Take off your jacket.

Rose's POV

“Enter.”

My breath stilled.

He’d sensed me.

Of course he had. Alphas like him could smell fear from a mile away, hear the stutter of a heartbeat through stone.

I pushed the door open.

Jason Voss stood at the center of the room, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing the start of a defined collarbone and a streak of old claw scars disappearing beneath the fabric. The scars were pale against his tanned skin, jagged lines that spoke of violence survived, power earned. He held a leather-bound book in one hand, but his attention was fully on me as I stepped inside.

The door clicked shut behind me, sealing us in.

“Seven on the dot,” he murmured, slow approval dripping from his tongue. “Good. Omegas who are late… don’t last long.”

I swallowed hard, the sound audible in the quiet room. “I didn’t want to risk it.”

His eyes—those piercing silver storms—narrowed slightly, as if dissecting my words. He set the book down on his desk with deliberate care, the thud echoing like a gavel. “Smart choice. Now, close the curtains.”

The command was simple, but it carried weight. I moved toward the tall windows, my hands unsteady as I drew the heavy velvet drapes closed. The room dimmed further, the outside world vanishing behind layers of fabric. Only the desk lamp remained, casting long shadows that danced across the walls lined with ancient tomes and artifacts— wolf pelts, silver chains, ritual daggers glinting in the low light.

I turned back to him, my pulse a frantic drum.

He hadn’t moved.

“Here,” he said, tapping the ground directly in front of him with the toe of his boot.

Not a request.

Not an instruction.

A summons.

My feet carried me forward before my mind caught up. My wolf pressed against my skin, trembling—not from fear, but from anticipation that made my stomach twist.

I stopped exactly where he wanted me.

Close enough to feel his heat radiating like a furnace.

Close enough to smell the faintest hint of pine and winter steel, mixed with something darker, more primal— the musk of an alpha in control.

Close enough that one wrong breath would brush my chest against his.

Jason’s eyes lifted, slow and assessing, raking over me from head to toe. It felt like being stripped bare without a single touch.

“Good posture,” he murmured. “You’re trying very hard not to tremble.” A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. “You’re failing.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I clenched my fingers to stop the shaking, my nails digging into my palms.

His gaze flicked to my hands. “Relax them.”

I tried, uncurling my fists slowly.

“Try harder.”

My breath hitched, and I forced my hands open, palms flat at my sides. It felt exposed, vulnerable, like offering myself up.

Jason hummed in approval—a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the air and settled low in my gut. My wolf whined softly in response, a traitorous echo.

“You’re an omega, Ms Rose. Fear is natural. Submission is instinctual. But discipline…” His eyes darkened, pupils dilating slightly in the dim light. “Discipline must be taught.”

He stepped closer.

One step.

Two.

The space between us vanished. I swallowed, my throat bobbing visibly.

He was too near. Too tall. Too everything. The heat of him seeped into my skin, into my pulse, into the frantic thud of my wolf’s heartbeat.

Jason lifted a hand.

I flinched before I could stop myself.

His fingers stopped a breath from my cheek, hovering there. The air between us crackled.

“Hmm.” He tilted his head, silver eyes glittering with something unreadable—amusement? Curiosity? “Already startled? I haven’t touched you yet.”

“I—sorry—” The word tumbled out automatically.

“Don’t apologize.” He dropped his hand, but his presence lingered. “Not for instinct.”

He circled me slowly, his boots soft on the carpet, like a predator evaluating prey. I could feel his gaze on my back, tracing the line of my spine, the tension in my shoulders.

“You plagiarized because you were desperate,” he said as he moved behind me. “Because you panicked. Because fear ruled you.”

His breath brushed the back of my neck, warm and deliberate.

My entire body stiffened, a shiver racing down my arms.

“Tonight,” he murmured, his voice a velvet blade, “we start stripping that out of you. Fear is sloppy. Fear makes you stupid. Omegas who let fear rule them get crushed.”

His words wrapped around me like invisible chains, tightening with each syllable.

Jason came back to my front, stopping an inch from me. His knuckles brushed my jaw lightly—barely a touch—and yet it felt like a spark skittered through my veins, igniting nerves I didn’t know I had.

“You told me you’d do anything,” he said softly, his thumb lingering for a fraction longer than necessary. “And I’m going to see how far that promise goes.”

My breath hitched. “Professor—”

He cut me off with a single raised brow, his expression sharpening. “No titles tonight.” He stepped even closer, his chest nearly brushing mine. “When we’re alone, you call me Jason.”

The word stuck in my throat.

Too intimate.

Too familiar.

Too dangerous.

I forced it out. “I—Jason.” It came out barely above a whisper, hoarse and uncertain.

A slow smile curved his lips—small, dark, victorious. It transformed his face, making him look less like a dean and more like the alpha legend whispered about in the halls: the one who had clawed his way to power, leaving broken rivals in his wake.

“Good,” he said, the word laced with praise that sent an unwelcome warmth through me. “Lesson one: obedience.”

He walked to his desk, his fingertips trailing along the polished wood with casual grace, then picked up a small wooden stick—thin, smooth, polished. Not a weapon. Not exactly. A tool, perhaps for pointing at texts, but in his hands, it looked ominous, like an extension of his will.

He set it down again without using it… yet. The clink against the desk was deliberate, a promise.

“Take off your jacket,” he said, his tone even, as if commenting on the weather.