Masked Desire

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, my hands trembling as I applied the scent-masking formula to my neck. The clear liquid felt cool against my skin but I knew the protection it offered was far more important than any momentary discomfort.

"Jason, are you almost done? The car will be here in twenty minutes." My father's voice carried through the door; his tone was tight with worry.

"Almost," I called back, my voice steadier than I felt.

This was it. After years of hiding, of being trapped within the confines of our family's remote property, I was about to walk into the wolf's den-literally. Blackmoor Alpha Academy awaited, and I, a male omega masquerading as an alpha, was willingly entering a school filled with the most dominant werewolves in the country.

I stared at my reflection. At twenty, I had the build of a beta, lean but muscular enough to pass casual inspection. My dark hair fell just below my ears, and my green eyes—my mother's eyes—stared back at me with a mixture of determination and fear. Nothing about my appearance screamed "omega," but my scent would betray me in an instant without the formula.

The formula that had cost my family everything.

I applied another layer to my wrists and behind my ears, making sure to coat every scent gland. Our family, the Blackwoods, had once been respected and owerful. My great-grandfather had helped found Blackmoor Academy, back when our bloodline produced strong alphas generation after generation. The academy itself was named after our family's ancestral territory—a bitter irony now that we were persona non grata in werewolf society.

Three generations ago, something changed in our genetics. The first male omega was born to the Blackwood line, my uncle Elias. He was discovered and claimed before his eighteenth birthday, essentially becoming breeding stock for the powerful Ravencrest pack after that we never saw him again. Then came my cousin Marcus, he was whisked away to become the property of the Silverthorn family.

When I presented as an omega at sixteen, my parents knew they had to break the cycle. My father who was once a respected beta of the Werewolf Council, cashed in every favor, liquidated our remaining assets and nearly bankrupted us to develop this formula, it was a scent-blocker that could fool even the most sensitive alpha nose.

"Jason?" This time it was my mother, her voice soft but urgent outside the bathroom door. "Let me help you with the final application."

I unlocked the door, my mother's face was drawn with worry, the lines around her eyes deeper than they should be at her age. She carried the weight of our family's fall from grace heavily.

"Turn around," she said, taking the small crystal vial from my hands. Her fingers were gentle as she applied the formula to the scent gland at the base of my skull—the one I could never reach properly myself. "Remember, reapply every twelve hours and no exceptions. If you sweat heavily or get wet then do it sooner."

"I know, Mom, we've been over this a thousand times."

She capped the vial and pressed it into my palm, closing my fingers around it, “and now it's a thousand and one. This isn't just about you, Jason. If they discover what you are..."

She didn't need to finish, we both knew the stakes. Male omegas were rare, less than one in ten thousand werewolves. Our fertility rates were high, our compatibility with alphas nearly perfect. In the eyes of werewolf law, we were resources, not people.

"I'll be careful," I promised “no one will know."

My father appeared in the doorway, holding a leather-bound journal, “this contains the clause, it's proof that any Blackwood who graduates from the academy can claim a portion of the endowment. Keep it safe, it's our only leverage."

I took the journal, feeling the weight of it, the weight of my family's future, they were being bestowed on me, in my hands.

"And remember," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, "the restricted archives in the east wing, third floor, the texts on bloodline manipulation are there so if there's any hope of permanently masking or altering your biology, that's where you'll find it."

I nodded, slipping the journal into my bag. It was a desperate plan, born of desperation. Infiltrate the academy, graduate, claim our birthright, and hopefully find a way to change what I was or at least mask it permanently. All while surrounded by alphas who would claim me in an instant if they knew the truth.

"The car's here," my mother said, glancing out the window.

I looked around my room one last time. This might be the last time I saw it, if I was to be discovered, there would be no coming back. I'd become property, just like my uncle and cousin before me.

My mother hugged me tightly, her familiar scent, it was like pine and wildflowers both enveloping me at the same time.  "Remember who you are," she whispered, “you're a Blackwood, our blood was what built that academy and you have every right to be there, don't forget that”

My father's embrace was briefer but no less fierce, “trust no one," he said, “especially not the nobility."

I gathered my bags and walked out to the waiting car, the driver— beta hired from three towns over who didn't know our family history—loaded my luggage into the trunk.

As we pulled away, I watched my parents standing in the doorway of our once-grand home, now faded and in need of repairs we couldn't afford. They'd sacrificed everything for this chance, this alone was he motivation I needed, I couldn't fail them.

The drive to Blackmoor took four hours, carrying me farther from the small herd of outcasts we'd become and closer to the heart of werewolf society, wiith each mile, my anxiety grew. By the time the academy's imposing gates came into view—leaves—my heart was pounding so hard I was sure even betas could hear it.

The campus sprawled across acres of manicured grounds, dominated by Gothic architecture that spoke of old money and older blood. Students moved between buildings each one an alphas of their own, all from families that would consider mine less than dirt now and somewhere among them were the royalty of our kind: Duke Avalon Ravencrest and Lord Kaelen Silverthorn, the heirs to the very families that had claimed my relatives.

"We're here, sir," the driver said, pulling up to the dormitory building.

I swallowed hard and straightened my shoulders, this was it, I'd need to be someone else for the next four years, someone stronger, more dominant and more alpha than I could ever be naturally, I touched the vial of formula in my pocket like a talisman.

"Thank you," I said, stepping out into the crisp autumn air.

The scent hit me immediately, dozens of alphas, their pheromones thick in the air, signaling strength and dominance. My omega instincts flared, urging me to submit but I fought them down, I had no choice, I had to. This was just the beginning, the real test would come with close contact.

As I grabbed my bags from the trunk, I felt eyes on me. Turning, I saw two figures walking across the quad, one tall and broad-shouldered with midnight-black hair while the other was leaner but no less powerful with hair the color of burnished gold, even at that distance, I knew who they were, everyone did.

Duke Avalon Ravencrest and Lord Kaelen Silverthorn, the most powerful alpha students at the academy. 

And they were looking directly at me, the newcomer who carried the scent of an alpha but whose name would be familiar to them for all the wrong reasons.

I gripped my bags tighter and headed for the dorm entrance, four years, I just needed to survive for four years.

The dormitory was a maze of wide hallways and heavy wooden doors, each bearing a brass nameplate. I followed the directions I'd been given, climbing to the third floor where I'd been assigned a single room, it was a small mercy granted by my family's founding status, despite our fall from grace. At least I wouldn't have to worry about a roommate discovering my secret.

Room 307, I inserted the key and pushed the door open to reveal a space that was larger than I expected but still modest by Blackmoor standards, a twin bed, desk, wardrobe, and private bathroom, the necessities for survival and nothing more. Through the window, I could see the sprawling grounds of the academy, dominated by the main building's imposing Gothic spires.

I set down my bags and immediately locked the door behind me, my hands trembled as I unpacked the scent-masking formula, carefully arranging the vials in the bathroom cabinet. Four years' worth, my father had made sure I had enough, all was left for me and I  just needed to be careful.

After unpacking my clothes and few personal belongings, I checked the schedule I'd been sent. A welcoming dinner for new students would begin in the Great Hall at seven, that gave me two hours to recover from the journey and prepare myself for the first real test, standing in a room full of alphas.

I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, rehearsing my persona. Jason Blackwood, transfer student, alpha from a diminished bloodline but alpha nonetheless. Quiet, reserved, someone who was not looking to dominate but not submissive either, the perfect forgettable middle-ground that wouldn't attract attention.

The campus bell tower rang six-thirty, startling me from my thoughts, I'd been so lost in my anxiety that time had slipped away. I jumped up, splashed water on my face and changed into the academy's formal uniform, charcoal gray slacks with a white button-down shirt and a blazer with the Blackmoor crest. I applied another layer of formula to my scent glands, making doubly sure the coverage was thorough.

"You can do this," I told my reflection, “you're a Blackwood."

The corridors were already filled with students heading to dinner, their alpha scents overwhelming in the enclosed space. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to lower my eyes, to make myself smaller, but I forced my shoulders back and my chin up, an alpha wouldn't shrink to anyone especially not in the face of other alpha's.