Chapter 3

The morning bell chimed six times across the cobblestone courtyards of Apex Academy, its deep brass tone rolling over the cold mountain air.

By six-fifteen, I had already scrubbed the main foyer of the servants' quarters, fetched Lady Morrigan’s morning tea infused with rare mountain herbs, and starched three sets of her academic robes. My hands were red and raw from the harsh lye soap, and the line on my cheek where her ring had cut me yesterday throbbed with a dull, steady ache.

Keep your head down. Keep moving.

The grand central corridor connecting the student residential towers to the lecture halls was already packed with students. Young Alphas and Betas from the highest-ranking packs strutted in tight groups, their tailored black-and-gold academy uniforms pristine, their high-grade leather boots polished to a sharp sheen. They carried gilded leather satchels and spoke loudly of the upcoming Combat Trials, their laughter echoing off the high, vaulted ceilings.

I walked along the far edge of the corridor, hugging the cold stone wall, carrying a heavy brass tray laden with Morrigan’s rejected silver teacups and damp linen napkins.

My coarse grey wool tunic, the mark of an unbonded servant, chafed against my collarbones. The heavy steel obedience collar around my throat felt like a lead weight, pressing down on my esophagus every time I swallowed.

"Look at her," a sharp female voice sneered from a passing group of Betas. "Is that the Vanehart stray? I heard she can't even hold a low-grade shift."

"Surprised Baron Vanehart hasn't thrown her into the outer rogue lands yet," another girl chimed in, her laughter light and cruel. "She’s a disgrace to the Vanehart name."

I kept my eyes fixed on the flagstones ahead, letting their words slide over me like water off glass. I’d heard it all a thousand times before. Let them think I was a broken, rankless fluke. Let them think I was nothing. The less they expected from me, the easier it would be to slip away when my moment came.

I reached the northern intersection of the hall, a dark, narrow passage arched with ancient black granite pillars that separated the common student wing from the restricted Triad quarters.

To cross back to the scullery, every servant had to pass the North Guard Post, a heavy iron checkpoint where passes were verified to ensure lower-tier wolves didn't wander into the royal suites.

I paused near the base of a massive black pillar, shifting the heavy brass tray to my left hip so I could reach into my apron pocket for my silver-plated servant token.

"In a hurry, little mouse?"

The low, gravelly voice rasped directly behind my right ear.

Before I could even register the sound, a heavy, leather-clad hand slammed against the stone pillar right next to my head. The sheer physical force of the impact sent a small cloud of ancient stone dust drifting down onto my shoulder.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

The scent hit me instantly, intense, intoxicating, and violently sharp. Dark cloves, crushed black pepper, and the metallic tang of fresh blood.

Valerius.

He didn't give me room to turn around, nor did he offer the formal space a noble usually granted a servant. He leaned over my shoulder, his massive, muscular frame completely blotting out the light from the torch sconces. He was wearing his black sleeveless combat tunic, revealing broad shoulders covered in dark, tribal wolf tattoos that seemed to pulse subtly beneath his skin.

"Lord Valerius," I said quickly, forcing my voice into that dull, quivering monotone I relied on. I pressed my back tightly against the rough stone of the pillar, my eyes pinned to his boots. "I... I am just returning Lady Morrigan’s tea tray to the kitchen."

"Is that right?" Valerius purred.

He didn't pull back. Instead, he reached out with his other hand and slammed it against the pillar on my left side, trapping me entirely between his massive arms. He lowered his head until his jawline was level with mine, his hot, ragged breath brushing against the shell of my ear.

"You ran away pretty fast last night," he murmured, his voice laced with a dark, dangerous amusement. "Left me standing in the hall with my blood humming like a struck wire. I don't like it when things make my blood hum, Sera. It makes my wolf restless."

"I am sorry, My Lord," I whispered, shrinking back as far as the stone wall permitted. "I had to fulfill Lady Morrigan's orders. I meant no disrespect."

"Forget Morrigan," Valerius growled, the subtle vibration in his chest pressing directly against my shoulder. "She’s a loud, useless hound. You, on the other hand... you're a puzzle."

He shifted his weight, his knee brushing against the outer edge of my thigh through my thin wool skirt. The small point of contact sent a sharp, static jolt straight through my skin, causing my hidden Moon-Gazer wolf to give a violent, restless kick deep inside my ribs.

I clamped my jaws together, forcing the silver spark back down. No. Do not react. Do not give him anything.

"Show me your pass," Valerius commanded suddenly.

"My... my pass, My Lord?"

"The servant pass," he said, his crimson eyes narrowing as he finally leaned back just enough to look me in the face. His sharp, angular features were set in a severe, demanding line, the white scar across his eye stark against his tanned skin. "The guard post is twenty feet away. You need a signed pass from the house master to carry silver utility through the North Arch. Show it to me."

"It... it is in my apron pocket, My Lord," I stammered, keeping my chin tucked low. "If you will allow me to set the tray down…"

"No," Valerius cut in smoothly. "Hold the tray. I'll get it."

My stomach plummeted straight into my boots. "My Lord, please, servant rules prohibit…"

He didn't listen. Valerius reached out, his long, calloused fingers sliding directly into the front pocket of my linen apron to search for the metal token.

He wasn't careful. His bare knuckles slid past the thin fabric of my apron, brushing directly against the sensitive skin of my waist where my tunic had hitched up slightly from carrying the heavy brass tray.

The moment his bare skin made direct contact with mine, it happened.

BAM.

It wasn't a subtle spark. It wasn't a gentle static hum.

It was a violent, explosive surge of raw thermal heat that blasted through the contact point like liquid fire. The air between us cracked with an audible snap, like a dry branch snapping over a flame.

My eyes flew open, a sharp gasp escaping my lips as the sudden intensity burned through my veins.

The heat spread instantly. From my waist where his knuckles pressed against my skin, a bright, feverish flush flushed upward with terrifying speed. It raced up my neck, flooding across my collarbones, and painted my cheeks a deep, vivid, violent crimson.

My skin felt like it was literally on fire, radiating a staggering amount of thermal energy that melted the cold mountain chill in the corridor instantly.

Valerius gasped, a harsh, violent intake of air.

He froze, his fingers still pinned against my waist inside my apron pocket. His crimson eyes blew out wide, the dark pupils expanding until the red irises were reduced to thin, glowing rings of absolute shock.

He looked down at his hand, then looked up at my face.

My cheekbones were burning, a bright, flaming red that stood out in stark, terrifying contrast to my usually pale complexion. The heat radiating off my neck was so intense that the heavy steel obedience collar around my throat actually began to warm up, the metal absorbing the raw temperature rising from my skin.

"What..." Valerius’s voice choked out, completely stripped of its usual arrogant rasp. "What the hell is this?"

He didn't pull his hand away. If anything, his fingers twitched against my waist, pressing slightly harder into my side.

The increased pressure caused another surge of heat to blast through us. The temperature spiked even higher. My skin felt so hot it was borderline painful, a brilliant, vivid scarlet mark spreading across my throat, burning right under the edge of my steel collar.

Valerius stared at my face, utterly transfixed.

He had spent his whole life around high-born wolves, powerful Alphas, and delicate noble ladies, but he had clearly never experienced a physical reaction like this. His own chest began to heave, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as his wolf reacted to the sudden, overwhelming heat blooming between us.

"You're... you're burning," Valerius breathed, his tone laced with a wild, disbelieving awe. "Your skin... it's like iron fresh out of the forge."

"My Lord... please," I choked out, my voice genuinely raspy now. The heat wasn't just on the surface, it was unlocking the dormant magic in my blood, threatening to melt the wolf-bane salve I had applied to my pulse points that morning. If that salve melted, my true scent would burst into the hall like a wave of pure silver lightning.

"Who are you?" Valerius demanded, his voice dropping an octave into a low, terrifying rumble. He pulled his hand out of my apron pocket, empty, and slammed his bare palm flat against the side of my neck, right over my burning, scarlet skin.

The direct contact against my pulse point was explosive.

GASP.

A visible ripple of heat distortion seemed to warp the air between our faces. My neck burned a violent, deep red beneath his fingers, the feverish color spreading up to the tips of my ears.

Valerius leaned in, his face mere inches from mine, his nose brushing against my flushed cheek. He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding to its absolute limit as he tried to drink in the sudden, scorching warmth radiating from my body.

"It's not a fever," he whispered, his eyes wide, wild, and utterly consumed by predator focus. "This is... this is an aura pulse. You're reacting to me."

"No," I pleaded, tears of pure terror stinging the corners of my eyes. Not terror of him, terror of exposure. "No, My Lord, I am sick! I have the marsh-fever, I swear it…"

"Liar," Valerius growled softly, his thumb tracing the burning, scarlet curve of my jawline. His touch was firm, possessive, and so intensely hot it felt like he was branding his mark directly into my flesh. "Marsh-fever doesn't make my own wolf want to tear through my skin just to get closer to you. Marsh-fever doesn't make my blood feel like boiling lead."

He pressed his body closer, his broad chest trapping me so firmly against the black granite pillar that I couldn't move an inch. The physical proximity only fed the fire, my skin glowing a bright, feverish red under the dim torchlight.

"Valerius."

The single word cut through the suffocating heat like a polished silver blade.

Standing at the entrance of the archway, barely ten feet away, was Aurelius Sterling-Cross.

The Cold Prince was fully clad in his gold-trimmed academic tunic, his tall, imposing figure radiating a cool, terrifying stillness. But his eyes, those striking, luminous golden eyes, were fixed directly on Valerius’s hand, which was still clamped firmly against my bright red, burning neck.

Aurelius took a single, slow step forward.

The atmospheric pressure in the corridor plummeted instantly. The temperature dropped so fast that the hot air Valerius and I had generated was instantly snuffed out, replaced by a biting, arctic chill that made the torches flicker violently.

"What are you doing?" Aurelius asked. His voice was completely smooth, completely calm, yet it carried an underlying thread of lethal menace that made the guard twenty feet away drop his head in fear.

Valerius didn't pull his hand away immediately. He kept his palm resting on my burning skin, his crimson eyes shifting sideways to meet Aurelius’s golden glare.

"I’m inspecting a pass, Aurelius," Valerius replied, his voice rough and defiant, though his breath was still ragged. "Or trying to. But our little house servant here seems to have a very strange medical condition."

Aurelius’s golden eyes flicked from Valerius’s face down to my neck.

He stared at the bright, inflamed red mark spreading across my collarbones, at the vivid flush coating my cheeks, and at the way my chest was heaving as I fought to keep my wolf suppressed.

For a fraction of a second, something dark and dangerously possessive flashed across Aurelius’s features. His jaw tightened so hard a muscle twitched near his ear.

"Release her," Aurelius commanded softly.

Valerius smirked, a sharp, challenging flash of white teeth, but he slowly slid his hand off my neck.

The moment his skin left mine, the oppressive, burning heat began to slowly recede, leaving my skin feeling strangely cold and hypersensitive in the chilly mountain air. The bright red flush remained, painted across my neck and face like a scarlet mark of shame.

"She’s carrying silver for Lady Morrigan," Aurelius said coldly, stepping past Valerius as if the Enforcer weren't even there. Aurelius didn't touch me, but he stopped two feet away, towering over me as he looked down at my flushed face. "Go, servant. The kitchen is waiting."

"Y-Yes, My Lord," I squeaked out, not daring to look either of them in the eye.

I clutched the brass tray to my chest like a shield, scrambled out from between the black pillar and Valerius's massive frame, and practically sprinted down the narrow corridor toward the service doors.

"She's hiding something, Aurelius," I heard Valerius whisper behind me, his voice carrying clearly despite the distance. "You felt it in the arena. I felt it just now. Her skin burned like an Alpha's in rut."

"I know what she is hiding," Aurelius’s cold voice replied, fading as I turned the corner. "And we will address it tonight."

I slammed through the double doors of the scullery, practically throwing the brass tray onto the wooden prep table before collapsing against the sink.

I reached up with trembling hands, pressing my icy palms against my burning, scarlet cheeks. My neck was still hot to the touch, the skin flushed a deep, undeniable red where Valerius’s fingers had branded me.

They know.

They didn't have the name 'Moon-Gazer' yet, but the Triad Alphas were closing in. First Aurelius in the dark arena, and now Valerius in the open hall. My body was reacting to them, to their blood, to their power, and no amount of wolf-bane salve or steel collars could stop the physical bond from pulling us together.

I looked down at my reflection in the deep copper sink basin, watching the feverish red slowly fade from my skin.

I can't stay in the shadows much longer, I thought, my heart hammering against my ribs like a war drum. They are going to force my wolf into the light.