The Wolfless Runaway Princess In An Alpha Academy

Chapter One

Ivy's pov

The iron gates of Black-Ridge Academy loomed over me like a giant, ancient beast.

I gripped the straps of my backpack until the nylon bit into my palms, my knuckles turning white. Every step I took onto the manicured stone path felt like a betrayal of the girl I had been only forty-eight hours ago. Back then, I was the Alpha’s daughter. I was royal. I was a girl with sunset-colored hair who believed the moon was a friend.

As I moved through the courtyard, I kept my chin tucked into the stiff, unfamiliar collar of my black blazer. The feel of it around my body felt very wrong. The trousers felt loose against my legs, and the lack of weight on my shoulders....the space where my long hair used to brush against my back....felt like a fresh wound. I could still hear the sounds of Gran’s silver scissors in that damp cave, seeing the golden-red clumps hit the dirt like dead leaves.

“Find Professor Valerius,” Gran’s voice echoed in my mind, a desperate, frantic tone “He is the only one who knows why some wolves stay asleep. Get the herbs, find your wolf, and leave. You stay no more than a week, Ivy. Do you hear me? Not a day more.”

I didn't even have a week. The scent-blocker she had brewed in that rusted vial was just a temporary shield. I could smell it now...bitter charcoal and rain..clinging to my skin, fighting to drown out the sweet, floral scent of the girl I was hiding. If it failed, or if I broke a sweat, the hundreds of Alphas in this building would scent me like blood in the water.

I pushed open the towering doors of the main hall, and the air hit me.

It wasn't just air. It was a thick, suffocating aura of raw, masculine power. The hallway smelled of cedarwood, old leather, and the sharp, metallic tang of dominant predators. My skin crawled. Every instinct I had..the instincts of a girl in a den of wolves..screamed at me to turn and run back to the forest.

But there was no home to go back to. I could still see my father’s back as he walked away from me at the Altar. I could still feel the stinging heat of the silver spears Marcus had pointed at my throat.

I forced my feet to move. I passed a group of students leaning against the stone pillars. They were massive, their shoulders broad enough to block out the light, their movements possessed of a fluid, terrifying grace. One of them, a boy with a jagged scar across his knuckles, glanced my way. His eyes narrowed, searching for a scent, a spark of power, anything to identify the newcomer.

I dropped my gaze instantly, my heart hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against my ribs. Look at the floor. Don’t speak. Be a shadow.

I reached the registrar’s desk, where a woman sat with a look of permanent boredom. My fingers trembled as I slid the fake ID card across the wood. The name printed on it felt like a huge lie, well it was a lie.... Nicole ‘Nick’ Martins.

"I'm... Nick," I said. My voice came out too high, too thin. I winced and cleared my throat, forcing a lower, gravelly rasp. "Nick Martins. I’ve just arrived."

The woman didn't even look up, she stamped a slip of paper with a sharp thud that made me jump. "Suite 412. West wing. If you’re late for the orientation assembly, it’s a week of kitchen duty. Move along, Martins."

I snatched the paper and bolted for the stairs, my lungs burning. I didn't stop until I found the door to 412. I fumbled with the key, slipped inside, and slammed it shut, leaning my back against the wood as I gasped for air.

The room was small, but it was my sanctuary for now. I collapsed onto the bed, the reality of my situation finally down. I hadn't turned when I was supposed to, I was a girl and I was trapped in a school designed to train the most ruthless Alphas in the supernatural world.

My stomach let out a violent, echoing growl that seemed to vibrate through my entire body. I hadn't eaten since I was shoved into the back of the transport truck that brought me here. The hunger was a sharp claw in my gut, but the fear of leaving this room was worse.

I remembered the bag Gran had packed...the extra binders to flatten my chest, the vials of charcoal liquid, the heavy silver coins. She had known. She had been preparing for my failure for months. The betrayal stung more than the hunger. She had let me hope for a wolf she knew I didn't have.

I will get my wolf, I whispered to the empty room, clutching my stomach. I will find the Professor, I will wake the beast, and I will go back and make them look me in the eye.

Eventually, the hunger won. I couldn't find the Professor on an empty stomach.

I reapplied the scent-blocker, rubbing the cold, grey liquid into my neck and wrists until I smelled like a rainy forest. I checked myself in the mirror one last time. My face was gaunt, my eyes rimmed with the red fatigue of two days of crying, and my black hair was an neven mess. I looked like a sick boy. Perfect.

I followed the roar of voices and the heavy scent of roasted meat to the Great Hall. It was a really big room filled with long wooden tables and hundreds of boys. The sheer volume of their heartbeats, the low rumble of their voices, felt like a storm.

I grabbed a tray, my hands shaking so much the silverware rattled against the plastic. I kept my head down, searching for a corner where I could eat in peace and disappear into the wall.

But as I sat down at a table in the far back, a tray shattered against the stone floor just a few yards away.

"Clean it up, runt."

A large student with a sneer that looked carved into his face stood over a smaller, thin boy. The smaller boy was on his hands and knees, his eyes wide with a terror I knew too well.

"I... I'm sorry, I tripped," the boy whispered.

The bully laughed, a harsh sound, and kicked the boy’s leg out from under him, sending him sprawling into the spilled stew. "I said clean it. Use your shirt. Or maybe use your tongue."

The surrounding students either laughed or turned away. No one moved. No one cared.

A heat I didn't recognize began to boil in my chest. It wasn't the heat of a wolf, but the white-hot rage of a girl who had been silenced for too long. I thought of the stones hitting my shoulder at the Altar. I thought of my mother’s silent tears.

Before my mind could scream a warning, I was on my feet.

"Leave him alone!"

My voice rang out across the cafeteria, cutting through the noise.

The room went deathly silent. Hundreds of Alphas frozen mid-breath. The bully turned slowly, a predatory grin spreading across his face as he sized me up. "What did you say, little pup?"

I stepped forward, my pulse thudding in my ears. "I said, pick on someone your own size. He said he was sorry."

The bully started to walk toward me, but he never reached me.

The air in the room suddenly changed. It became heavy, freezing, and impossibly thin. A figure stood up from a table in the deep shadows of the hall...someone taller, broader, and radiating a level of power that made the other Alphas look like children.

In a blur of speed so fast my eyes couldn't even track it, he was there.

One second he was across the room, the next, his hand was clamped around my throat. He slammed me back against the stone wall with a force that knocked the soul right out of my body. My head hit the wall with a dull sound.and spots danced in my vision.

He was so close I could feel the scorching heat of his skin. He didn't speak. He leaned his head down, his nose pressing firmly into the pulse point of my neck...right where the scent-blocker was strongest.

He took a long, slow, terrifying breath, inhaling the air against my skin.

My blood turned to ice. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.

He pulled back just an inch, his molten gold eyes burning into mine with a dark, dangerous hunger that made me feel like I was standing on the edge of a cliff.

"And what exactly are you..." he growled, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that shook me to my very core. "...Kitten?"