering the other team’s women. Some primal shit, I guess. Honestly, I was going to try to cheer myself up with a tall, leggy fake blonde, but something has my wolf on edge.
Some prickling. Some awareness that I need to keep my wits about me. Pay attention. Which is why I’m the only sober one here. Not that it’s really possible for a wolf shifter to get wasted. We metabolize way too fast. Everyone’s doing lines because we just got drug-tested yesterday, which means we’re safe to sample for a few more weeks.
Our quarterback and my roommate, Ryan, went out to buy more beer, which we definitely don’t need, considering how much Big C we have. Ryan is a senior, and I’m a sophomore, but we’re the star players, so I rank high enough socially on the team to be his roommate. Either that or I’m the only guy he trusts not to steal the very large amount of snow he bought before the game to sell when we get back.
We already got thrown out of the pool area and the bar. That’s how things ended up here, in our room. The manager asked us to keep it down about twenty minutes ago, but we didn’t pay much attention.
I walk to the window and look out, rubbing the back of my neck. My wolf must have drawn me there because I see two cop cars below.
Fuck. This must be why I had no urge to join the party.
“Everybody out. Cops are here. Now, people.” I use some alpha command into my voice, even though they’re humans. Sometimes they’ll respond to it, depending on how sensitive they are to energy.
Most of these people are too fucked up to notice.
I put my fingers to my lips and whistle then hit the lights on and off. “I said, everybody out. The cops are on the premises. Party’s over.”
There are groans, but my teammates put a little hustle into it, knowing if we get busted Coach Granview will kick our asses. The cheerleaders grab their discarded clothing. The guys claim their women for the night.
The cops arrive as the last people walk out the door.
And…there’s white powdery probable cause all over the dresser.
I would’ve been better off letting the party be broken up by the cops because now there’s a whole lot of coke and just one guy.
Me.
I literally just set myself up to be the lone guy taking the fall for Ryan and the rest of the dickheads on my team.
For some reason, I get nothing from my wolf. No guidance whatsoever. And he’s the dickwad who warned me. So that must mean…he wanted me to get caught.
And then I get it. This is revenge on my dad.
I fuck up my football career, his pride suffers.
It’s payback for what he did to my rep the day he decided to marry that defective little runt’s mom.
The day he made Rayne the Runt my new stepsister.
And that’s why I say and do nothing when they handcuff me, read me my rights, and take me to jail.
Rayne
I strut around my new bedroom–the space still very much inhabited by the energy of my dickwad stepbrother–in a brand-new pair of Manolo Blahnik stilettos.
I’m barely five feet tall in a pair of thick-soled sneakers, but I know how to walk in heels. Not because there’s ever an opportunity for a seventeen-year-old outcast in a small Arizona town to dress up and go out.
Nope. This is an at-home-only activity. Supposedly, there’s only one way out of Wolf Ridge after high school, and that’s a sports scholarship. Considering I’m the runt of the pack with no athletic abilities whatsoever, I had to find a different way.
Academic scholarships are out. No one from Wolf Ridge High ever gets much of a merit-based scholarship because our school sucks. I mean, my human friend Bailey got one, but she also transferred into WRH her senior year, so she had all kinds of AP classes and accolades before she ever moved here.
I make a circuit around the room and survey my image on the computer screen. I’m in a black lacy bra and panty set with an unbuttoned flannel shirt thrown over the top to keep me warm. The shoes are shiny black patent leather. They pinch my toes, but I look amazing in them if I do say so myself.
No, I’m not joining a beauty pageant.
I’m selling videos of my feet on the internet. Men who are into feet pay for videos like this. One such man bought these shoes for me. I have five other pairs hidden in my closet. All I have to do is make a video every day to post to the viewers on my OnlyFans and Patreon accounts, and the money pours in.