CHAPTER 4 - Emery

I followed him.

I didn't know why. My instincts screamed at me to run, to find a dark corner to hide in, to disappear until the humiliation faded. But my feet carried me forward, trailing behind Professor Felix like I had no choice in the matter.

Maybe I didn't.

He led me through winding corridors, past portraits of ancient werewolves, up a narrow staircase I hadn't noticed before. The academy was a labyrinth, and I was following a stranger into its depths.

Stupid. This is so stupid.

But I kept walking anyway.

He stopped in front of a heavy oak door and pushed it open. Inside was a study—warm and inviting, nothing like the cold stone corridors we'd just walked through. Bookshelves lined every wall, filled with leather-bound volumes that smelled of age and knowledge. 

A fire crackled in the hearth, casting golden light across a large mahogany desk and two leather armchairs. The room felt safe. Comfortable.

I didn't trust it.

"Why did you bring me here?" The words came out sharper than I intended. I guess I was tired of being led around, tired of not knowing what was happening to me.

Felix turned to face me, his silver eyes unreadable. "Because I need you to see yourself."

I blinked. "What?"

He gestured to the corner of the room. I followed his gaze and saw it. There was a large mirror in an ornate dark wood frame. It gleamed in the firelight, waiting.

“I don’t understand.” I understood perfectly. But I needed to confirm it.

“Go to the mirror. Look at yourself.”

I shook my head immediately. "No."

"No?" One dark eyebrow arched.

"I don't want to." My voice came out smaller than I intended. "I don't- I can't-"

"Why?"

The question was simple, his voice gentle. And somehow that made it worse.

I opened my mouth to lie. To deflect. To say something that would make him stop looking at me like he could see my insides.

But the words that came out of my mouth were the truth.

"I don't like looking at myself."

I paused, shocked by my own honesty. Something about this man made me want to pour out my whole soul and give it to him on a platter. My wolf stirred, distrustful but calm. He posed no obvious threat. I could feel that much.

Felix studied me for a long moment, his silver eyes searching my face.

"Come here," he said softly.

He didn't wait for me to obey. He walked toward me, slowly, deliberately, and took my hand in his. His grip was warm. Steady. He led me toward the mirror, and I felt my feet moving against my will.

I shut my eyes immediately. I couldn't. I wouldn't.

"Open your eyes, Emery."

My eyes flew open. He knew my name. How did he know my name?

But then I remembered. Everyone knew my name. I was the pathetic reject. The girl whose mate had thrown her away like garbage. Fuck school gossip.

"Look at the mirror," he said softly.

I hesitated. My heart pounded so hard I could barely breathe. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to look away, to protect myself from what I knew I'd see.

But Felix's hand was warm on mine, grounding me.

Then he went behind me. His hands found my shoulders, gentle but firm, and he turned me to face the glass.

My reflection stared back at me.

Oh damn, I hated it.

I hated it so fucking much.

I hated how my stomach curved, soft and round in a way that never seemed to go away no matter how many meals I skipped. I hated how my thighs touched, how they seemed too big, too thick, too much. 

I hated my face. It was too soft, too round, too full. My cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, making me look even worse. 

I hated the dark circles under my eyes from years of sleepless nights, years of crying into my pillow so no one would hear. 

I hated the way my dress pulled across my hips, the fabric straining in a way that made me want to tear it off and hide forever. 

I hated myself.

Every flaw. Every imperfection. Every inch of me that had been mocked and ridiculed and rejected.

"How does this help me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you bring me here to torture me?"

"What do you see?" Felix asked, ignoring my question.

"You already know what I see." My voice cracked. "My disgusting self. Why are you making me do this?"

He stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the mirror. His silver eyes were cold… and somehow… angry? It unsettled me.

"What did you say?" His voice was chilling. "What did you call yourself?"

"Disgusting." The word tasted bitter on my tongue. But it was true, even I couldn’t deceive myself into thinking it wasn’t.

"Is that what you think of yourself?"

"That's what I am." I met his eyes, defiance flickering in my chest. 

"Says who?" His voice was quiet. Dangerous.

"Says me." I lifted my chin. "That's what everyone sees. That's what I see. Why are you pretending it's not true?"

"You are not disgusting."

"Says who?" I bit back, repeating his words from earlier.

"Me," he replied.

I let out a bitter laugh. "And who are you?”

He stepped closer. So close I could feel the heat radiating off his body. His silver eyes burned into mine.

"I am the person who'll bend you over my table and fuck you now if you talk back at me one more time."

I swallowed hard.

Fear coiled in my stomach, hot and sharp. He was taller than me, broader than me, and dangerous in a way that made my wolf go still and watchful. I had no doubt he could make good on his words.

But another part of me, the part that had never been desired, wanted to test him. I wanted to see if he'd actually do it, to see if anyone could actually want me that way.

Against better reason, I decided to reply.

"All words." I huffed, crossing my arms. "You're just trying to scare me."

I genuinely believed it. The thought that this gorgeous, commanding man might actually fuck me was laughable.

Men like him didn't fuck women like me. They never did.

Felix's lips curved into a slow smirk.

"Oh, hun," he said, his voice dropping to something lower than a whisper. "You've made a mistake."

I swallowed as he circled me, the hairs on my lags and arm standing at attention. His footsteps were silent on the thick rug. He moved around me like a predator closing in on prey, and I felt my heart hammer against my ribs.

He stopped behind me, less than an inch separating us. I could smell him, his scent was something clean and woodsy and utterly masculine.

Then he closed the distance.

His chest pressed against my back. His breath was hot against my ear. And I became suddenly, overwhelmingly aware of how hard he was.

My breath caught. 

Fuck. He wants me.

The thought was dizzying. But the evidence of his arousal, his thick shaft pressed against my lower back, undeniable and unmistakable.

"Strip," he said.