Nadia
The next morning, Vincent and I were scheduled to meet again for lessons in his sunlit sitting room. I came early and sat on my usual couch with my knees tucked up to my chest, thinking hard. My heart was thumping with nervous anticipation that had nothing to do with the lesson ahead of me.
Some of the staff had rolled in a whiteboard and a basketful of dry-erase markers. When Vincent entered, the morning sun picked out the bright threads of silver in his hair. But he didn’t even look at me – just made a beeline for the whiteboard and picked up a marker.
“Today we’re going to continue diagramming common pack structures,” he said as he sketched out the now-familiar web of werewolf hierarchies. “In most cases, particularly pre-war, pack leadership of course consists of an Alpha a
