Chapter Three: The Alpha Wing
Blood.
It's on the walls.
On the floor.
On me.
Ryker is crouched like a beast, panting, a savage gash across his ribs pulsing with dark crimson. His eyes glow like liquid silver, and his claws are still extended, dripping blood that's not his.
Castien lies slumped against the wall, unconscious, maybe dead I can't tell. The fight had ended as fast as it started, with Ryker driving him into the corner hard enough to crack stone.
He turns to me slowly. Still feral. Still heaving.
"Lyla," he says, voice roughened by adrenaline and something deeper. "Are you hurt?"
I shake my head, breathless. "No. But you, your side"
"It'll heal," he mutters, wincing as he stands.
He towers over me, shirt half-torn, chest slicked with blood. The scent of it coppery, masculine, animal mixes with his raw musk, flooding the room.
My wolf is howling inside me.
"Castien will wake up with a concussion and a warning," Ryker adds, running a hand through his blood-matted hair. "But he won't come near you again."
"Why are they all reacting like this?" I demand, voice trembling. "You're not the only Alpha here. What the hell is happening to me?"
His gaze locks onto mine haunted, dark.
"You're in heat, Lyla. Your blood's calling out. But not to just anyone… it's calling to Alphas. And the fact that you've hidden this long means you were probably masking it."
He takes a shaky step toward me.
"But now it's out. And they'll all come."
I back away.
"This was a mistake," I whisper. "I shouldn't be here. I need to leave"
"You can't," he growls. "If you walk out of this room right now, five wolves will scent you before you reach the stairs. And they won't ask for permission."
I freeze.
His voice softens. "But I can protect you. If you stay with me."
"In your dorm?" I ask, incredulous. "That's your solution?"
"It's not just a dorm," he snaps. "It's the Alpha Wing. Enchanted, warded, guarded by blood rites. No one steps inside unless I allow it."
He holds out his hand.
"Come with me."
My mind screams no. But my body... my wolf... doesn't listen. I slip my hand into his, and he wraps his fingers around mine like he's afraid I'll disappear.
He leads me down silent corridors, past murals of battles and beasts. The further we go, the more opulent the hall becomes black marble floors, silver sconces, stained glass shaped like wolves howling at the moon.
Finally, he stops at a massive ebony door carved with runes that pulse faintly.
He presses a bloody thumbprint to a sigil near the lock.
The door opens.
Inside is a sprawling, shadowed room that smells like earth and smoke and him. There's a four-poster bed draped in silver furs, a fireplace glowing low, and a balcony that opens to the moonlit forest.
He lets me go and walks to a cabinet near the wall, grabbing a bottle and a cloth.
"Sit," he commands, motioning to the couch near the fire.
I hesitate.
"Lyla. Sit."
I do.
He pulls off his ruined shirt, revealing a torso carved from war solid muscle, scars, and that raw, wild energy that makes it hard to look away. The gash on his ribs is deep, still bleeding.
"You should go to the infirmary," I whisper.
"I don't trust anyone to touch me right now," he mutters. "Only you."
My chest tightens.
He lowers himself onto the coffee table, directly in front of me. He dips the cloth in the bottle alcohol, judging by the sting in my nose and presses it to the wound with a grunt.
I flinch.
His eyes flick up.
"You squeamish?"
"No," I whisper. "Just… not used to this."
His lip lifts in a half-smile. "You'll get used to blood, little wolf. This world bleeds often."
Then he nods at the cloth. "You do it."
"What?"
He hands it to me, then leans back, arms spread, offering his wound. "I trust you more than I trust myself right now."
I swallow hard, fingers trembling as I take the cloth.
Touching him feels like grabbing fire. His skin is hot, alive. The wound is raw, angry, yet he doesn't even flinch when I press the alcohol to it. He just watches me.
"You're good at this," he murmurs. "Have you taken care of a wolf before?"
"No."
He tilts his head. "But you've seen wounds like this."
I hesitate. "Once."
"Your scent... it doesn't just say Luna. It says blood. Battle. Something more."
"I told you" I whisper, trying to mask the tremor in my voice.
"You're not just some Omega in hiding, Lyla. You're... something else. Something powerful."
I press harder than necessary, and he hisses through his teeth.
"You're infuriating."
He laughs softly, eyes gleaming. "And you're intoxicating."
He leans forward suddenly, lips a breath from mine. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."
I freeze. "Then don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't kiss me. Don't mark me. Don't touch me like that."
His voice is hoarse. "Then stop looking at me like you want it."
My cheeks burn.
He's right.
Gods, I do want it. Him. The heat between us is unbearable. But this isn't about lust.
It's about control.
"Just because we're... whatever this is... doesn't mean I'm yours."
His voice drops to a whisper. "No. But you will be."
He shifts suddenly, towering over me, hands braced on the couch beside my head. He's not touching me but I can feel the heat of his body, the strain in his muscles, the control he's barely hanging onto.
"If I were any other Alpha," he breathes against my lips, "you'd be marked already. Claimed. Taken."
I stare up at him, chest heaving. "But you're not?"
"No," he whispers. "I'm worse."
Then he pulls back, eyes dark with restraint, and stalks to the balcony, exhaling like he just walked away from murder.
I sit frozen, my skin electric, breath ragged.
He could've taken me.
He didn't.
And somehow... that makes him even more dangerous.
The door suddenly flings open. A she-wolf bursts in, eyes wild.
"Alpha Vayne," she pants. "The Headmistress summoned you. She knows about the fight."
He turns slowly, expression thunderous.
"Tell her I'll be there. But if she touches my mate, she answers to me."
The she-wolf blinks. Then stares at me. Her eyes widen.
"Oh. Oh no. She's the one?"
"Yes," Ryker growls.
She pales and vanishes.
I stand, heart pounding. "Ryker, what are they going to do?"
He turns to me, strides forward, and cups my cheek with his blood-streaked hand.
"I'll burn this school to the ground before I let them take you."
His voice is lethal.
And for the first time, I believe him.