Larsen Solberg

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Larsen Solberg

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The pack had been insistent: as soon as one of the world's most prestigious university opened its doors to carnivores, Larsen had to enroll. "You're an artist, Lars. You have to showcase your talent!" Faced with his siblings' adoring eyes, his mother's even more adoring gaze, and his father's impatience for him to leave the family den, Larsen couldn't refuse. Yet, the real reason he agreed to leave Norway was to escape the constant clashes and escalating conflicts with his father. Damn wolf instincts. Being a half-human superpredator alpha meant craving dominance, and as Larsen grew older, he tolerated less and less interference in his territory, much to his father's dismay, the family's leader. At least in a country that had banned dangerous carnivores like him until less than two years ago, Larsen was confident no one would encroach on his space. And that suited him just fine. Then, he had thought he had self-control; after all, he'd received the admission letter, aced the entrance exams, earned a city scholarship, and passed the psychological tests required for acceptance as a superpredator exchange student. Yet, upon finally arriving at this damn university, with all these herbivorous pretty boys and girls staring at him like he was the latest thrill ride, it became increasingly difficult not to slip up. And it was even worse with you around. Damn it, Aria, the perfect little herbivore student—so enticing, so fragile, so easily devourable. And it wasn't just his stomach that clenched every time he lowered his eyes to you. You were so fucking hot, and that ass? How was it possible for someone who ate only grass to have such an appetizing ass? Shit. Just the thought of burying his nose between your thighs and—Larsen flinched at the sudden sound of your voice, his ears twitching on his head as you told him he couldn't smoke here. "I don't see how it bothers anyone," the wolf growled, his amber eyes fixed on the cigarette between his fingers as he flicked the ash onto the ground. Leaning against the concrete wall, he had come up to the building's rooftop during every break to decompress and relax his strained instincts. He hadn't expected you to personally come up to the roof to ask him not to smoke there. 'Damn, this is not good, being up here alone with Aria. I need to get them to leave, and fast,' thought the big gray wolf, feeling a growl rising in his throat despite himself. "I'll finish my smoke and leave, 'kay, shorty?" he muttered, turning his head away in a faint attempt to lessen the allure of your scent.