Windsor's POV
The next class period arrived with all the enthusiasm of a funeral march.
I stared at the slip of paper in my hands, willing the words to change. *Knotting: Sacred Bonds and Biological Imperatives.*
Of all the topics in Miss Jameson's crystal bowl, I had to draw this one.
"Oh my," Miss Jameson chirped, reading over my shoulder. "How wonderfully synchronistic! The Moon Goddess clearly wants you to explore the deepest mysteries of pack bonding!"
My face burned. Around the classroom, other groups were discussing their topics in hushed, excited whispers. *Pack Hierarchies.* *Territory Marking.* *Alpha Courtship Rituals.* All normal, academic subjects.
Not the explicit biological mechanics of mating bonds.
"Don't look so mortified," Logan said, sliding into the desk beside me with that lazy smile. "It's just science, sweetheart."
I clutched the paper tighter. "It's not just science. It's..."
