LOGINSilver Point University isn’t just the most elite supernatural college on the continent— It’s a pressure cooker of species dynamics, forbidden bonds, awakening magic, and the kind of heat no handbook could ever prepare a student for. Across ten interconnected shorts, Campus Wilds follows students from every corner of the supernatural world as they collide with fate, desire, and the explosive chaos of discovering their true mates amidst exams, dorm drama, and ancient rivalries. Every story adds heat, depth. The discovery that love and magic are the most dangerous subjects of all. In Campus Wilds, every species has a story. Every bond has a price. And no one leaves unchanged.
View MoreThe autumn sun slants through Ashwood Hall's grimy windows as Lyric Ames arrives, three hours late and utterly flustered. The administrative office had somehow managed to lose her paperwork twice, leaving her to navigate the sprawling campus with nothing but a hastily scribbled room number and the weight of her overpacked duffel bag cutting into her shoulder.
"Room 307," she mutters, copper-red braid swinging as she climbs the stairs. The suppressants she'd doubled up on this morning are already wearing thin, her skin prickling with unwelcome heat. Of all the days for her Omega biology to assert itself, the first day of college seems cruelly poetic. The scent hits her before she even reaches the third floor—rich, dark, intoxicating. Alpha. Not just any Alpha, but one whose pheromones seem specifically calibrated to make her knees weak. Lyric pauses on the landing, pressing her palm against the wall to steady herself. Inside room 307, Sebastian Hale freezes mid-motion, a textbook suspended halfway to the shelf. The scent wafting through the crack beneath the door is unmistakable—sweet honeysuckle and warm amber, with an undertone of something that calls to the most primal part of him. An Omega. His Alpha instincts roar to life, demanding he claim, protect, possess. His knuckles whiten around the book's spine as he inhales deeply, trying to regain control. This wasn't supposed to happen—not here, not now. He'd chosen Silver Point University specifically because of its progressive approach to designation dynamics, where Alphas and Omegas could coexist without the antiquated housing restrictions. "Dude, you're going to snap that poor calculus book in half," comes a wry voice from the corner of the room. Riley Trent looks up from her phone, hazel eyes narrowing as she observes the sudden tension in Sebastian's broad shoulders. "What's got you all—" She stops, sniffing the air. "Oh. Oh my." Sebastian doesn't respond, every muscle in his body is locked in place as he battles his instincts. The door handle turns with a soft click that seems to reverberate through his entire being. Lyric steps into the room, her amber eyes immediately finding his storm-gray ones. Time suspends between them, the air charged with invisible currents that neither can name but both can feel with devastating clarity. "Um, hi," Lyric manages, her voice smaller than she intends. The duffel bag slides from her shoulder to the floor with a soft thud. "I'm Lyric. I think there's been a mistake." Riley's gaze bounces between them, a slow smile spreading across her face as she witnesses the unmistakable pull of fated mates recognizing each other for the first time. "No mistake," she says softly, leaning back to observe the spectacle unfolding before her. "Though I'm starting to think the universe has quite the sense of humor." She gestures to the three beds arranged in the cramped dorm room, her collection of potted plants already claiming every available surface. "Welcome to supernatural housing shortage hell." Sebastian still hasn't moved, hasn't breathed properly since Lyric entered the room. His wolf paces beneath his skin, demanding he close the distance between them. The textbook in his hands creaks in protest as his grip tightens further. "I specifically requested Beta roommates," Lyric says, her voice trembling slightly as she tears her gaze away from Sebastian. The effort it takes is almost physical, like pulling apart magnets. "This has to be another mistake." Riley snorts, sliding off her bed and crossing to the mini-fridge wedged between two desks. "Honey, half the campus is dealing with housing mix-ups. Some freshman water nymphs flooded the entire east wing of Blackwood Hall yesterday during orientation. They're cramming everyone wherever they can fit." She pulls out three bottles of water, tossing one to Lyric who catches it reflexively. "Besides, Sebastian here is usually the model of Alpha restraint. Aren't you, Seb?" Sebastian finally sets down the textbook, the muscles in his jaw working as he struggles to form words that won't betray the storm raging inside him. "It's fine," he manages, though the single word emerges as a low growl that sends a visible shiver through Lyric's body. His wolf howls at her response, recognizing the instinctual pull between them. Riley watches the exchange with fascinated amusement, fully aware that she's witnessing something rare. As a Beta, she can smell the pheromones saturating the air but experiences them like catching a whiff of perfume rather than the full-body assault they inflict on Alphas and Omegas, but she doesn't need enhanced senses to recognize the electric current arcing between her new roommates. "Look," Lyric says, wrapping her arms around herself as if creating a physical barrier against Sebastian's scent. "I can go back to administration. There has to be another solution." Even as she says it, her Omega instincts scream in protest at the thought of leaving his presence. The suppressants in her system are fighting a losing battle against the biological imperative to stay near this Alpha—her Alpha, some treacherous part of her mind whispers. Sebastian takes a careful step backward, increasing the distance between them. The small act of self-restraint costs him dearly, every cell in his body demanding he move closer instead. "No," he says, his voice steadier now. "You've been shuffled around enough today. Just... stay." The word 'stay' resonates through Lyric's body like a command, though Sebastian hadn't infused it with Alpha influence. She finds herself nodding before she can think better of it. Riley claps her hands together, breaking the tension. "Well, now that's settled, I'm going to need you both to dial down whatever supernatural mating phenomenon is happening, because my plants are sensitive to pheromones." She gestures dramatically to a cluster of succulents arranged on the windowsill. "Especially Mr. Prickles here. He's already looking a bit flustered." Sebastian drags his gaze away from Lyric, focusing on the ridiculous-named cactus as if it might offer salvation from the thundering of his pulse. His wolf claws beneath his skin, demanding he cross the room and bury his face in the crook of Lyric's neck, where her scent would be strongest. "I'm not..." Lyric begins, then stops, unsure what she's even denying. The claim? The attraction? The fact that her body is responding to Sebastian's presence with an intensity that terrifies her? She takes a small step backward, bumping into the closed door. "I just need a minute." Riley's expression softens with unexpected empathy. Though the pheromone-heavy atmosphere registers to her Beta senses as merely a subtle change in the room's ambiance, she recognizes the panicked look in Lyric's eyes. "Bathroom's down the hall to the left," she offers, nodding toward the door. "I'll make sure Broody McAlphaface behaves himself while you're gone." Gratitude flashes across Lyric's face as she fumbles behind her for the doorknob, nearly stumbling in her haste to escape the room's charged atmosphere.“I’m fine,” she says, or tries to. Her voice is hoarse, an unfamiliar rasp, and the words don’t come out as bravely as she intends. There’s a pause while she finds her breath, then she pushes a wry smile to her lips. “Though I think you three just announced our business to the entire campus.” Kael, ever the storm-bringer, doesn’t even pretend to be sheepish. He laughs outright—a wolfish, unrepentant sound that vibrates straight through her spine. “Let them hear,” he says, pressing his mouth to her bare shoulder. “Let them know you’re ours now.” Rion’s fingers go still against her thigh. The silence that follows is not empty, but charged—a moment of reckoning as the full import of the words settles on the ruined bedspread between them. Aquina feels the gravity of it, the way their mutual claim has redrawn the map of her life, shifting tectonic plates she didn’t even know existed beneath her skin. She wonders what it will mean for her, for the dragons, for the fragile alliances that g
The aftermath is nothing like Aquina expects. The agony and euphoria of the claiming leave her boneless, skin hypersensitized, every breath scraping raw at the hollow of her throat. Where instinct should have demanded retreat—shame, panic, the urge to barricade herself behind a wall of ice and silence—she finds only quiet. A strange, luminous quiet, like the minute after a lightning strike, when the world holds its breath and nothing dares to move. Draven gathers her first. His arm snakes around her middle, anchoring her to him with the proprietary ease of someone who’s never doubted his right to possess. The scent of embers and scorched earth clings to his skin, the heat of him throwing off invisible waves that bathe her spine in perpetual warmth. In the golden hush, his eyes have gentled, molten metal cooling to a forgiving amber. Still, there’s nothing soft about the way he looks at her. His gaze catalogs every mark they’ve left, from the reddened crescents along her hips to the b
Their rhythm is painful and beautiful. Together, the three dragons orchestrate her body like a symphony: Draven spewing heat that forces her open, Kael anchoring her with the steady violence of his desire, Rion chilling the burn just enough that she doesn’t combust completely. Her sense of self begins to fragment—first at the edges, then in great, reckless shards as the sensation blots out thought.The dragon mark on her back goes incandescent, a wild starburst of pain-pleasure that eclipses everything else. It throbs in time with the roll of thunder outside, each pulse another step toward oblivion. There’s no room for shame, no space for second-guessing; just the desperate, shattering drive to reach the peak they are building for her.She’s falling before she realizes it. The room tilts, vision swimming as the climax hits with an elemental violence she has never known. Her own magic flares in self-defense, but the dragons absorb it, feed on it, reflect it. Back tenfold. The three of
Aquina’s world is reduced to sensation—pure, unfiltered, and all-consuming.Fire first: it blooms under Draven’s palm as he brackets her ribs, each stroke a golden flash that burns without ever harming; instead, it amplifies, goading her body to new heights of hunger. The rhythm of his hips is relentless, calculated, as if he’s determined to imprint his essence into her with every thrust. His breath is heat and smoke at her ear, his words little more than hungry growls and possessive murmurs in draconic she only half-understands but is helplessly addicted to.Behind her, Kael’s presence crackles with the static tension of a gathering storm. When his massive hands land on her hips, the contact is jolt—electric, wild, and just this side of dangerous. He holds her steady, each movement a deliberate test of how much she can take. Lightning traces up her spine in invisible arcs with every grind and pull, the sensation so sharp and sweet it leaves her gasping. His mouth is at her nape, tong






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