Fifty Shades of Werewolves

Leila’s thighs clenched the moment he spoke.

“Sit down. Quietly.” The words weren’t loud, but the low timber of his voice sent a violent shiver through her spine and made her slick with heat in a way that was almost embarrassing. It was her first day back at Crescent Hill Academy, the elite school hidden deep in the northern wilds where supernatural legacies were molded into power. Her last year. Her final semester. And she had planned to remain invisible until graduation. But then he walked into the classroom, tall and calm and cold, dressed in an all-black button-up that hugged his lean muscular frame like a second skin, and all her plans went to hell.

Professor Raine.

That was what the attendance sheet called him. But her wolf, the one just under her skin that had begun stirring in strange ways lately, didn’t see him as a man or a teacher. She saw him as Alpha. The kind that made females tremble, submit, and ache. Leila didn’t want to admit it, but her panties were already damp, and he had barely looked in her direction.

He turned toward the whiteboard, wrote his name in swift strokes, then began to speak about cellular regeneration in lycanthropes. Leila wasn’t listening. Her eyes were locked on his back, on the way his muscles shifted beneath the fabric of his shirt. Every move was precise. Controlled. Dangerous. He exuded that unmistakable scent of power. Not just Alpha power, but the kind of restraint that hinted at violence barely tamed. The kind of control that made a girl’s heat intensify with every heartbeat.

She bit her lip and crossed her legs. It was happening again. That unbearable warmth. That wetness. Her scent had begun to change. She knew it. She could feel it, radiating from her skin like a silent scream. Her heat cycle was approaching early. The girls in her dorm warned her this might happen. At Crescent Hill, unmated females often triggered early heat when around high-ranked Alphas. And Professor Raine was more than just high-ranked. He was lethal.

He turned suddenly, eyes sweeping the room like a predator scanning a pack. When his eyes landed on her, Leila forgot how to breathe. His eyes were cold silver, the kind that froze the world but burned the skin. Her thighs trembled. Her inner wolf whimpered, baring its neck inside her chest.

“You,” he said. “Name?”

Leila’s lips parted, but nothing came out. She could barely form a word with the way her core pulsed between her legs. His eyes narrowed slightly, not out of amusement or kindness, but something else. Something far more primal. She swallowed hard and tried again.

“Leila. Leila Keene.”

He nodded once. The corner of his lip twitched, but didn’t quite smile. “Pay attention, Miss Keene. Or I’ll make sure you do.”

A few students snickered. She didn’t care. Her breath came fast and shallow. Her n*ppl*s hardened beneath her blouse and she cursed her choice of wearing thin lace underneath. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d never reacted to a man like this before. No one ever made her feel like her entire body was on fire just by speaking.

He moved back to the board and resumed the lesson, but Leila couldn’t focus. Not when her heat was crawling up her spine and curling around her brain like smoke. Her wolf was panting now, clawing against her skin, begging for relief. For touch. For claiming.

Her fingers gripped the edge of her desk so tight her knuckles turned white. Her body betrayed her completely. Every breath he took stirred her scent. She could feel his aura brushing against her skin, testing her, teasing her. She was on the edge of something dangerous and exhilarating, and she couldn’t even look away.

When the bell rang, she gasped like someone had poured ice water down her back. Her thighs were sticky. Her breath ragged. Students filed out of the room as if nothing had happened, but Leila remained seated, trying to gather herself before she stood and embarrassed herself with the trail of arousal clinging to her inner thighs.

“Everyone out. Miss Keene, stay behind.”

His voice made her freeze again. Her eyes snapped up. He wasn’t smiling. He didn’t look pleased or curious. He looked… possessive.

The last student shut the door behind them. The click of the handle sounded like a lock slamming shut in her chest.

He stepped closer.

“You’re leaking scent all over my classroom,” he said calmly, as if talking about spilled ink. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Leila’s mouth opened, but her voice was trapped behind the wall of tension building in her gut.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Your heat’s coming early, isn’t it?”

His words landed like a slap between her legs. She nodded slowly, cheeks flushed with shame and something darker. Excitement.

He took another step forward. Leila could feel the pull of his dominance now, the invisible string that connected her body to his, a magnetic force older than rules, older than the school, older than her sense of control.

“You know the consequences of this,” he murmured. “You stay in heat around me, I will take you. Not because I want to. But because I won’t be able to help it.”

Leila’s breath caught.

“Then… don’t help it,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

His eyes darkened. She could swear his canines lengthened for a split second. The air between them crackled with raw energy, like lightning about to strike.

“Careful,” he warned, voice gravel now. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

“I know exactly what I need.”

It came out desperate. Pleading. Her knees threatened to buckle. Her panties were soaked, her inner thighs damp with shameful need. Her wolf was begging to be taken. She stepped closer. Close enough that his scent enveloped her completely. Pine. Leather. Smoke. Sin.

Then, in a flash, she was backed against the whiteboard, his hand pressed flat beside her head, his body caging hers without touching.

“You’re a student,” he growled. “I’m your teacher.”

“And yet you’re the only one who can stop this ache inside me.”

Her confession made his nostrils flare.

Then, his fingers brushed her neck.

Only a whisper of contact. But it was enough.

Her knees gave way.

He caught her effortlessly, his hand sliding down to grip her hip. His touch branded her. Claimed her. His control snapped for just a second and he leaned in close, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply.

“You smell like trouble,” he murmured, voice thick with lust. “And heat.”

“And you smell like salvation.”

That did it.

He crushed her lips with his own. It was brutal. Raw. He kissed her like a starving beast. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms tangled around his neck, and her body arched to meet every grinding thrust of his hips.

But just as quickly as it began, he broke away.

“No,” he snarled, voice trembling. “Not here. Not yet.”

He stepped back, breathing hard, eyes wild.

“Go. Now. Before I ruin us both.”

Leila stumbled out of the classroom, heart racing, body throbbing, thighs soaked with need.

And as the door slammed behind her, she knew one thing for sure.

She wouldn’t survive another class with him.

But she would never miss a single one.

The next morning, Leila couldn’t look at herself in the mirror without seeing his mouth on hers. His scent still clung to her, woven into her skin like a ghost. She had tried scrubbing it off in the shower, but every drop of water only reminded her how wet she had been under his touch. Her lips still tingled from the way he devoured them. Her thighs ached from the way she had wrapped them around his waist. Her heat hadn’t faded. If anything, it had gotten worse.

She could barely sit still through breakfast. Her cereal remained untouched as she stared out the window, chewing her lower lip raw. The students in the cafeteria talked and laughed around her, oblivious to the chaos bubbling under her skin. Oblivious to the fact that the girl at the corner table was about to explode from need.

She shouldn’t have provoked him. She should have kept her mouth shut and her legs closed. But now the damage was done, and her body refused to listen to logic