Mated to the Apex Three

The copper smell of drying blood always clung to the stones long after the crowd went home.

I kept my chin tucked down, the rough wool of my servant’s tunic chafing against the angry red line where my steel collar bit into my collarbone. Swipe. Rinse. Wring. The grey water sloshed over the rim of my rusted iron bucket, splashing against the worn leather of my boots.

It was near midnight in the subterranean arena of Apex Academy, and while the high-born heirs of the Central Packs were back in their sprawling dormitories celebrating another brutal round of combat trials, I was down here on my knees, scrubbing their violence off the floor.

Swipe. Rinse. Wring.

"Faster, useless brat. If the floor isn't polished to a mirror shine before the third bell, I’ll let Lady Morrigan know you were slacking off again."

The harsh voice belonged to Master Grendel, the arena overseer, his thick wolf-tail swishing with irritation as he leaned against the heavy iron gate. A low-tier Enforcer who had long lost his edge, Grendel loved nothing more than taking out his frustration on the unbonded servants.

"Yes, Master Grendel," I murmured, keeping my tone flat, hollow, and utterly devoid of life.

It was the voice I’d spent six agonizing years perfecting. In the Vanehart household, a servant who showed a backbone was a servant who got put down. Ever since Baron Vanehart took me in after my biological parents supposedly perished in a rogue raid, my existence had been reduced to an endless cycle of servitude, public humiliation, and cruel enforcement by my adoptive sister, Morrigan.

They called me a fluke. A rankless, dirty orphan girl whose wolf hadn't even bothered to wake up during her sixteenth summer.

They didn't know about the cold, silver flame coiled deep beneath my ribs, suffocated under three heavy layers of wolf-bane salve and locked down by the heavy steel obedience collar around my neck. They didn't know that if I let even a fraction of my breath out without holding back, the silver pressure in my chest would split the stones beneath my knees.

I am the last Moon-Gazer. And if anyone in this academy found out, Baron Vanehart wouldn't just beat me, he’d harvest my blood before putting a silver bullet through my skull.

Survive until graduation, I reminded myself, dipping the frayed coarse brush back into the icy water. Two more months. Get your forged papers, clear out of the territory, and leave the Vanehart name in ashes.

A sudden, sharp drop in atmospheric pressure made the fine hairs on my arms stand up.

The air inside the vaulted stone chamber grew thick, laced with the suffocating scent of ozone, bitter dark amber, and fresh rain. My wolf, dormant and smothered deep inside my soul, gave a sudden, violent twitch.

Alpha.

Not just any Alpha. An Apex aura, raw, monstrous, and heavy enough to bend the iron bars of the arena gate.

Heavy, measured footsteps echoed down the stone corridor leading from the private combat pit. The rhythmic thud-thud-thud of heavy combat boots cut through the quiet sloshing of my bucket.

Master Grendel immediately snapped up from his lazy posture, his posture straightening so fast his joints popped. His eyes went wide with pure, instinctual fear.

"Lord Aurelius," Grendel stammered, bowing so low his nose nearly scraped his belt buckle. "I…I didn't realize you were still down here in the lower ring, My Lord. The upper baths have been prepared for you…"

"Leave," a deep, quiet voice cut through the air.

It wasn't a shout. It didn't need to be. The voice was smooth, cold as glacier ice, and carried a low, vibrating hum of absolute command that made the iron lanterns hanging from the ceiling rattle subtly in their sockets.

Aurelius Sterling-Cross. The Cold Prince of the Central Pack. The undisputed heir to the Apex throne, and the most dangerous male in this entire hemisphere.

"At once, My Lord! Immediately!" Grendel didn't hesitate. He practically scrambled up the stone stairwell, his keys jingling wildly as he bolted, slamming the heavy iron access gate behind him.

The heavy thud of the lock ringing out meant one thing: I was locked in the arena pit with a predator.

I kept my eyes pinned to the stone floor, my heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird. I squeezed the wet wooden brush until the rough splinters bit into my palms, using the small physical pain to anchor myself.

Don't look up. Don't breathe. Be invisible.

The heavy footsteps stopped precisely two inches from the edge of my soapy bucket.

The sheer physical heat radiating off his body hit me first. Aurelius had just come out of a high-intensity session; the scent of dark amber, rain, and raw adrenaline rolled off him in waves so potent it made my mouth go dry. I could see the dusty toes of his black combat boots, spattered with dark, drying blood from his opponents.

"You're in my way, servant," Aurelius said.

His tone was calm, detached, and utterly indifferent, the way a king speaks to a bug crawling across his tile.

"Forgive me, My Lord," I whispered, keeping my head bowed so low my hair fell forward, hiding my face completely. "I will move."

I reached out to pull my bucket back, intending to scramble out of his path on my hands and knees like I’d been trained to do. But as my fingers brushed the wet iron handle, a sudden, sharp tremor ran through the stone floor.

My foot slipped on the slick, bloody soapy water.

I lost my balance, my body tilting sideways. Instinctively, my hands shot out to catch myself before my face hit the stone. My right hand caught the edge of his combat boot, my fingers brushing against the bare skin of his ankle just above the leather cuff.

The moment skin touched skin, the air shattered.

SNAP.

It felt like a lightning strike delivered straight into my bloodstream.

A violent, scorching shockwave of heat tore upward through my arm, violently rattling the steel obedience collar around my throat. Deep in my chest, my suppressed Moon-Gazer wolf roared to life, unleashing a desperate, silver spark of power that slammed directly into his dark, crushing aura.

Aurelius gasped, a sharp, violent intake of air.

Before I could even process what was happening, a hand like a vice wrapped around my wrist, hauling me off the floor with terrifying speed.

I was slammed back against the damp stone pillar, my feet barely touching the floor as Aurelius pinned me. His massive frame shadowed mine completely, trapping me between the cold rock and a wall of pure, unyielding muscle.

"Look at me," he growled.

The sheer force of his Alpha command slammed into my mind, a mental battering ram ordering my muscles to comply. I fought it with everything I had, clenching my jaw so hard my teeth ached, keeping my eyes locked on his chest. He was shirtless, his broad chest covered in a light sheen of sweat and faint silver scars, his heart hammering against his ribs at an insane, feral tempo.

He felt it too. The magnetic pull. The raw, terrifying spark that had no business existing between a royal Alpha and an unbonded servant.

"I said," Aurelius lowered his head until his lips nearly brushed the shell of my ear, his breath hot and ragged against my neck, "look at me."

The dominance pouring out of him was suffocation made physical. It pressed against my chest, threatening to force my Moon-Gazer aura into the open just to survive the pressure. If I unleashed my power here, he’d know instantly what I was.

Slowly, deliberately, I let my muscles go limp. I forced my eyes to fill with fake, terror-stricken tears, letting my lip quiver as I finally raised my gaze to meet his.

Aurelius’s eyes were stunning, and terrifying. They were a vivid, iridescent gold, the irises blown out so wide with predator focus that only a thin ring of amber remained. His sharp, sculpted jawline was rigid, his chest heaving as his gaze raked over my face, taking in my bruised cheeks, my servant rags, and the heavy steel collar around my neck.

He was searching for something. Looking for the massive power spike he’d felt just a second ago.

"What are you?" he demanded, his thumb pressing hard against the pulse point on my wrist. My pulse was flying, racing at a speed that bordered on panic.

"I-I’m just a servant, My Lord," I whimpered, letting my voice shake with believable, pathetic terror. "I’m sorry! Please, don't tell Master Grendel, he’ll whip me, "

"Lie," Aurelius spat, his golden eyes narrowing into razor-sharp slits. He leaned closer, his nose tracing the line of my jawline, inhaling deeply. "You smell like wolf-bane. And beneath that foul salve..."

He paused, his body going unnaturally still as he took another deep breath right against my neck.

"...you smell like dark amber and rain."

My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. That wasn't my scent salve. That was his scent, and my suppressed aura had just mirrored it back to him through the touch contact.

His grip tightened on my wrist until the bones groaned, his eyes burning with an intense, possessive darkness that made my blood run hot.

"Who do you belong to?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave, sounding less like a prince and more like a wild beast demanding answers from its prey.

"Lady... Lady Morrigan Vanehart," I choked out, using my adoptive sister’s name as a shield. "I am her household servant."

At the mention of Morrigan's name, a flicker of cold disgust crossed Aurelius’s features, but his grip on me didn't loosen. If anything, his gaze dropped to my mouth, his breath hitching as the strange, unexplainable static between our bodies crackled harder.

"No," he muttered, almost to himself, his thumb rubbing over the soft skin of my inner wrist where my pulse hammered. "No servant has a pulse like this. What is your name?"

"S-Sera," I lied partially, dropping my full name. "Just Sera."

He stared at me for three agonizing seconds. The silence in the arena was absolute, broken only by the heavy, rhythmic thud of our hearts beating in an eerie, synchronized rhythm.

Aurelius lifted his free hand, his long, calloused fingers reaching up toward my throat. I held my breath, terrified he was going to tear the steel collar off right then and there to see what was hidden beneath it. His fingertips lightly brushed the cold metal, sending another sharp jolt of electricity straight down my spine.

Clang!

The sharp, echoing sound of a heavy iron door unlocking at the top of the stairwell broke the spell.

"Aurelius?" a voice called down from above, smooth and echoing. "The council elders are waiting in the upper hall. What’s taking you so long?"

Aurelius didn't break eye contact with me, but his pupils contracted slightly. The intense, suffocating aura around us ebbed just enough for me to catch my breath.

He leaned in, his lips hovering barely a millimeter above mine, his voice a dark, velvet promise that sent a chill through my bones.

"If I find out you are playing a game with me, Sera... I will personally tear you apart."

He released my wrist suddenly.

Without the support of his grip, my knees gave out, and I hit the cold stone floor with a sharp intake of air. Aurelius didn't offer a hand to help me up. He simply turned on his heel, his dark cloak billowing behind him as he strode toward the arena exit without a backward glance.

I lay on the cold stone, my chest heaving as I sucked in air, my wrist burning where his skin had touched mine.

I raised my shaking hand, looking at the faint red mark his fingers had left behind. The skin was hot to the touch, scorchingly hot, and deep beneath my ribs, my hidden wolf gave a long, mournful howl that echoed in the dark corners of my mind.

He knew. He didn't have the whole picture yet, but the prince of Apex Academy had felt the spark.

I looked down at the soap bucket, my reflection staring back at me from the murky, grey water. My silver eyes were flickering dangerously beneath my dark lashes, refusing to stay hidden any longer.

Two months, I thought, my fingers tightening into a fist against the bloody stone floor. I just have to survive two more months.

But deep down, as the scent of dark amber and rain lingered in my lungs, I knew the hunt had already begun.