A Wolf Among Wolves

The towers of the Alpha Dominion Academy jutted from the land like fangs in a wild beast’s mouth. Stone walls, scorched by countless storms, rose over the valley, and the flags of the packs of every law-track blew in the wounded wind. The very air buzzed with domination; even before stepping beyond the gates, Serena could feel the air pulsing against her shoulders like something heavy and unsteady.

She had ridden with speed in the dark of night, the witch’s smoke still lingering on her skin, her spirit snapped between who she was and who she had to be.

The magic spell lingered, each step of her horse tormented her chest in possibility and agitaged her throat. It was as if her body was revolting at the predicisession moment. She kept the cloak clutched tight around her shoulders. She didn’t want the guards to detect even the softest hint of change in her scent warming with the pump of her breath.

“Name,” the gate attendant barked. An older, ashy Beta with calloused hands placed upon his knees, his greyed eyes looked hers over with cosmological questioning.

Serena huffed under her cloaks before projecting with her voice lowered to deepen. “Soren Vale. Of Mooncrest.”

The Beta looked around as his squint grew stronger; drawing a ragged breath to scan the parchment back at her.He dipped a claw in a vial of silver ink, touching the crest of the red of white of his bloodline. It flared momentarily, sealing the identity. "Blood check."

Serena swallowed hard, extending her hand. A razor thin edge nicked her thumb, her blood dropping into a shallow silver dish. The Beta studied the ripples, nostrils flaring once. For a moment, Serena's heart hammered so hard, she imagined the spell cracking under it.

Then the Beta grunted. "Moon crest bloodline confirmed. Dormitory 308. Orientation first bell. Don't be late."

The relief came so fast that she felt like she would fall to her knees. She offered a quick thank you and moved on into the courtyard where the next step in her act of deception would take place.

The courtyard was filled with noise, the boys, some no older than fifteen, others gigantic and thick, vocalized in excitement or arrogance. Serena maneuvered her way through them, feigning cockiness, lifting her chin in the same way that she'd seen her cousin do nearly one thousand times. But her stomach flipped as she took in the scents, primal, aggressive, and unbridled.

These boys weren't sparring partners from her father's pack. These boys were heirs honed like blades, each thinking himself Alpha.

A commanding voice pierced through the noise. "Recruits! Line up!"

Without hesitation, the recruits fell into the line instinctively. Serena stepped into line, her hands clammy against her trousers.

The headmaster stepped forward, a tall, scarred wolf whose presence alone silenced the courtyard. His gray eyes scanned the recruits with disdain. "This Academy does not make boys. It makes Alphas.

You will be pushed. You will be broken. If you survive, maybe you will deserve the bloodlines you proclaim. If you fail..." He smiled, coldly, devoid of humor. "The wolves beyond these walls will be pleased with the scraps."

A tension rippled through the recruits.

"Now," the headmaster went on, "welcome our four-stripe wonder. He will speak to you of what it means to survive on this mount."

Serena's breath caught. She had heard the name, murmured in her father's hall, on the lips of elders who dared dream he might take his place on Mooncrest's throne.

And now, as he stepped forward, she was looking at him herself

Damien Blackthorn.

Damien Blackthorn moved through the crowd like he was a knife slicing into butter.

He was taller than most, his physique broad but not fat, trained like a tool that has been sharpened for use. His dark hair curled in disarray about his jaw, although nothing about him suggested disarray because he moved with purpose. Every step was subdued, his shoulders square to match the storm in his blue eyes, which washed over the line of recruits like a tsunami bringing the weight of each syllable in the headmaster's voice to bare, power, command, and the silent threat of a wolf with nothing that ever lost.

Serena forced her eyes forward, world falling in around her, but she felt him like a storm building above her. The whispers of the recruits confirmed her suspicions.

"That's him."

"The heir to Nightfang."

"He broke three seniors in Sparring last year."

But when he stood at the front there was note the typical posturing or flexing, he simply stared back calmly into their eyes, his absence of body language was enough, and the silence weighted further as though the reader itself began to acquiesce.

"Being here," Damien said evenly, though he was low, "doesn't make you Alpha."

He paused. His eyes repassion and roamed over the recruit's face again the cold steel of a sword as they scanned each of the faces.

What you will be doing here really does. You will be taken to task every day, by your peers, by your instructors, and by yourself. Fail once, and you will never get back up. The only thing that matters is strength. Keep that in mind. Strength or nothing.”

He stepped back, crossing his arms, as if he had already written them off.

The Headmaster nodded. “Each recruit will receive their first stripe now.”

One by one, the boys stepped up to the platform, their names called out loud, the mark sewn onto their uniforms in gold thread, and Serena could hear her pulse get louder with each name. She almost forgot to breathe when her name was called, her pulse pounding in her throat.

“Soren Vale of Mooncrest.”

She walked to the platform, her boots feeling like stones at her feet. Damien was standing there, a blank expression written on his face, holding the ceremonial needle in his hand. Up close, he was worse - dangerously magnetic. His scent twisted and penetrated her skin like smoke, sharp iron and it dug into her chest somehow more so than the roaring laughter from the elders.

They caught each other's gaze and for a second, she felt stripped. Could he see through the disguise? Did he already know?

Damien's hand was in motion not to her arm, but to her chest, his palm brushing where her disguise pressed hardest.

Instinct screamed like a siren. Serena's body acted before her mind processed the situation.

SLAP!

The sound reverberated throughout the quad. Gasps rippled through the recruits. Damien's head snapped to the side, a red mark blooming across his jaw.

Serena's hand hung in the air, trembling. Panic gripped her throat. Idiot, idiot, idiot!

"I...," she stammered. "There was a bug. I thought..."

For one breathless second, the silence felt so thick that she thought she would choke.

Then Damien laughed.

Low, amused, dangerous. He rubbed his jaw, his lips curving in a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Bug slayer, huh?"

He leaned in close enough for only her to hear. "Careful, Vale. First day, and you already bite."

Her knees nearly buckled. He stitched the stripe onto her sleeve, then waved her away as if she were nothing more than a curiosity. But Serena felt the weight of his gaze burning into her back long after she returned to the line.

The ceremony was over, but the recruits whispered as they dispersed.

"You see that?"

"He slapped Blackthorn!"

“He'll be dead by morning.”

Serena tightened her hands into fists. With every set of eyes on her, she felt as if she had been stabbed.

When she reached the dorm that had been assigned to her, she pushed the door open with shaky hands. The room was tidy, and it smelled softly of cedar and steel. One of the beds was already occupied, the sheets covered by a large duffle bag.

She stilled.

By the window, a figure with broad shoulders was highlighted by the sunlight. He glanced back towards her at her entrance, gray eyes dancing with mirth.

"Well," Damien drawled slowly, evil grin stretching, "if it isn't my new roommate. The bug slayer."

Serena's gut dropped.

May the moon save me.

Serena is trapped. Her disguise barely survived the first day, she has made a public enemy of Damien, and now she is stuck sharing a room with him.

Serena tightened her grip on the doorframe. For the briefest moment, she considered evading the matter before her, pretending she made a mistake and this was not the room assigned to her. But Damien's smirk told her he knew there would be no escaping this time.

He leaned back in his chair like the king of his castle, his boots crossed at the ankles, as if this room was his, and she was invading it. "You just going to stand there all day, Vale, or did you just decide to move in?"

Serena finally got her feet to move and stepped into the room. There was a palpable tenseness in the air around them, every intake of breath felt like a blade scrapping her lungs. She dropped her bag onto the empty bed, and faced away from him for as long as possible.

"You're awfully quiet now," Damien drawled. "Not the same wolf who slapped me in front of half the Academy."

A flush crept up her neck. She fought to keep her voice steady and even lower and masculine than normal. "I told you it was a bug."

"Mm." His chuckle turned low and dangerous. "If that's your excuse, you should keep practicing better lies. Alphas can count deception on their breath."

Serena froze. Careful. "Then maybe you're not much of an Alpha, since you believed me."

Silence.

She risked a quick glance, using the Art of Distraction. Damien was looking at her, his eyes narrowed, his mouth twisted somewhere between annoyance and amusement. "I'll give you that, Vale. You've got teeth. Most pups keep their heads down on day one. But not you."

It took all her effort to manage a shrug, while her heart was pounding against her chest. "I guess I'm not most pups."

"Maybe not.” He tilted his head, examining her with unnerving intensity. "Regardless. Wolves who display teeth too early don't last here."

The comment was casual, but there was a warning contained within that cut deep.

Serena turned back to her bag, fiddling with the straps to keep her hands busy. She needed to get some air and try to regulate her pulse, or he would pick up on the nerves radiating off her body.

The silence dragged on, and she could feel his eyes still honing in on her taking inventory of her confidence possibly peeling off layers she wasn't ready to reveal just yet. Only when the Academy bell tolled in the distance, did he finally stand.

“Orientation’s over," Damien declared. "Next is the first test. "I’d hate to lose my roommate before I've had a proper chance to see how much trouble he’s going to be. Don’t be late."

He brushed her shoulder as he sidestepped her view. The faintest touch of his shoulder to hers leaped to a heat rush in her stride. And just like that, as he disappeared, now it was Serena standing breathlessly planted, feeling more naked in her digs than even.

The training fields smelled of wet dirt and sweat, with an energy in the air. Recruits stood shoulder to shoulder, jackets stark against the sheen of mist clinging to the grass. Off the edge of the field, the river ran long and furious, white caps smashing over the rocks below.

An instructor stepped forward, a angry looking scar running from the ridges of his brow down to his jaw. “First test,” he rasped, “cross the river with the weight.”

He kicked a bag onto the ground that landed with a thump that echoed in Serena’s bones. When it open, she could see that it had rocks that looked as heavy as sin.

“You will tie a bag around you, and you will swim to the other side.” He said, “If you untie the bag, you fail. If you drown, you fail harder. Welcome to the Dominion."

There was a flutter of nervous laughter that swept through the recruits, but it was crushed out quickly by the weight of his glaring look.

Serena's stomach tightened. While she had practiced in rivers, this was unlike anything she had ever encountered. The current was voracious, predatory. She could feel the weight at her waist—there was no way she would float; she would plummet like a rock.

Names were read out loud. One by one, the boys hit the water. A couple of them swam across the river, splashing and clawing their way to safety, bleeding but alive. A few of them cut the rope halfway in, panting as they clambered onto the rocks. And then two unconscious boys were rescued by upperclassmen.

When they called out her name—"Soren Vale!"—her legs were almost paralyzed. But she stepped out anyway, without hesitation, feeling sick to her stomach and her heart pounding in her chest.

The sack felt uncomfortably heavy as it was tied around her waist, already dragging at her as she approached the bank. She swallowed hard and stared down at the water twirling and pummeling below her.

You cannot fail, there's too much at stake. Not now. Not on the first day.

She jumped.

The river swallowed her whole.

Cold slammed against her chest and took her breath away. The sack pulled her down and sent her tumbling into darkness. Her arms beat the water, legs desperately kicking against the weight of the current. Foam burned her eyes and filled her mouth.

She fought against the current, hardly able to push through a small space of air to take a ragged breath before she was dragged down again.

Cut the rope, the voice in her head screamed. Save yourself.

But if she did it would be over for her. She would be exposed and worthless.

She felt her hand fumbling for the knife strapped to her thigh, but her fingers were numb. Her ankle smashed against a rock and pain flashed white-hot through her. Panic began to claw at her ribs.

Then hands.

Strong hands, hands that weren’t going to let go, snaked around her waist. Hans that were yanking her up, up, until the sound of the river disappeared into air.

Serena coughed, hard. Water spilled from her lungs. Everything blurred, but she could see a glimpse of dark hair stuck to a chiseled jaw, stormy blue eyes looking down at her.

Damien.

Damien rescued Serena from drowning but she couldn’t afford to have his attention. Every second spent with him could mean exposure of her secret.