Untamed (Rejected Mate Academy #1) - E. M. Moore Page 0,16

a seat, the wood protesting under my weight. When I asked Mia what she thought my advisor wanted to meet me about, she said she didn’t know but guessed it had something to do with my schedule if I hadn’t gotten that yet.

Instead, the first words out of Ms. Ebon’s mouth shock me. “I need you to fill out this questionnaire about Jonah.” I take it from her, and after quickly scanning it, I peer back at her with a frown. “Are you kidding?”

“That’s the second time you’ve asked me that. I’ll once again assure you, Kinsey, that I have a very important job to do. My methods work, so if you would please fill out the questionnaire, I will share some information with you.”

I tap my feet against the floor and read through the paper again. This is different than anything I could’ve imagined. Do you find your mate attractive? What could your mate do to help you find them more attractive? Do you like his/her personality? This sounds more like I’m signing up for online dating.

I study Ms. Ebon from the corner of my eye, but she’s already moved on to other work. This seems like a freaking waste of time. We’re talking about fate here, right? What does it matter if we find them attractive when it was meant to be?

With a sigh, I resign myself to filling the form out. I pluck a pen from her mug of writing utensils and get to work.

Do I find Jonah attractive? A part of me wants to get revenge and say “no, he’s a petty asshole.” But Jonah is a god, to put it lightly. I’ve always lusted after him, to be honest. Every female wolf did. It’s actually shocking that Jonah would have a problem with his mate. Which means, obviously, I am the problem, aren’t I?

The form leaves a huge space for me to answer the question, but I don’t feel particularly loquacious about this topic, so I just write Yes. It kills me to do it.

What could your mate do to help you find them more attractive? I smirk. Ha. That’s easy. Don’t be a dick, I write in the box. Then, because apparently I am talkative about this topic, I keep going. It would be nice to have a mate that was open-minded and wouldn’t jump to conclusions. I find that really sexy.

Do you like his/her personality?

Ha. Another good one. Not particularly. I was treated like an outsider since I was a pup due to something that’s not true and completely out of my control.

I tap my pencil against the wooden desk, thinking. My statement is entirely accurate. However, thinking back, Jonah was always nice and respectful to others. I can’t remember a time when he participated in talking shit about me either. He didn’t stop it, but he didn’t actively participate. He just ignored me. I bite my lip and add: But I saw him be nice and respectful to other people, so that’s not all that bad.

I fill out the rest of the form, trying hard not to roll my eyes at some of the other questions, including What would you want to do on a date? What do you like to eat? If you could go anywhere, where would you go? There are more questions concerning him, too, as well as abstract ones like What would you want in an ideal guy? To that, I answer: Just someone to come home to that will accept me for me.

It’s a little too much like a dating profile, but I go with it. Ms. Ebon has awesome statistics, so she must be doing something right. At least, I have to tell myself that because the alternative is too scary.

“Finished,” I tell Ms. Ebon.

She holds her hand out. “Excellent.”

I pass the form back to her, and she reads it over while leaning in her chair. I take the time to study her room more. There are a lot of textbooks about human personalities and interpersonal relationships. She has one book that stands out called The Study of Love. Maybe I need to check that one out. I could use some pointers.

I want to smack myself as soon as I think it. The warring part of my personality is arguing that we shouldn’t have to work to be someone else for our fated mate. This is all bullshit.

Ms. Ebon stands. “Come with me, dear.” She walks from her office, and I follow. Other shifters traverse the