What the hell was wrong with me?
The bond was there, unmistakable, buzzing faintly under my skin like a low-grade fever. And yet, it felt… muted. Not broken, no-but fraying at the edges. Was the mate bond already snapping in my soul too? Or was this just a crush gone sideways?
‘You mean the crush that makes you clench your thighs when a certain stalker bastard walks into the room?’ Summer snorted in the back of my mind. ‘Real subtle, Kai.’
Shut. Up.
I didn’t answer her. I didn’t need to-because just then, the air in the room changed. A ripple. A pull. And I didn’t even have to turn around to know why.
Dalton had arrived.
The moment he stepped into the lecture hall, my body betrayed me-treacherous muscles loosening, shoulders sinking down, breath hitching and then smoothing out under the weight of his presence. I didn’t even have to look at him. He could’ve been halfway across the world and I still would’ve felt it.
Damn.
This was not good. Not good at all.
Professor Garrett was already in front of the room, dropping books onto his desk like he was staging a dramatic entrance. The smell of worn leather, ink, and that faint trace of pipe tobacco hit me instantly. A perfume of power plays and dusty peace treaties.
I tried-really tried-to pay attention. Garrett was one of the sharpest minds when it came to political dynamics between packs and councils, and this class was supposed to prep us for real-world negotiations. But while my eyes were vaguely trained on the board, my mind was not on trade agreements or non-aggression pacts.
It was on the fact that Dalton had slipped into the seat beside me, and my whole nervous system had gone haywire.
I barely took a single note.
Every now and then I glanced over, just to check if Derrick was paying attention. Of course, he was. Calm, focused, jotting down notes with that casual grace of his. I glanced the other way, and Dalton was scribbling too-only his handwriting was messier, faster, like his brain moved quicker than his pen could keep up.
Good. They were focused.
Which meant I didn’t need to be. It was only fair they shared their notes with their mate, right?
Oh Goddess.
I just acknowledged we are mates.
Shit.
‘Welcome to the club, Summer said in a sing-song tone. ‘We’ve been here for a while. You’re late, bitch.’
I pressed my fingers to my temple. This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t feel this much. It was reckless. Dangerous. Derrick had been by my side since the beginning-crazy, obsessive, hot. Dalton was chaos in wolfskin. A wildfire. And still…
When he leaned slightly closer to ask Derrick something, I felt the heat of his breath graze my cheek and I had to clench my jaw.
I was so fucked.
When the lesson was finally winding down, Professor Garrett clasped his hands together, smiling that wicked smile that only spelled trouble for us.
“Next week,” he said, his voice slow and dramatic, “we’ll be engaging in a full council simulation. You’ll be assigned roles-elders, council members, alphas, even accused criminals. There will be deliberation, argument, persuasion. You’ll get the case files by sss tonight, along with your group assignments.”
A collective groan echoed through the hall. Mine included. I didn’t mind debating, but being stuck in a group project? Torture.
I crossed my fingers under the desk. Please, please, Moon Goddess, don’t let me be assigned with the Hollowed Moon twins. I don’t need my roommates going nuclear. Feral. Turning into criminals
Real ones.
Because if I was paired with one of those assholes, I knew exactly what Derrick and Dalton would do. The words “diplomatic incident” came to mind.
The bell rang-finally. A chorus of scraping chairs, whispered curses, and students already reaching for their phones filled the space.
I turned toward Derrick, intent on asking for his notes.
Only to find him already watching me, lips curved into that wicked smirk he wore whenever he knew he had me flustered.
“What were you thinking about during class, little mouse?” he purred.
I opened my mouth to lie. Deflect. Something.
But Dalton beat me to it, leaning in from behind me with a grin far too amused for my comfort.
“I know exactly what crossed that dirty little mind.”
“I hate you both,” I muttered, cheeks flaming.
“Nah,” Derrick said smoothly, brushing a lock of hair from my face. “Couldn’t even if you wanted. I’m too cute to be hated. Dalton too, unfortunately.”
He handed me his notes, and I practically snatched them out of his hands, trying not to melt into the desk.
“What do we do now?” Dalton asked, already stretching like a panther fresh from a nap. ” Library? Gym?”
“I actually have to make a call,” I lied quickly. “See you guys later.”
It was the perfect excuse. Vague but believable.
But I didn’t make it two steps before Derrick’s hand snagged mine, and suddenly I was pinned between rows of desks; the lecture hall already mostly empty.
“Always trying to run from us, huh?” he purred, voice like silk laced with steel. “Always trying to slip away.”
His breath ghosted my ear. “You must know by now there’s no chance, right?”
I tried to glare. Tried.
But my pulse was racing and my knees weren’t exactly holding steady.
And when Dalton flanked my other side, boxing me in completely, any hope of thinking clearly vanished.
“You can run,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded and dangerous, “but we’ll always catch you. And you must know Shade would love to chase you in the woods…”
Derrick brushed a kiss against my temple.
Dalton’s fingers traced the line of my jaw.
And just like that, my carefully built walls trembled.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to shove them both away… or drag them somewhere dark and sinfully private.
I needed air. Space. Clarity.
But instead, I just stood there-captive in a prison I hadn’t even fought to escape.
And I hated how good it felt.
Derrick’s hand was still on my waist. Dalton’s fingers brushed my wrist like he owned it.
And maybe he did. Maybe they both did.
Damn them.
I took a shaky breath, rolled my eyes harder than I probably needed to, and muttered, “Gym then.”
Dalton’s grin turned sharp. Derrick’s eyes sparkled.
I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder like armor.
“Let’s go to the gym,” I said, forcing my voice steady.
Let’s go to war, more like.
DERRICK POV
You hit the gym when your hormones are in overdrive and your wolf is howling for blood, sex, or both.
But when your fated mate is underage, in danger, and pretending to be a guy in an all-male Alpha academy?
You live in the gym.
Because every fucking cell in your body is screaming to sink your canines into her neck-and the only place where you can stop yourself from going feral is here, where no one asks why you’re tearing yourself apart rep after brutal rep.
You bleed rage through your palms on cold steel. Push until your arms shake, your back burns, and you can’t tell if it’s from the workout or the unbearable need to bury yourself inside her that’s driving you insane.
Because living with a hard-on 24/7 isn’t just inconvenient-it’s a goddamn form of torture.
She’s underage.
She’s not ready.
She’s bonded to another Alpha too.
My hands clenched around the barbell until the metal groans. I barely register the weights slamming around me. Dalton’s a few feet away, shirtless and soaked in sweat, hammering through reps like he’s got a death wish.
And Kai?
She’s stretching.
Fucking stretching in basketball shorts that should be illegal and a tank top that clings to every curve she’s trying so hard to hide.
Onyx snarls in my chest.
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