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That's possible too.

I take another tiny step backward. He takes another step forward.

“Let’s not do that.”

He stops.

Okay.

This Wolf definitely understands me. Which should make me feel better.

It doesn't.

Because now I have an enormous, possibly supernatural Wolf staring at me like he's waiting for something.

I glance toward the gym.

I could scream.

There are dozens of people inside.

Parents.

Teachers.

Students.

Wulfy.

Wulfy would know what to do.

Except screaming might cause the giant Wolf in front of me to react badly.

And I really don't want my obituary to read:

AGATHA DANIELS, THIRTY-SIX, ALCHEMY PROFESSOR, EATEN AFTER MAKING POOR LIFE CHOICES.

Dora would put it on my headstone just to teach me a lesson. The Wolf moves again.

“Don't.”

He stops. I stare at him. He stares at me.

“What do you want?”

His nose lifts. He sniffs.

Once.

Twice.

Then his gaze drops.

Not to my breasts.

Which is refreshing. And somewhat disappointing—no, I’m not going to look into that right now.

His gaze drops to my pocket.