All Chapters of Icy Nights: Mated to the Three Alphas: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The bus doors wheeze open and the cold hits her face so hard her eyes water."North Star campus." The driver doesn't look up from his phone. "Watch your step. Slick out there.""Thanks," Jessie says, and the word comes out shaky because her teeth are already chattering. She drags her suitcase down the steps, the wheels banging on each one, and nearly eats it at the bottom. Doesn't. But close. The wind slices straight through her hoodie and she realizes, standing there with her fingers already going numb, that she left her good gloves in her old dorm back in Buffalo.Of course.She shuffles toward Welker Dorm, head tucked down, suitcase wheels catching on frozen slush every few feet. Someone has taped a tiny plastic snowman to the vending machine outside the entrance. Its head is lopsided. She notices it for half a second and then forgets it.Inside, the hallway smells like burnt popcorn and some kind of floral spray that's trying too hard. Room 314. She pushes the door open.A blonde

The cage door rattles but doesn't budge."Come on." She yanks the latch again. Nothing. The mesh is digging into her shoulder blades and the mascot head is still crooked, so she's stuck staring at the locker room through one eye hole. Rubber floor mats with tape residue on them. A bin of used towels. Someone's jockstrap hanging off a hook near the showers, which is just. Great.She knows exactly who did this. Trent Lasky and a couple of his frat buddies were cracking up as they shoved her in here after the game. "Team tradition," they'd said. "Rookie mascot gets the cage." Real creative."Hello?" She shakes the door. It clangs but stays shut. "Seriously. Let me out."The post-game crowd noise is muffled through the concrete, a distant roar like a TV left on in another room. She kicks the cage. Hurts her foot more than the door. She kicks it again anyway.Her hoodie is stuck to her back. Her hair is plastered to her forehead in wet strings. She probably smells like a wet dog that crawl

JessieThe restroom mirror is cracked down the middle, but it’s the only thing in this building that isn’t vibrating.I turn the faucet. The water is freezing. I cup it in my hands and splash my face, but the chill doesn’t touch the fever burning under my skin.Snow and blood.Silas’s voice loops in my head. Quiet. Lethal.I grab a rough brown paper towel and scrub at my cheeks like I can wipe his words off my skin. My reflection stares back. Pale. Shaking. Eyes still a normal, boring brown.But my pulse is a jackhammer against my throat. And underneath the cheap lavender soap of the bathroom, I can still smell him. Black tea. Damp earth. Rain.I shove the paper towel into the trash and push out the door. I need Tinsley. I need Brooke. I need to get out of this bar before my skin crawls right off my bones.I step back into the main room, and the wall of sound hits me like a physical blow. Neon lights, spilled beer, the heavy thump of the bass rattling my teeth.I grab a fresh Coke from

JessieA tray hits the laminate two tables over, and my shoulders jump up around my ears before I decide to let them back down.I tighten my grip on my own tray without meaning to, like my hands already know something my brain hasn't caught up to yet. The cafeteria at lunch is loud enough to hurt. Grease and wet coats drying on the radiators. Somewhere behind me a fork clatters off a table and nobody even looks up.Rule one: don't look at the Golden Wolves. Rule two: don't sit near them.I find a spot at the end of a bench by the radiator, warm wood under my jeans, and I've got maybe four bites of pasta in when I feel it start to fall apart before it even does.The bench dips. Wood groans under new weight, and somebody drops down right next to me like the seat was already his."You're eating the carb-loaded mush. Bold strategy."I don't have to look. Pear skin and something peppery hits me first, bright, cutting straight through the grease and radiator heat. Jonah Kline. Something low

JessieThe blue glare of my phone lights up my thumb. I stand against the cold cinderblock wall of the Welker Dorm hallway, shivering. The fluorescent tube above me buzzes without rhythm.Stop smelling like them.Unknown number. I hit delete, then undelete. My thumb settles over Block, but I don't press it.Tinsley yanks the door open, scarf half-wrapped around her neck."You're doing the thing where you stare at your phone like it owes you rent," Tinsley says, grabbing my arm. "We're leaving now. Brooke needs a break from organic chemistry, and I am not watching you spiral into your mattress after you spent twenty minutes disappearing into the communal bathroom.""I'm fine," I say, shoving the phone into my back pocket."She's not fine," Brooke calls from inside the room. "Grab her jacket."Whoever sent it isn't guessing. They know enough to connect me to a scent, and that's the part that turns my stomach."Let's go," Tinsley insists, tugging my sleeve.Six minutes. I count every step