6. Kylian
6
KYLIAN
The others are looking at this stint at the academy as some sort of punishment, but not me. What my packmates fail to realize is that this is actually a miracle in disguise.
We’re not the scrawny alphas who started Eros Academy years ago and were pushed into the dirt.
We’re now the asshole professors who are able to push the scrawny alphas into the dirt.
Am I the only one who can see the fun in that?
I whistle merrily as I walk the perimeter of the campus. Headmaster Anal Licker believes that I’m merely getting familiar with the lay of the land, and that’s true…mostly. But that’s not the only reason I’m out and about so goddamn early in the morning.
I mean, it’s only nine. Nine . I should still be in bed, dammit, wrapped around my pillow like some sort of human-hybrid-koala creature. If the sun is not fully in the center of the sky, then it’s too early to be up and about. I don’t have a lot of rules, but one is that no one, not even my brothers, can wake me up before noon.
Not even if they’re bleeding to death—which actually happened during our last station. I told Luka to put a bandage over that nasty head wound of his and come back in three hours. Typically, out of our group, I’m in the best mood most of the time. So long as that time is after noon.
Up ahead, I spot a herd of second-years doing jumping jacks while Alpha Jameson screams at them to “PICK UP THE DAMN PACE OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL STAB YOUR EYEBALL OUT!”
I’ve always liked Alpha Jameson.
I know the third-years will be in one of the classrooms at this time of morning, while the fourth-years will be participating in Scenario. I can’t help but wonder what evil, malicious activity my packmates dreamt up for them this time around. Technically, I’m supposed to teach that class with them, but Ridge told me to “walk the perimeter.” His exact words. I don’t know what he wants me to look for, but it’s whatever. At least I get to experience fresh air that isn’t tainted by the blood of younger alphas.
As I pass the second-years, Alpha Jameson nods his head once, his grizzly face twisted into a customary scowl. I smile and salute him before turning to the sweaty men now moving on to burpees. Ugh. Burpees. The bane of my existence.
I step forward to clap Jameson on the shoulder good-naturedly.
“Isn’t that enough burpees for today?” I ask my old instructor with a cheerful grin. One of his gray eyebrows arches.
A few of the second-years send me relieved smiles, and I have to hold back my snicker.
Most people see my cheery disposition and believe I’m some sort of knight in shining armor. Ha. Only a few things truly amuse me—blood, death, guts, and my favorite handgun.
Is it psychotic that the pain of others brings a smile to my face? Probably.
Do I care? Not even a little bit.
“Why don’t you have them do burpee tuck jumps instead?” I wink at the students, and suddenly, their expressions of admiration turn to ones of hatred and betrayal. That only causes my smile to broaden.
If they don’t fear you, then have them hate you. Is there really a difference between the two?
Jameson smirks and fiddles with the whistle around his neck. “You’re an asshole, Kylian. You know that, right?”
“If you mean I have a good one, then you’ll be right.” I clap his shoulder again before stepping away.
Just before I can disappear around the corner of the school, the high-pitched screech of a whistle rends the air. “All right, boys! You heard the man. One hundred burpee tuck jumps. Now!”
I chuckle and continue on my merry way.
Almost against my will, my gaze slides toward Darling Academy, separated from our school by a hedge and wall. I’ve only been to the omega school once before—back when I was a student here instead of an instructor—and it reminded me of something you would see in a fairy-tale book. Everything was new and shiny and sparkly and nauseatingly perfect.
If Darling is supposed to mirror a fairy castle, Eros Academy is designed to mimic a villain’s fortress. Square black stone towers thrust up into the sky. Even though arrows were abandoned centuries ago except for sport, the upper floors are sprinkled with slits for them. The lower floors boast stained glass scenes of violence.
Meanwhile, more modern weapons dot the lawn. Tanks. Machine guns. All of the mechanical killing machines that alphas have invented throughout the centuries.
There are no working fountains here, and the shrubbery is not carved into animals. Function trumps form, and the scent of machine oil is everywhere.
The contrast between the two campuses is as stark as the contrast between alphas and omegas.
I remember the one ball I attended at Darling Academy. Usually, they host these events once a month, but my pack always came up with an excuse why we couldn’t attend.
Okay, maybe “excuse” is too strong of a word.
Mostly, we had Colter glare at the headmaster until he agreed to let us skip it.
But we attended one ball, near the end of our term at the academy, in the hopes of finding an omega to call our own. We’ve given up hope of ever finding our scent match—those are immensely rare as it is—so we thought we could settle for a sweet omega who wouldn’t shy away from our issues.
What a fucking disaster that ended up being.
For years, I was upset by the prospect. I grew up with a mother and four fathers who loved each other intensely. I wanted that for myself, for my pack. But over time, reality warped that hope into resentment that then morphed into a grim sort of understanding. It’s not as if we can bring an omega into our lives, anyway. With our jobs, she’ll be dead in weeks, unless we make her stay home by herself.
And that doesn’t sit well with me either.
I kick at a loose pebble as bitterness blossoms in my chest.
Okay, maybe I lied before. Maybe I am still slightly resentful over the fact that our pack is too damn scary to hold down an omega.
A curt, strident voice on the other side of the wall captures my attention. I have to bite down on my lower lip to keep from laughing out loud.
How old is Madam Ellora by now? Five hundred? I swear that woman is immortal.
“Shoulders back! Back straight! Tummy in!” she calls. “Harper, perfect!” And then, sharper, “Brylee! No! You’re doing it all wrong! Start again!”
This time, I can’t keep my chuckles quiet, and a few of them slip free unbidden. Fortunately, I’m still far enough away that no one can hear me.
God, is this all the omegas have to deal with? Walking ? These pampered princesses wouldn’t survive a day at Eros Academy.
Grinning from ear to ear, I move forward, desperately wishing there wasn’t a hedge and wall separating me from the omegas. I could really use a show.
“Piper, you’re doing amazing. Perfect posture, Alanna!” A beat and then, “Brylee! No! No! No! You’re a lady, not a duck! Walk like one!”
I smother my laughter with my hand.
And that’s when it hits me.
The sweetest scent I’ve ever smelled in my life teases my nostrils. It reminds me of apple pie—fruity, with the barest hints of cinnamon. My cock immediately hardens in my pants.
What the fuck?
This can’t be happening.
But it is. I know it in the depths of my soul, though I’ve never experienced it before. Every alpha has learned about it, read about it, whispered about it in the darkened corners of the bars.
Scent match.
One of the ladies on the other side of that wall…is my scent match.
Our scent match.
I’m running before I can think better of it, trying to find a gap in the hedge and wall that will allow me to get to her. But when my search proves futile, I think, fuck it and take a running leap over the hedge—despite the fact that it comes to the center of my chest. When I land on the other side, I eye the gray stone wall that’s still blocking me from Darling Academy with a growl. The monster has to be twenty-five feet tall. I want to tear it down. Destroy it. Burn it to ash.
Right now, it’s the only thing keeping me from my mate.
I grab one of the protruding stones and find a crevice for my foot. Then, I begin to climb.
On the other side, I hear Madam Ellora say, “That’s enough for today, girls. Head inside for your morning tea.”
No!
I force myself to climb even faster, sweat beading on my temples from the exertion. I throw my arms over the top of the wall, and my body quickly follows. I land unceremoniously in the hedge lining the Darling side of the wall with a thump that shudders through my bones.
My pulse racing, I jump to my feet and track the group of girls being herded inside of the academy.
One of them is my mate.
I allow my eyes to drift over each one.
No…not her.
Not her.
Not her either.
Desperation fuels my movements, causing me to take a single step forward.
I catch a flash of golden hair just before she disappears inside of the school.
My chest feels incredibly tight, and I can’t get a full breath in.
That’s her.
That’s my mate.
Our mate.
Our scent match.
Who the fuck is she?
What’s her name?
“Alpha! What are you doing here? You know you can’t be on this campus outside of designated meeting times!” A frail woman grabs my arm and begins to haul me toward the front of the school. For a tiny omega, she’s surprisingly strong—but I’m also not fighting her.
I can’t focus on anything but the scent of my mate. Even now, it lingers in the air, the most enticing aroma I’ve ever encountered.
The woman continues to babble on and on about “following the rules” and “protocol,” but I tune her out.
How will the guys react when I tell them about my discovery?
Do I even dare to say anything?
Ridge will freak, Luka will probably insist that we have no contact with her, and Colt…
Who the fuck knows what he will do?
No, maybe it’s best I keep this to myself, at least until I can figure out who she is, where she came from, and how to claim her.
Baby, if you think this is a Cinderella story, you’re so, so wrong. I won’t be the Prince Charming in your story.
I’ll be the monster who swallows you whole.