Chapter 4

The next afternoon, my mentor called me in urgently.

"Ava, you need to present your graduation trial plan to the Lycan of the Bloodmoon Core," my mentor said, his tone serious. "Jaxson Wylde personally requested to see you."

My blood ran cold.

Jaxson Wylde. The Alpha of Alphas. The undisputed ruler of the Bloodmoon Core. The only true Lycan to walk these halls in a generation. His name was a legend, whispered with a mixture of terror and awe.

More importantly, though he was graduating with us, we all knew he was the next Chairman of the Alliance.

My trial scores, my very entry into the Alliance, depended on him.

They say one look from him could make the strongest Alpha kneel. His wolf was so powerful it could dominate an entire pack.

I'd never spoken to him. Why would he want to see me?

I pushed open the conference room door. The moment I entered, the air thickened, heavy with a power that demanded submission. Jaxson sat at the head of the table, an apex predator in his natural habitat. His mere presence was a physical weight, pressing down on my wolf, urging it to kneel.

It was the absolute dominance of the Lycan bloodline. It made me want to bow my head in reverence.

He wore a black combat uniform, buttoned all the way to the top. His face was a little pale. He seemed to be fighting through some kind of pain.

His deep, golden eyes swept over me. My own wolf instinctively wanted to submit.

"Sit," he said. His voice was low and raspy, an undeniable command.

I sat down stiffly, trying to look calm.

"Report on your trial proposal."

I took a deep breath and began my well-rehearsed presentation.

But my nerves made my movements stiff. Halfway through, the collar of my shirt slipped.

The silver, crescent-moon-shaped birthmark below my collarbone was exposed.

I've had it since I was born. My family always called it a "Beta's defect."

But Alpha_X used to say, obsessively: [It’s a gift from the Moon Goddess. A mark that belongs only to me. I want to kiss it day and night.]

The moment the mark was visible, Jaxson’s gaze locked onto it.

The ice in his eyes melted, replaced by a raw, feverish heat. It was a look of such desperate longing, it was almost painful to witness.

His stare was so intense it made my skin crawl.

I quickly pulled my collar up, covering the damn birthmark.

Why was he looking at me like that?

Was he displeased? Was he going to deny me entry to the Alliance?

Just then, the conference room door was thrown open.

Blake strode in.

My wolf whimpered, still unable to fight the hatred I felt for this Alpha.

But Blake didn't even look at me. He walked straight to Jaxson.

He'd been trying to buddy up to Jaxson for ages, hoping for an advantage in the future Alliance.

"Jax, my man!" Blake clapped him on the shoulder. "You went way too hard on yourself in the locker room before the bonfire last night. Did you really have to take a knife to your own chest, so close to the heart?"

He lowered his voice, speaking in that man-to-man tone. "Is some woman really worth torturing yourself like that?"

My heart skipped a beat.

Some woman?

Even a powerful Lycan like Jaxson could get his heart broken?

Jaxson shot Blake a look so lethal it could kill. The pure Lycan pressure made Blake shut his mouth instantly.

"Get out," Jaxson's voice was colder than ice.

Blake scurried away.

I looked at him with a flicker of pity.

Looks like we were in the same boat. No fated mate, and hurt by someone we cared about.

But that wasn't my business.

Right now, I just wanted to pass my trials and get into the Alliance.

"That concludes my report." I gathered my files, keeping my head bowed respectfully. "If there’s nothing else, I’ll just…"

"Sit down," Jaxson's voice was absolute.

I sat back down, rigid.

He stared at me, his expression unreadable.

"As a Beta in the Alpha trials, you'll be torn to shreds."

"I…"

"Tonight. Nine o’clock. The Bloodmoon Core’s private training room. I need to assess your physical readiness."

It wasn't a request. It was an order.

And he was the future Chairman of the Alliance. I couldn't refuse.

I could only nod.

At nine o'clock, I walked into the Bloodmoon Core’s restricted area, my stomach in knots.

It was heavily guarded, usually off-limits to everyone.

The training room was empty except for a few dim overhead lights and a large sparring mat.

Jaxson was already there.

He’d taken off his stiff uniform. He was just wearing a black sleeveless tank top.

Veins stood out on his powerful forearms. The perfect, sculpted lines of his muscles were explosive under the dim light.

"Leader…" I began.

"As a Beta in the Alpha trials, you will be torn apart," Jaxson repeated, his voice low and raspy. "I need to see your defensive instincts. Come at me."

I clenched my jaw and threw a punch.

This was for my future. For the Alliance. I held nothing back.

It was useless.

This wasn't a lesson. It was an aggressive Lycan hunt.

He was like a beast, venting some kind of manic energy.

It was over in three moves. A blur of motion, and the world spun. My back hit the mat with a force that knocked the air from my lungs. And then he was there, covering me, a mountain of muscle and heat.

With one hand, he pinned both of my wrists above my head.

His long, powerful legs forced my own apart, pinning me completely.

The position was too intimate. Too far over the line.

I was panting, my chest heaving.

We were so close I could hear the steady, wild beat of his heart, like a war drum in his chest.

His body was burning hot.

And in that moment, I smelled it. An aggressive, sharp scent of pine and snow.

And underneath that cold scent was something else. The thick, metallic smell of fresh blood.

He was hurt.

It was the wound Blake mentioned. The one near his heart.

Before I could think, Jaxson's hot, heavy breath washed over my face.

His pureblood golden eyes locked onto mine.

His gaze slid from my swollen lips down to my collarbone, to where my birthmark was hidden under my shirt.

He lowered his head. His nose almost touched my cheek.

The cold, ruthless Lycan leader’s voice was suddenly hoarse, broken. It held a hint of heartbreaking humility.

"Ava," he breathed, his voice a raw, broken thing.

"If your mate... if he was misunderstood... if you blocked him…"

His thumb, rough and calloused, gently stroked the pulse point on my wrist.

"Would you give him one chance—just one—to prove he's worthy?"