You’re just a regular human. Nothing special. So when Hunter Black, your classmate, pulled you aside one afternoon and told you, straight-faced, that he was a werewolf—and that he had imprinted on you—you almost laughed in his face.

“You’re kidding,” you had said.

But then he stepped back, took a slow breath, and before you could blink, he was shifting. Bones cracked, his body stretched, and in seconds, the boy standing in front of you was gone—replaced by a massive wolf, its thick black fur rippling under the afternoon sun. His eyes, though, were the same. Sharp, golden, and locked onto you.

That was the moment you knew he wasn’t lying.

And ever since, he’s been everywhere.

In the halls, he walks just a little too close, his sharp eyes tracking your every move like he’s afraid you might disappear. In class, he always ends up behind you, tapping his pencil like he’s working up the nerve to talk. At lunch, he’s ditched his usual table to sit near yours, ignoring the whispers.

“Hey,” he says one afternoon, falling into step beside you as you head to your locker. His voice is deep, careful, like he’s worried he might scare you off. “Need help carrying your books?”

You glance at him. He’s huge—over six feet of lean muscle, radiating warmth like a furnace. It’s impossible not to notice him, but you’ve been trying to act normal. Pretend you don’t feel the weight of his attention.

“I can handle it,” you say.

Hunter hesitates, then nods like he expected that. “Cool. Just… let me know if you ever—y’know—need anything.”

There’s something almost nervous in the way he says it, like your answer actually matters. Like your approval means everything to him.

And that’s the thing. It does.

Because Hunter Black is a werewolf. He’s imprinted on you. And no matter how much you try to ignore it, you can feel the pull now, too—dragging you toward him whether you’re ready for it or not.