Chapter 4 - Ronan

They summoned me before breakfast.

No warning. No knock. Just some assistant with shaking hands and a scroll bearing the Headmaster’s seal.

I didn’t bother changing.

Let them deal with me in bloodstained boots and yesterday’s shirt.

I followed the assistant through corridors that still smelled faintly of salt and silver, passing under arches carved with old wolf scripture. “Loyalty before legacy,” one of them read.

What a fucking joke.

Headmaster Arx’s office sat in the northern tower—cold stone, no warmth, no windows. Just a circular room lined with books and relics that hummed with old, dangerous magic. Two chairs. One desk. One very uncomfortable truth hung between us.

He didn’t offer a seatand I didn’t take one.

Arx regarded me with the kind of stillness only a vampire could manage—predator patience wrapped in perfect posture. “Mr. Draxmere,” he said, voice smooth as frostbite. “I trust the dorms haven’t been too… uncivilized.”

“They’re tolerable,” I said. “Runebound wolves mostly just glare. Haven’t tried to piss on my bed yet, so that’s a win.”

Behind me, I felt the warded door seal shut with a faint hiss.

Professor Marric stepped in next, all scarred muscle and blunt authority. He nodded at me like he’d rather be using me to demonstrate a chokehold.

Then came Professor Aldane.

Veyra fucking Aldane.

Her heels clicked sharply across the floor, cloak trailing smoke-colored silk lined in deep crimson. Her smile was polite, but her eyes glittered like she already knew every secret I hadn’t said aloud.

“I’ll get to it,” Arx said, lacing his fingers together. “You were sent here as a courtesy. A gesture. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”

“You dragged me up here just to remind me I’m on a leash?” I asked.

“Not a leash,” Aldane said smoothly. “A threshold.”

“You cross it,” Marric added, “and you’ll find we bite harder than your Alpha does.”

I  didn’t bother to point out if they thought they could bite harder than my father they obviously have never had to fight him. Even in sparring the man is deadly. There was no point saying anything.

They didn’t trust me. Not fully. Not yet. Maybe never.

“Your presence remains conditional,” Arx continued. “The Council has allowed you to integrate under the assumption that your loyalty lies with the safety of the student body, particularly one student.”

Nora.

The dragon girl.

The reason I was sent here.

“To be clear,” Aldane said, circling slowly to my left, “you are not to interfere with House politics. You are not to speak openly about your assignment. And you are certainly not to test the wards around Aurelian House without clearance.”

My jaw flexed. “And if someone else tests them?”

“Then you’ll be expected to do your job,” Marric said. “Quietly. Efficiently.”

Arx leaned back, expression unreadable. “We may not like having Bloodpine paws in our garden, but the threat at our gates is worse. So yes, Draxmere. You’re useful. For now.”

There was nothing more to say.

I nodded once, sharp and cold, then turned toward the door.

But as it unsealed, Aldane’s voice slipped behind me like a blade down my spine.

“Be careful, Ronan,” she said, soft and knowing. “Loyalty isn’t the only thing that gets tested here.”

I didn’t answer.

I just walked out before they could see how hard my pulse was hammering.

The hallway outside Arx’s office felt colder than when I’d entered.

Maybe it was the wards tightening behind me. Maybe it was the fact that three of the most dangerous people on this campus had just reminded me I was being tolerated, not trusted. Or maybe it was Aldane’s voice still slithering through my mind, whispering about tests and thresholds.

Either way, I didn’t head back to my room.

I had class.

A required one.

Historical Bloodline Studies.

I hated the name instinctively. Sounded like a glorified pissing contest dressed up in old parchment and pedigree charts.

I made it to the upper lecture hall just before the ward sealed the door behind me. The room was tiered in stone, lit by floating lanterns and narrow stained-glass windows that filtered in weak morning light. Desks were carved with protective runes, probably to keep students from hexing each other mid-lecture.

Kellan was already there, seated front row, back straight, pen in hand. Of course.

Caelum leaned against the wall near the window, arms crossed, eyes scanning every student that walked in like he was still expecting an ambush. Lucien slouched in a seat two rows back, twirling a fountain pen between long fingers like he was trying to decide whether to write notes or stab someone.

And then there was Thorne Blackpine.

He strolled in late. Sat near the center. Didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. His presence hit like a growl under the surface. Every inch of him screamed challenge, and I knew the second our eyes met that he still thought I’d gone soft coming here.

Let him think it.

The room went silent when Professor Veyra Aldane swept in.

Same dark silk cloak. Same crimson-trimmed sleeves. Same terrifying calm in her gaze.

“Legacy is the sharpest weapon a bloodline can wield,” she began, her voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. “But also the most fragile. Entire clans have fallen not by sword or spell, but by forgetting where they came from.”

Her eyes flicked to me. Brief. Surgical.

I forced myself not to clench my jaw.

“Today, we begin with the wolves,” she continued. “Specifically, the history of the northern packs, Runebound, Thornspire… and Bloodpine.”

That got a reaction. Kellan tensed. Thorne straightened slightly in his chair.

And me?

My gut coiled.

She walked as she spoke, gliding between rows with effortless grace. “Bloodpine is a curious anomaly. A pack born from exile and winter, shaped by survivalism, not diplomacy. No known allegiance to the original founding Houses. No written pact. No sigil recorded until three hundred years ago.”

She paused near my desk. “And yet, still standing.”

I met her gaze.

She didn’t blink.

“They are,” she said, tone neutral, “proof that legacy can be rewritten. Or erased.”

My fingers curled against the desk.

“And as we move into our next unit,” she continued, sweeping her attention back to the class, “we’ll examine the phenomena of violent convergence. When bloodlines, magic, and prophecy cross paths. Not through planning, but through chaos. Through conflict. Through war.”

Lucien raised a brow. “That sounds comforting.”

“Only to the foolish,” she replied smoothly. “Because convergence never arrives quietly. And it never leaves survivors untouched.”

Her gaze flicked back to me once more.

And this time, I could tell.

She knew more than she was saying.

About Bloodpine.

About me.

About why I was really here.

And if I didn’t watch her carefully, I had the sinking feeling she was going to learn more than I wanted her to.

By the time Professor Aldane had finished her lecture, I was already grinding my molars. 

Bloodpine. Convergence. Prophecy. Dropping them like little knives into the center of the room, she never so much as flinched once. Smiled her razor-edged smile and left us to wonder which one of us she was talking about. 

As she headed behind her desk, little copper-rimmed papers glided down the aisles between each row on a charmed breeze. Assignment sheets. 

“Your first assessment,” she announced, hands resting both palms flat on the lectern. “A paired research project. I’ve assigned partners based on magical compatibility, historical ties, and, in some cases,” Eyes sweeping over the class, and right to me, “mutual resistance.” 

Fuck. 

I snatched at the paper as it hovered over my desk. 

Ronan Draxmere & Kellan Reed. 

Fuck everything. 

Across the room, I heard Kellan mutter, “You’ve got to be kidding me,” in that impeccably annoyed tone of his that always sounded like he was both professional and pissed at the same time. 

Lucien whistled low and low. Caelum didn’t even bother to suppress the snort. 

I stuffed the paper into my coat pocket without reading the rest of it and rose the moment the dismissal charm buzzed in the room. I wasn’t going to wait around to discuss research options with the prince of precision. 

But Kellan was already on his way over. 

“This isn’t going to work,” he said as he stalked up to my desk. 

“Agreed,” I said, snapping my chair back. 

“You can’t even follow a basic corridor map without ending up in restricted territory, and now you’re having me write twelve pages with you?” 

“Watch it, Reed,” I snarled. “That temper’s starting to fray at the edges.” 

“Maybe it should,” he snapped back. “At least I know how to collar mine.” 

The hallway emptied around us as students began pouring out, most giving us a wide berth. It was the kind of energy that attracted attention—two wolves who were both two seconds away from a brawl, or something way more primal. 

“I have an idea,” I said, striding into his personal space. “You write your clean, little, acceptable essay. I’ll carve up a bitch across the cover page. Collaborative enough for you?” 

He inhaled sharply, chest rising and eyes flashing at me. “You’re a bloody bullhorn, Draxmere. The whole campus can hear you.” 

“Then stop watching me with your eyes.” 

That made him stop moving. 

Which was a problem, because that’s when I shouldn’t have said it. But I had. And we were standing too damn close now. I could feel his breath, and I could see the exact shade of fury tightening his jaw. 

Then, behind us— 

Someone’s shoulder slammed into mine. 

Thorne. 

Fuck, the bastard shoved past on his way out and muttered something I damn well heard that sounded a hell of a lot like “slippery ground,” but felt just as accidental as a punch to the face. 

Sent me forward. 

Right into Kellan. 

Kellan’s hand shot to my chest, and mine jerked up, palm coming to rest against the wall just behind his head, and stopping us both only a breath away from each other. 

From each other’s lips. 

Close enough, I could taste his exhale. His hand gripped hard into my coat. My pulse began pounding like a bloody siren. 

Neither of us moved.

We didn’t speak after it. 

Just stood there. 

Too close. Too aware. The space between us taut like a bowstring drawn to snapping. 

But neither of us made a move. 

Not closer. Not away. 

Until Kellan’s hand fell away from my chest, and mine dropped a second later from the wall. We parted, just like it hadn’t happened. Just like that, that thin sliver between our lips hadn’t nearly ignited the whole fucking hallway. 

He didn’t say a word as he turned and walked away. 

I didn’t either. 

Because I didn’t trust my voice to betray everything else I’d already shoved down. 

That night, I ran. 

Boots laced tight. Hood drawn down over my hair. I snuck out past curfew and into the old forest trail just to the north of the wards. It had breaks in the enchantments out here. Places where the spells had thinned with age, where the trees remembered what it was to shelter wolves. 

The air stung my lungs. The pace of my walk kept time with the thump of my heartbeat, pounding hard and fast like I could outrun whatever the hell was clawing at my insides. 

My wolf was nearly on the surface. Not fully shifted, just riding the edge. Ears up. Heart mad. We needed to burn off tension. 

The lust. 

The wrongness. 

But when I broke onto the ridge near the old treeline, I came to a stop. 

His scent hit me. 

Not hard. Just a trace. But enough. 

Kellan. 

Runebound pine and cold iron and that cool, disciplined burn I was starting to need like a fucking disease. 

I braced myself against the tree next to me, fingers digging into bark as my wolf surged forward with a sound that was no longer a growl. 

Not now. 

It wasn’t a mating pull. I knew that much. The Hunter’s Moon was months off. I wasn’t his. He wasn’t mine. 

But gods, my instincts didn’t care. 

And neither would my father, if he ever found out which direction my desire lay. 

Bloodpine heirs didn’t lust after their same gender. 

They bred. They led. They passed on the legacy. 

I was meant to pass on the legacy. 

Instead, I stood in a half-frozen forest and wanted the son of a bitch as badly as I’d been meant to hate him. Wanted him like he’d nearly kissed me, like it was the last sane thing he could do. 

I closed my eyes. 

And breathed him in again.