Masked Desire
Blackmoor Alpha Academy awaited, and I, a male omega masquerading as an alpha, was willingly entering a school filled with the most dominant werewolves in the country.
I stared at my reflection. At twenty, I had the build of a beta, lean but muscular enough to pass casual inspection. My dark hair fell just below my ears, and my green eyes—my mother's eyes—stared back at me with a mixture of determination and fear. Nothing about my appearance screamed "omega," but my scent would betray me in an instant without the formula.
The formula that had cost my family everything.
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