Free Weremones by Buffi BeCraft-Woodall

him, but he was concerned about their future.
    Adam slid the printouts back into the envelopes and moved them aside to concentrate on the bills, most of which he paid electronically.
    The report cards drew his attention once more. He stared at the neat manila squares on the edge of his desk.
    Frowning, Adam pulled out the failing printouts again and scanned the contents.
    He tried to pin down exactly what bothered him. He set those aside and pulled out Bradley and Brandon’s grades. Both were passing.
    Bradley consistently brought in high A’s. His little beta wolf should be in advanced classes. Nothing ever dropped below a ninety-five. Brandon was a steady middle of the road B. He carried an eighty-five in every class, every six weeks.
    Adam glanced at the other report cards. Fluctuating C’s and F’s marked the other three. Mark might even have to go to summer school to make the next grade.
    Adam picked up the twin’s grades again, studied the averages. He set one down and stared at the other as an idea took hold.
    He reached for his desk drawer that served as a filing cabinet, where he put the boys’ school records and his guardianship papers. As a lawyer, his brother was nothing if not thorough. Dom had made sure that Adam had the boys’ medical and school background, as well as documentation of his legal guardianship.
    Adam flipped through folders until he came to the right set of grade printouts. He pulled them out and unclipped them, scanning the boy’s averages over the years. All of the boys were smart and if they could be motivated would be college material. This particular one was brilliant. It was a near perfect plan.
    Third grade, second six weeks, was when a nine-year-old child figured out how to stay unnoticed by becoming completely average. In Garrick’s pack, a reward for your achievements wasn’t a good thing. Failing grades would have been a bad idea because a call from the school would have irritated the boys’ guardians.
    Hell, his three underachievers had been barely passing when Adam took over.
    Maybe that was weird sign of trust in itself. That they trusted him not to hurt them if they messed up. You never knew with kids.
    He felt like he’d discovered a key to the puzzle that was his pack. Adam laughed.
    Damn he was proud of that kid.
    Potential. It was all about potential.
    Adam ran a hand through his drying hair.
    What kind of idiots missed the obvious? With these kind of fixed grades, he’d bet his tail that boy was the smartest of the litter. That kid would be hell in Vegas.
    He put away all of the report cards but the one with the most potential. He still had to talk to the others about failing grades, assign punishments, and all that.
    Excitement and pride thrummed through his veins. He nearly picked up the phone to call and brag, but he didn’t know Diana Ridley’s phone number. Mack would probably listen, but he didn’t know if the man would understand. Adam put the phone down and decided he’d call his parents, his human parents, later.
    But damn! An eighty-five in every subject since the third grade? What kind of planning did that take? The boy would have to have known how to take everyday work, homework, and final exams into account, and average them out accordingly. He’d have to plan out each paper ever turned in for the appropriate grade. Adam shook his head, amazed. Then walking to the door, Adam stuck his head out into the hall and bellowed.
    “Brandon!”
    The raw scent of fear reached the office before the boy. From behind his desk, Adam watched the door open, slowly, like a scene in a horror movie where the victim is brutally attacked. Brandon stood in the door, eyes down, waiting.
    Geez. The boy was about to piss his pants. Adam wanted to kill that bastard Garrick again. This time he’d castrate him before strangling him with his own entrails.
    Death had been too easy for Garrick Moser.
    Adam gestured at one of the chairs in front of his desk.
    “Shut the door