MasukRaven Academy claws three primal laws into every shifter's soul: 1. Never deceive an Alpha. 2. Never hunger for an Alpha. 3. Never let Jason Voss inhale your desperate scent. I demolished them all in a fevered rush. One forged assignment, hidden in shadows. His silver gaze pierced through, summoning me to his den. "Exile yourself," he snarled, voice like velvet-wrapped steel, his alpha presence coiling around me, thick with dominance. I collapsed to my knees, pulse thundering, body betraying me with heat. "I'll do anything," I whispered, voice raw, eyes locked on his sculpted form—the godlike alpha every wolf in the academy craved, their fantasies paling against his brutal reality. He didn't smile. He claimed. Now, nights devour me in his sealed lair. His forbidden pupil, spread open for lessons in sin. He unravels me with calloused hands mapping my skin, tongue tracing veins, cock demanding surrender. First lesson: my shattered moans as he pins me to the desk, thrusting mercilessly, his knot swelling to lock us in ecstasy's vise, flooding me until I drip with his essence. Second: the burn of his fangs sinking into my neck mid-fuck, his hips grinding deeper, growling "Mine" like a curse that brands my wolf's core. Third: orgasms ripping through me untouched, his fist twisting my hair, breath hot as he hisses, "My thieving slut, begging for every inch." He etches ownership in flesh: Purple blooms from his grip. Claiming scars pulsing with heat. His release slick between my thighs during sunlit classes, a secret torment that has me aching for more. The pack still worships untouchable Jason Voss from afar, drooling over his lethal beauty. Blind to his mate. Me. Broken. Addicted. Praying this dark bliss never ends. Salvation? I'd claw it apart for one more bite.
Lihat lebih banyakRose's POV I crossed the road toward him slowly, letting myself feel each step.The academy gates stood behind me now, old iron and older stone, still visible over my shoulder if I turned. Inside them was scrutiny, procedure, rumor, caution, all the machinery of an institution trying belatedly to define a line it should have drawn long ago. Outside them was evening air cooling against my skin, the faint scent of coffee and damp brick, and Jason waiting under the café awning like the last steady thing at the end of a difficult day.He saw the smile before I reached him.I knew because something in his face softened immediately—not dramatically, not enough that a stranger would notice, but enough that the bond answered with a low, warm pulse of relief. He pushed away from the wall just as I stepped beneath the awning, and for one suspended second we simply stood there, looking at each other in the soft gold of the hour.“There you are,” he said quietly.The words landed deeper than the
Rose’s POV By Monday morning, the rain had finally passed.The academy woke under a sky so painfully blue it felt almost mocking, sunlight spilling across the old stone buildings as if the last week had not happened inside them. Water still clung in bright beads to window ledges and ivy leaves. The courtyard smelled clean—wet grass, damp earth, the mineral chill that rose from the flagstones once the sun began warming them again.It should have felt like a fresh start.Instead, the whole campus carried that brittle, over-bright tension that always comes when people know something is about to be announced and are trying, badly, to look casual about it.I felt it before I reached the main administrative hall.In the way two betas stopped talking the moment I turned into the corridor.In the way a trio of rugby alphas near the stairs glanced toward the bulletin board and then quickly away when they noticed me noticing.In the way one of the senior omega prefects gave me a look that was
Rose’s POV The first morning after the board’s determination felt wrong before I even opened my eyes.For a few slow, half-conscious seconds, I drifted in that warm, blurred place between sleep and waking where habit still ruled the body. My face was tucked against Jason’s chest. One of his arms lay heavy across my waist. His heartbeat moved under my cheek in that steady, familiar rhythm I had learned to orient myself by. Outside, rain tapped softly at the windowpanes, softer than the storm of the day before, more like a lingering memory than weather.And then I remembered.Four weeks.No public closeness on academy grounds.No private office doors closing behind us.No hand at the small of my back while we crossed the courtyard.No visible version of us where the institution could call it complicit.The ache of it arrived all at once—clean, immediate, disproportionate in a way that embarrassed me until I remembered I had every right to be upset by something that would change the sha
Rose's POV The folded note was delivered by one of Dean Whitmore’s assistants just before the lunch bell, when the library sat in that tense, too-still hush that always seemed to settle before rain. She moved past rows of students bent over textbooks and tablets, her shoes barely making a sound on the worn runner between shelves, and stopped at my table with the polite neutrality of someone handing over something that might change a life.“Miss Hale,” she said quietly.Every head within ten feet looked up.I felt it like a shift in air pressure.I looked at the note instead of at them.Cream paper. Dean’s seal pressed into dark wax at the fold. My name written in a careful administrative hand.My fingers were steady when I took it.I have no idea how.“Thank you,” I said.She nodded once and left without another word.The silence she left behind was louder than if she’d announced me to the entire room.I broke the seal.The message inside was short.Too short.> Miss Hale, > You ar






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