ON YOUR KNEES

MARLOWE

The pounding behind my eyelids was brutal. I sat on the edge of the twin bed in the academy cabin, pressing the heels of my palms into my temples as my head was spinning—a pathetic reminder that rogue-born wolves with weak, dormant genes couldn't process cheap alcohol the way high-ranking packs did.

But it wasn’t just the hangover making me sick. It was the memory of last night.

The image of Asher was practically burned into my eyes. He had looked completely unhinged, like a predator that had finally snapped his leash. When he threw Zane through that table, staring at me like he wanted to swallow me whole. The raw, suffocating possessiveness radiating off him had made my skin prickle with an unwanted, terrifying heat. It scared the absolute shit out of me. I was a packless nobody, a scholarship case who survived by staying invisible. Being the hyper-fixation of a psychotic, delusional Alpha heir was a death sentence.

A sharp, violent knock rattled the door of my cabin room, shattering the silence.

I winced, pulling a baggy, oversized grey hoodie over my head to hide the dark orange dress I was still wearing from the night before. I slid my glasses onto the bridge of my nose, tying my wavy brown hair into a messy knot as I pulled the door open.

It wasn't Asher. It was the tournament coordinator, a grim-faced Beta wearing an official regional blazer. He didn't even look me in the eye. He just held out a clipboard.

“Marlowe Mercer?” he asked, his voice flat and monotonous.

“Yes,” I said, my voice raspy. I cleared my throat, a sudden knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. “Is the transport ready for the arena? The qualifiers start in an hour.”

“There’s been a change in schedule,” he stated coldly, crossing a line through my name on his roster. “Havenmoon Academy has been disqualified from the regional championships. Effective immediately.”

The ground beneath my boots felt like it violently gave way. My chest tightened so hard I couldn’t draw breath.

“What? What the fuck do you mean disqualified? I won the Academic and Athletic Assessment. I took first place fair and square. You can’t just—”

“Your co-captain, Asher Varun, instigated a high-level Alpha assault on the Beta heir of Fierce Claw Academy last night,” the coordinator interrupted, his tone dripping with professional disdain. “Property damage, severe physical trauma to a student, and an unsanctioned display of dominant pheromones in a public sector. The High Council doesn't tolerate street brawls. Havenmoon is out. Pack up your belongings. The transit shuttles are leaving in thirty minutes.”

He turned on his heel and walked down the corridor before I could even process the words.

Disqualified.

No. No, no, no.

My hands began to violently tremble as I slammed the door shut. This tournament wasn't just a shiny trophy for my shelf—it was my entire fucking life. My scholarship, my pack-tax exemption, and my protection within this quadrant were all contingent on me stepping onto that ice today. Without the tournament, my rogue status would be fully exposed. I’d be thrown out of Havenmoon by the end of the week, cast back into the fringes as a packless, broke rogue with absolutely no protection from the apex predators of the territory. It was the one chance I had to save myself from the gutter.

And Asher had fucking ruined it because of his fucking, fragile Alpha ego.

I didn't even wait for the official transit. I packed my shit, threw my laptop into my bag, and took the first rogue-charter shuttle back to the main academy grounds. I was completely furious, my blood boiling with every kilometer that passed. I needed answers, and I needed them now.

I stormed into the grand administrative wing of Havenmoon Academy. I didn't care about staying hidden anymore. I was going to find that privileged piece of shit and rip his throat out myself.

I ducked into the secluded corridor just outside the dean's office—the exact same shadow-drenched hallway where his Luna mother had slapped the absolute shit out of him yesterday.

The heavy, intoxicating scent and raw, oppressive Alpha energy suddenly flooded my senses, cutting through the sterile school air.

Asher was leaning against the brick wall. He looked immaculate, yet completely chaotic. His dark hair was uncombed, his jaw was shadowed with stubble, and his tongue rolled slowly over his pierced lower lip as his piercing amber eyes locked dead onto me the second I turned the corner. The sheer intensity in his gaze gave a pathetic flutter deep in my chest, but I suppressed it, my face hardening into pure, freezing ice.

“Look what the cat fucking dragged in,” I sneered, throwing my heavy backpack onto the floor between us.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? You had to play the big, bad apex predator and throw a temper tantrum last night. We are disqualified, Asher. My protection, my tournament spot—everything is gone because you couldn’t keep your fucking claws to yourself.”

Asher’s jaw ticked violently, a dangerous, golden spark swirling in his eyes. But instead of roaring back, instead of throwing his weight around, he took a slow, deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he caught my scent.

“The High Council hasn't finalized the paperwork yet,” he muttered, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper. “I stopped the filing. Havenmoon isn't out. Your tournament spot isn't gone. Not yet.”

I paused, my heart skipping a violent beat.

“What?”

“I need a deal, Marlowe,be my boyfriend it doesn't have to be real,” he blurted out, the words sounding like they were tearing his throat apart on the way out. He looked down the empty corridor, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

I stared at him like he had entirely lost his mind.

“You want me to fake date you? I'm not gay, Asher. And you're the fucking Alpha heir. You're not gay either.”

His expression remained completely deadpan.

“Neither of us is gay. I fucking loathe your guts. But I need someone strong enough to make this believable, and you’re the only person stubborn enough to pull it off.”

I blinked at him.

“And if it pisses my mother off along the way,” he added flatly, “even better.”

“You're insane.”

“My mother is moving the Pack Council to audit our territory. After last night, after the stunt with Zane, she’s ready to strip me of the captaincy and declare me unfit for the alpha king succession. She thinks I’m an unhinged liability. She wants to bring in a northern Alpha to replace me.”

I let out a cold, mocking laugh.

“So your mommy is finally realizing you’re a monster? Color me shocked. What does your pathetic inheritance drama have to do with me?”

“I need a fake relationship, Marlowe,” he snapped, his head whipping toward me, his amber eyes wide and completely wild.

“The High Council requires the Alpha heir to have a stabilized aura or a chosen partner before they take the throne. But you… you’re the rogue-born prodigy who just completely crushed the academy leaderboard. You out-studied and out-played every high-ranking wolf in the quadrant. If I claim you as mine—if the smartest, most disciplined asset in the school vouches for my stability—the Council can't touch my succession. It proves I can dominate and integrate the best talent in the territory.”

I stared at him like he had entirely lost his mind.

“You want me… to fake date you? The guy who treats me like a bottom-feeder? Are you fucking delusional? Why the hell would I ever agree to that?”

“Because I can give you exactly what you need to survive,” he rushed out, his voice turning frantic, completely uncharacteristic of his usual arrogant swagger.

“You want protection? You want status? If you play your part, I will personally grant you full pack immunity. No one in this quadrant will ever dare to look at you sideways. You’ll have the power and backing of the future Lycan King. You won’t just be a charity case anymore; you’ll be completely untouchable.”

“No,” I said instantly, a venomous smile spreading across my lips as I stepped back. “I’d rather take my chances as a rogue than spend a single second pretending to like a piece of shit like you. Find some other puck-bunny to stroke your massive ego, Asher.”

“Mine, wait—fucking stop!”

Before I could turn on my heel, Asher moved. He didn't grab me. He didn't use his Alpha command. Instead, his massive, war-god frame completely collapsed outward, his knees slamming hard against the polished floor right in front of my feet.

My breath completely hitched in my chest.

The future alpha King, the undisputed heir to the throne, the lethal varsity hockey captain… was on his knees in front of me. His massive hands anchored against his thighs, his head tilted upward, looking up at me through thick, dark eyelashes. The sheer yearning radiating off him was thick, suffocating, and heavy, filling the narrow hallway with an intense, intoxicating heat that made my heart hammer against my ribs.

“Please,” he breathed, his voice raw, raspy, and broken. He was looking at my lips like a dying man looking at water, his fingers trembling against his knees. “I am begging you, Marlowe. If I lose the succession, I have nothing. My mother will destroy me. My father does everything she asks. I need you. I fucking need you. Just play the part for the Council, and I will give you all the power and protection you want.”

I stared down at him, my mind spinning in absolute shock. The power dynamic had completely flipped, and the sight of this arrogant predator broken down at my feet sent a dangerous thrill straight down my spine. I leaned forward, my face inches from his, keeping my voice cold, sharp, and dripping with venom.

“You look pathetic down there, Asher,” I whispered, aiming directly for his bruised pride. “You want my help? Fine. But let’s get one thing straight. You don't own me. Get off the floor, psycho.”

Asher’s eyes darkened, a dangerous, possessive glint returning to the amber depths as he stood up, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“Deal,” he growled softly, a low, animalistic vibration rattling his chest as he stepped into my personal space, caging me against the brick wall.

“But know this, little rogue… if you fuck this up, if you let another male or female touch you while your name is tied to mine, I will forget this little arrangement. I will sink my fangs so deep into your skin I’ll rip you into pieces. You play your part perfectly, or I’ll destroy us both.”

Right on cue, the doors  at the end of the corridor swung open with a resounding bang.

A crowd of students, scouts, and reporters flooded into the administrative wing, their voices echoing off the walls. Necks whipped in our direction instantly, cameras flashing as the whispers spread like wildfire through the hallway.

Before I could even blink, Asher’s hand clamped around my waist, pulling my body flush against his hard, solid chest. I gasped, my chest hitting his as his mint-and-cedar scent completely overwhelmed my senses.

In front of everyone—in front of the flashing cameras, the whispering pack elders, and the stunned students—Asher dipped his head.

His large hand slid up to cup the back of my neck, his fingers tangling into my wavy brown hair with a fierce, unhinged possessiveness that left no room for retreat.

He pressed his lips firmly, violently onto mine.

I froze, my eyes widening behind my glasses as the entire hallway fell into a dead, suffocating silence.

The kiss was a dominant, public claim, his mouth moving against mine with a dark, terrifying promise that sent a massive wave of unwanted electricity straight down my spine.

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst.