Sold to a Wolf Pack

STAWP | Chapter 37

Saffron

"We should go," Logan tells me, pulling out his keys and unlocking the car.

I glance after Principal Walters and find him standing near the school entrance, watching us. Still embarrassed over what he saw earlier, I feel my cheeks flame and I quickly climb inside the car. When I'm settled in the passenger's seat, Logan slams the car door shut and walks around to the driver-side door.

"What did you tell him?" I ask once Logan gets in and closes the door. Since the principal is a wolf, there's a chance he could have still overheard us with the door open, even from across the parking lot.

"I pulled rank." Logan shrugs. "As the next Alpha."

"The principal has to do what you say?" I gape.

"Well..." Logan hesitates.

"Well, what?" I push.

"He won't stand up to me directly, especially not in front of others from the pack," Logan sighs, "but he's going to call Father the first chance he gets."

"He can't do that!" I protest. POW can't find out I'm cutting class and making out with his son. He'll lock me up in a dungeon for sure. How am I supposed to run away if that happens?

At the thought of running away, I suddenly feel like someone punched me in the gut, and my facial expression must reflect it because Logan suddenly looks concerned.

"Don't worry about it," he tells me, pulling out his phone. "I'll text him."

"We should go back to class," I protest, reaching for the car door. "I don't want to get in trouble."

"Wait!" Logan puts a hand on mine stops me in my tracks. "You won't." He lets me go and types something into his phone. "I've explained that it was all my idea." When I continue to shake my head in protest, he adds. "And that I ordered you to do it."

"Well..." I hesitate.

Logan finishes the text and hits send before I can protest further. He drops his phone in the car's cup holder and buckles his seatbelt. I hesitate, and then do the same.

In one fluid motion, Logan inserts the key into the ignition, revs the revs the engine, and peels out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires. It kind of reminds me of POW's driving. Like father, like son.

"Vampires." Logan laughs once we're out of sight of the school. "It's cute how gullible you are."

"I am not," I argue. "I didn't really think vampires were real!" Plus, I didn't believe in the link until I had proof. That should say something about my gullibility, or lack thereof, shouldn't it?

"You did too," Logan argues, "plus, you should have seen your face when the nurse said 'rectal thermometer.'"

"How was I supposed to know she wasn't serious?" I protest. Nurse Jackie, a heavy-set, middle-aged woman, returned to her office right after Logan said he'd teach me to link. She looked very professional, with a white lab coat over navy blue pants and white sneakers. She even had a stethoscope around her neck. Not at all like I'd picture a woman who collect condoms and nude posters.

When Logan told her I wasn't feeling well, she pulled out a thermometer from her pocket and asked if I needed some privacy. I must have looked confused, because that's when she proceeded to explain that I'd have to lie down on my stomach and pull down my pants for the rectal thermometer to work.

"What was I supposed to think?" I demand, glaring at Logan as he pulls to a stop at a red light. "That nurse is a total perv."

"She's what?" Logan demands between fits of laughter.

"Nothing," I mumble, looking down at my lap.

"You can't just say something like that and not back it up," Logan complains.

"Okay, fine." I groan as the light changes and Logan drives through the intersection. "She had a bunch of condoms on the table and a poster of naked people and..." I trail off as Logan bursts out laughing again.

"She's the school nurse," he tells me when he finally stops laughing long enough. "She's supposed to have that stuff!"

"Whatever," I grumble, my cheeks turning red.

"She made the rectal thermometer joke the first time I visited her, too," Logan tries to console me.

"Can we please just change the subject?" I groan in embarrassment.

"Sure." Logan grins.

"Can you really teach me... whatever it is you do?" I ask.

"Link... and yes, I can," Logan tells me. "I've never met a wolf who couldn't link."

"Then you've never taught anyone how to do it?"

"No," Logan hesitates, "but how hard can it be?"

"What if I can't link?" I worry.

"I'm sure you can," Logan insists.

"What if I can't?" I persist.

"Both your parents were wolves, right?" Logan asks.

I nod, only to realize he's watching the road, not me. "Yes."

"Well then I don't see why not." Logan shrugs like it's no big deal.

"My Dad can't link," I admit. "He's never mentioned it. For all I know he's never even heard of it."

"He's a rogue." Logan spits. "Maybe no one ever showed him how."

"He grew up with a pack," I protest. "Maybe none of them could link either." Or maybe there's just something wrong with Dad and me. He did always tell me no pack wanted us because we were different. I know POW said he was paying off the pack in Oakburg, but what if it was because Dad was hiding the fact that we couldn't link?

"Everyone in our pack can, and any wolf who's ever passed through here—pack or rogue—could, too." Logan insists, turning his head towards me as he makes a right turn. "I've never heard of a wolf who couldn't link."

"But what if it's genetic?" I whisper. "What if I can't learn?"

"Let me try to teach you first. If it doesn't work, then we can worry, okay?"