“Do you have a death wish?”The words were small in the room and enormous in my skull. He said them like a fact you could trip over something both courtly and deadly.My body moved before I decided it should. I stepped back and my shoulder slammed into the cold metal partition. The hook bit into the soft place beneath my scapula. I wanted to laugh because it hurt and because the world had become a bad joke I hadn’t auditioned for. Instead my hands went up, useless.He kept coming.It wasn’t a run or a lunge; it was a steady taking of space, a deliberate swallowing of inches until his shadow filled the stall and my chest felt too small. His scent was like rain on pavement, cedar wood, something like iron rolled over me and made my wolf pop to attention. She whimpered, quiet and animal, and I wanted to sink through the tile at how exposed that sound made me feel.His fingers landed at my throat. Not violent enough to stop me breathing. Not soft enough to be anything but a warning. The g
Instinct took me by the throat. I slapped my palm over his mouth, my other hand flying up with a finger to my lips. “Shhh,” I breathed, not even daring to look straight at him. My eyes were fixed on the gap under the door, to the thin line of light where footsteps were passing.The air tasted like disinfectant and damp cotton. I could hear the boys’ voices getting closer. Laughter, the thud of a gym bag against a bench, the squeak of rubber soles on tile.A heartbeat of stunned quiet was all I needed to notice his breath warmed my skin, his lashes lowered. I felt, more than saw, the way his gaze traveled. First to my hand on his mouth, then to my face, then to the pathetic T‑shirt I’d twisted backward to hide the hole.Outside, a voice rang out. “Yo, Cap? You in here?”Another laugh, closer to the row of sinks. “You better be. Coach’ll murder you if you skip the media meet again.”Xavian’s fingers wrapped my wrist cool, in an unhurried manner. He peeled my hand from his mouth like I
If the first week of school was meant to be a “fresh start,” then the Moon clearly forgot to CC me on the memo.I finally found my amphitheater hall after walking in circles so many times I could’ve been mistaken for a lost freshman. I’d just slipped into a seat when the room suddenly shifted into chaos, chairs screeched, sneakers squeaked, and half the class bolted toward the wide glass windows like moths to a flame.“He’s here!” someone squealed.“He looks even better in person,” another gushed.Curiosity won. I should’ve known better but I found my legs leading me to the window and I even dared crane my neck to look.Outside, the campus courtyard was a war zone of flashing cameras and screaming girls. Journalists jogged to keep up with the tall, broad-shouldered figure stepping out of a sleek black car. His blonde hair caught the sunlight, his movements so sure and commanding it made sense why half the world apparently adored him.Xavian Blackridge.I gripped the edge of the desk.
It had been five days since the Blood Moon.Five days of lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and trying to decide whether the ache in my chest was from heartbreak, soul-deep rejection, or the fact that my father’s cooking was slowly poisoning me.Not that I’d been eating much.I was half-dozing when my phone started buzzing violently on the nightstand. I groaned, dragged myself up, and squinted at the screen.Darcy: I’m outside. If you’re not out in ten minutes, I’m dragging you out in your pajamas.Right. First day of sophomore year. The one day of the year you’re supposed to look alive, not like you’ve been auditioning for a zombie film.I looked down at my ratty sweatpants and decided I had, in fact, nailed the zombie look. All that’s missing is death but maybe that already happened under the blood moon.~oo~Darcy’s voice hit me the moment I stepped out. “Aves, you look—” She paused, eyes narrowing. “Pale. You’ve lost weight. And not in the cute summer-girl way.”I gave her my m
The first thing I heard was the low purr of engines. Not just any cars, expensive ones, the kind that glide rather than rumble, carrying the smell of polished leather and wealth in their wake.My eyes snapped open.For a second, I thought it was another dream. Omegas like me didn’t wake up to the scent of luxury. We woke up to stale bread, cold rooms, and the knowledge that we’d spend the day serving someone else’s comfort. But… the sound was real. Growing closer.Hope flickered in my chest. I knew it was stupid because hope was fragile.But maybe…Maybe the Moon was done playing games with me. Maybe this time, the mate the Goddess chose would actually keep me.But doubt settled just as quickly. Three times I’d been rejected. Once in front of an entire pack. Each rejection was its own brand of humiliation, and the scars weren’t just emotional. The mate bond didn’t heal easily.I threw on the first dress I could find, almost calling for a maid before the memory cut sharp. The house was