Five

CLARISSA

      Probing stares lingered on me as I stepped into the spacious school grounds, clutching at the straps of my backpack. I could hear them whispering to themselves, probably gossiping about how shabby I looked and how someone like me had sneaked into the Academy.

That's right.

I'd somehow made it to the Werewolf Academy after my bargain with my mate.

He'd tried to talk me off my decision, but this was a matter of life and death.

Lifting a hand, I knocked on the door of the registration office. A high-pitched voice responded, urging me to step in.

When I strode in, I was greeted by the sight of a plus-sized red-haired woman. She wore thick-framed glasses and a red dress. On her table was a polished nameplate with the name 'Lauren Philips.'

She eyed me from top to bottom with a look of barely concealed irritation.

"Are you lost?" She asked, her voice laced with impatience.

"I'm here for registration," I replied, and she frowned.

"Where's your invitation?" She asked.

I froze. My fingers clenched involuntarily around the straps of my bag. I hadn't thought that far ahead. I should've expected this, but in the chaos of my arrival, I hadn't prepared well enough.

Before I could respond, a knock on the door interrupted us.

The newcomer didn't wait for an answer before pushing the door open. He had a head full of tousled brown curls and bright green eyes that glimmered with mischief. He seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place him.

"Hey, purple eyes," he greeted with an easy smile.

I blinked, surprised.

He held out an envelope to me and raised a brow.

"You dropped this outside," he continued.

I stared at him in suspicion, unsure of what his true intentions were.

"You don't have your invitation letter with you, do you?" He asked, and I forced out a smile, moving over to take it from him. Once I was close enough, his smile widened, and his gaze locked with mine.

"You can thank me later," he told me. Then he walked away.

Wide-eyed, Ms. Philips snatched the envelope from my hand and tore it open. The moment she pulled out the invitation letter, her expression shifted from disdain to shock. Her beady eyes bulged, darting between me and the letter in her shaking hands.

"Are you... Clarissa Nightbourne?" she whispered.

"Yes."

She swallowed hard. Her fingers trembled as she grabbed her stamp and marked the letter before handing me a form.

...

I was just about to leave when the door swung open again.

I didn't need to turn to know who it was. The air itself shifted, carrying his scent-dark spice, crisp cedar, and something unmistakably him.

My mate.

A slow chill crept up my spine. What was he doing here?

"Good morning, Professor Hale," Ms. Philips purred, her voice dripping with sugar.

I went rigid.

No.

That couldn't be right. I must have misheard her.

My head snapped toward him, my breath catching in my throat.

He's a professor at the Academy?

I couldn't breathe. My mind reeled, struggling to process what this meant.

He wasn't just some distant Alpha I could avoid. He was here. In this school.

Oblivious to my spiralling thoughts, Ms. Philips leaned forward, a coy smile curving her lips as she tucked strands of red hair behind her ear.

"Who's the new student?" he asked, his tone neutral.

She giggled.

I clenched my fists.

"Someone unimportant," she said dismissively, flicking her wrist as if I were a speck of dust on her desk. "I doubt she'll last long here."

Heat flared in my chest-anger and humiliation surging through me.

I didn't wait to hear more. I stormed out of her office, my heartbeat hammering in my ears.

My hands shook as I walked aimlessly through the halls, my mind a tangled mess.

My mate was a professor.

A bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat. The universe had a twisted sense of humour.

I clenched my jaw, trying to push down the emotions clawing at my chest.

I needed to focus. I hadn't come here for him—I had come here for survival. And I had an advantage now.

The note.

I pulled the paper from my pocket, running my fingers over its smooth surface. Someone had gone through the trouble of sending this to me. But why?

And that guy from earlier... Had he really just found the invitation lying around? Or had he planted it?

Too many questions. Not enough answers.

But there was one thing I did know. I needed help. And unfortunately, there was only one person in this school that could give it to me.

Professor Hale.

...

From my hiding position behind Professor Hale's desk, I heard the door open. I'd sneaked in after locating his office right after registrations.

"Who's there?" I heard him say, and I winced. He must've perceived my scent the moment he stepped into his office. Could he already tell that I was the intruder?

"Do not make me repeat myself," he stated with a dead serious tone.

Biting my lower lip, I stepped out of my hiding place, straightening my posture. He stood near the door, the soft glow of the lights illuminating his gorgeous face. Dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black dress pants, he looked just as devastatingly attractive as always.

Again, I was tempted to throw myself into his arms, but my tattered pride wouldn't let me. Especially not when he keeps acting like he doesn't want me.

He eyed me with a stony expression on his face, his brows twitching.

"What are you doing in here, Ms. Nightbourne?" He asked, moving towards his desk with the bundle of papers in his hand.

"Do you find me attractive?" I asked, and he quietly placed the papers on his desk before returning his stare to my face.

"Why should I answer that question? You are my student, are you not?" He stated, his response sending a wave of annoyance through me.

"Can you not stop treating me like that? I am still your mate. As far as I can tell, you haven't rejected me...yet," I said, and his gaze flickered to mine, dark and intense.

"Don't you have a class to attend?" He demanded, and I sighed, moving away from his seat to stand in front of me.

I exhaled through my nose, stepping closer, determined to break through that wall of his.

"Professor Hale, why are you so uptight?" I challenged, tilting my head.

He didn't respond. Instead, he turned, heading for his chair, as if I wasn't worth his time.

I moved before I could think, my hand catching his wrist.

The reaction was immediate but not violent.

One moment, I was standing, my fingers curled around his wrist. The next, he turned, his movements fluid and precise, guiding me backward until my hips met the edge of the desk. His hands found my waist—not rough, but firm enough to keep me in place.

Then, with a careful ease that sent my heart pounding, he lifted me onto the polished surface.

There was no force, no aggression—just controlled strength and deliberate restraint.

I felt the steady warmth of his touch, the subtle way his grip softened when he realized how tense I'd become.

Even now, even with all his coldness, he was careful with me.

With us.

His thumb ghosted over my hip, barely there, as if reminding himself to be cautious. I knew he was aware of my condition—of the life growing inside me. And yet, beneath his restraint, I could sense the war raging within him.

The way he wanted to push me away.

The way he wanted to pull me closer.

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering in my throat.

"Your neck," he suddenly said, and I realized that he was staring at the bruise on my neck, a remnant of the cruelty I'd suffered in Mount Veil Pack. Self-conscious, I brought a hand to my bruise to cover it up.

"Do you really have to stay in this school? It's not for people like you," he said, his voice laced with undertones of something dark. I should have taken it as a warning, but instead, warmth bloomed inside my chest, a smirk curling my lips.

"You do care about me after all," I pointed out, and he released me, pulling away from me.

"You should leave," he droned, and I straightened, steeling my resolve. I'd come here to get his help. There was no way I would leave without an attempt.

"I have a proposal for you," I announced, and he stiffened.

"A proposal?"

Swallowing hard, I moved towards him until the space between us was negligible. He towered above me, and he radiated power. The kind of power I wanted on my side. There was no way I was giving up on him.

"I can give you what you want, professor," I said, my gaze trained on him. He moved closer to me until my back hit the wall. Then his gaze dropped to my lips, his golden eyes taking on a crimson hue.

"And what's that, Miss Nightbourne?" He said, his voice dropping to a heart-racing whisper, sending shivers down my spine.

"Me."

Before he could say anything else, I leaned in and kissed him.

"Clarissa," he groaned, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me closer before he suddenly wrenched himself away, his breathing ragged.

"This is unacceptable-"

"I need your protection and guidance!" I blurted out, my voice raw with desperation.

His frown deepened.

"In return, you get an heir and a Luna from the bloodline of Lunar royalty." I watched as his expression shifted, realization dawning in his eyes.

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

"So tell me, old geezer," I continued, tilting my head, my heart pounding. "Are you going to let your stubbornness cost you something this valuable?"

The air between us crackled with tension as I awaited his response.