15. Luka
15
LUKA
The black coffee burns the back of my throat as I chug it down, making sure to catch every last drop.
I’m not like Kylian, who requires an ample amount of sunlight to even begin getting out of bed, but I’m also not a morning bird like Ridge.
And while being “demoted” to instructors is humiliating, I do appreciate having a tight schedule to follow.
Today, I only have one class—Offensive Training.
Since the weather is moderate today, we chose to have the class outside. Dark clouds skid across the sky, blotting out the sun. A sudden burst of wind sends a chill throughout the clearing, but the students know better than to visibly react to the cold. They’re training to be the best of the best, the strongest warriors, the most capable protectors of not only their chosen mates but the country as a whole. If they can’t handle a little wind, then what the fuck are they doing here?
I set my to-go mug on the edge of the broken fountain—an intricate monstrosity displaying the three heads of Cerberus, all three of his faces bared in a snarl—and assess the awaiting alphas…and one beta, if you count Sam, whose parents bought him a place here.
I allow my gaze to linger on Teddie a second longer than the others. What an ungrateful, pretentious, stuck-up punk. How dare he try to fire my team. Just who the fuck does he think he is? His position as the crowned prince means nothing to me and the others here. Does he expect to always have his mommy and daddy at his beck and call? What does this mean for our country as a whole if our fearless leader isn’t even able to fight his own battles?
It also doesn’t help matters that he appears incredibly unkempt. Would it kill him to brush his damn hair? Or find clothing that doesn’t swallow his frame?
An intense surge of loathing pulsates through me.
“Eyes on me!” Ridge snaps at the students. He stands near the edge of the clearing, his hands clasped behind his back and his chin hefted imperiously in the air. There’s nothing pretty boy about him right now while his commander’s sneer is in place. “Today’s your first day of Offensive Training. Does anyone know what that means?”
Sam—the beta—tentatively lifts his hand in the air. “That you’re teaching us how to attack first?”
Ridge gives the smaller man a sardonic look. All he needs to do next is slow-clap to really make Sam feel like an idiot. “Congratulations. You know what the word offensive means.”
Sam’s cheeks redden. Beside him, Teddie’s lips purse as if he wants to say something. A part of me wishes he would, if only so I can put the prick in his place.
“But what is the point of this training?” Ridge continues, beginning to pace. “Wouldn’t it be easier to have a class encompassing all types of combat, both offensive and defensive?”
“Because defensive is synonymous with reactive. You don’t have time to think or plan. But when you’re on the offensive, everything comes down to strategy. The side with the best plan will ultimately win.”
The answer, surprisingly, comes from Teddie, whose quiet voice cuts through the air like the crack of a whip.
Ridge’s eyebrows lift, but I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or impressed.
“It seems someone has done more than played with his tiny cock during his lessons,” Ridge muses. Some of the alphas chuckle, though the majority remain perfectly still, awaiting further instruction.
“Awww. Don’t say that to my man Teddie.” Kylian materializes directly beside the prince and slings an arm around his shoulders. Teddie winces nearly imperceptibly as Kylian’s dark arm squeezes the prince’s pale neck like a boa constrictor, and I have to bite down on my grin. It seems as if the little bastard got hurt during our last class. Can’t say I’m too disappointed. “I’m sure he was able to fiddle with his microdick and listen during the lessons.”
Teddie’s cheeks begin to turn red, and his eyes flash with rage.
But still, he remains silent.
Kylian simply laughs, releases the prince, and moves toward the front of the clearing, standing shoulder to shoulder with Ridge.
“Theodore is right,” Ridge says, apparently deciding that he’s had enough of making fun of the shorter man. “A lot of times, when you’re on the defensive, you don’t have time to create and implement a strategy. You’re simply reacting. However, when you’re on the offensive, you’re able to assess and analyze the threat at hand.” A wicked grin curves up his lips. “Which brings me to your end-of-semester assignment—and the only thing you’ll be graded on.”
Anxious murmurings ripple through the assembled alphas.
“Over the course of this semester, we’ll teach you how to pick out weaknesses in your opponents and how to utilize that information to your advantage. Then, on the last day of class, you’ll face the ultimate challenge.” The smile that spreads over Ridge’s face then would make a lesser man piss himself. “Colter, come on out.”
The largest member of our group lumbers out of the academy, his mask firmly in place, only his eyes visible. His huge muscles flex as he levels a glare at the pale-faced runts staring back at him.
“You’ll each step into the ring with Colter for five minutes,” Ridge says, smirking. “You don’t have to defeat him, but you will have to survive with no more than two broken bones.”
Kylian laughs uproariously, throwing his head back, and I feel my own lips twitch.
Ridge claps his hands together, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. I suppose if we’re forced to be here, we may as well have fun with it. And what’s more fun than torturing a bunch of young, bright-eyed, hopeful alphas?
“Let’s get started.”
* * *
After Offensive Training, I head to the cafeteria. Eros Academy has a large selection of food, but most of it is so healthy I feel as if I’m walking through a fucking meadow. There’s green everywhere . I’m not complaining too much—I’ve been telling my team for years that we have to eat healthier—but would it kill them to put out a brownie or something sweet?
All of the students are still in class, so it’s just me and a handful of instructors. Kylian himself is teaching a firearm class with the help of Ridge, and Colter has retreated to our cottage.
I grab a pre-packaged salad and two grilled chicken breasts, my nose wrinkling when I see a brown spot on one of the leaves, and then claim a seat near the back of the room.
As soon as I’m seated, I pull out the file Kylian managed to snag from the headmaster’s office. I’ve just started reading over the contents when a shadow looms over the table.
With perfect ease, I slide the file closed and offer a feigned smile at the newcomers, though it quickly turns genuine when I see who’s here.
“Brock? What are you doing here?” I thought I’d perfected hiding my emotions over the years, but I can’t help the shock that seeps into my voice. I haven’t seen my old friend in…ages.
Brock and his alphas both attended the academy at the same time as me and my team. Our two groups quickly became close. However, my unit moved to the front lines, while Brock’s stayed within the safety of our borders. His father, a close friend of the queen herself, would never put his son in harm’s way.
I don’t blame Brock for that. If anything, I envy him. It would be nice to have someone vouch for my team the way his father did his.
Jamie stands on one side of Brock, nervously scraping a hand through his white-blond hair, but I don’t see their third and final member.
Brock smirks and throws himself into the chair opposite me. Jamie quickly steals the one beside him.
“Last I heard, you guys were up north making peace with Tutla,” I continue, speaking of one of the other countries that border Hypso. We actually have a pretty good relationship with Tutla, though their president refuses to help us in the war with Nóthos. He claims that it’s not his duty to involve his people in a war that doesn’t concern him. Can’t blame him, but it would be nice to have those resources at our disposal.
“We came down for…reasons.” Brock waggles his eyebrows suggestively, a grin tugging up his lips.
“Wait.” I frown as understanding dawns. “An omega? You’ve left Tutla for an omega ?” I recline back in my chair and fold my arms over my chest. “What happened to living the single life?” When I first met the three of them, they were the biggest players I’d ever known. They only had a few serious relationships that I can think of—with an omega named Maverick, which lasted for only a few months and then with a beta named Tina. Both relationships ended horribly, and the alphas swore off “love” and “flowers” and all of that romantic shit forever.
“Let me guess.” I tap my fingers against the edge of the table as a smirk dances across my face. “Your daddy called and asked for you to procreate?”
Jamie makes a face. “Really? Procreate? You had to go with that term?”
“It’s true, though. Isn’t it?”
Brock scratches distractedly at the nape of his neck. “Yeah. It’s a political match, but…”
“But?” My curiosity piques when I see the red in Brock’s cheeks.
Is he…embarrassed? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this particular emotion on my friend’s face before. Granted, I’m not the best at gauging others’ emotions—as my packmates will attest to—but I’m nearly one hundred percent certain I’ve never seen Brock look sheepish before.
“She’s really pretty. And smart too, at least according to what we uncovered.”
“Ah. So you’re stalking the poor girl.”
Jamie sputters. “Not stalking, per se…” His cheeks turn nearly as red as Brock’s. “But if we’re to mate with her, then we should probably learn a little bit about her. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I forget that dating isn’t a thing anymore,” I drawl sarcastically. “You know…that thing people do in order to get to know each other in a way that doesn’t involve stalking.”
Brock flips me off. “Fuck off.”
I smirk and return my attention to my salad before deciding I’d rather go hungry than eat this rotten shit. I push it away with a frown. “So who’s the unlucky lady?”
“Princess Brylee.” Jamie’s voice turns tender.
I feel my brows raise. “No shit?”
I’ve never met or even seen the princess before. I just hope she’s not like her brother. That obnoxious shit needs to be brought down a peg or two.
“The first meeting didn’t go well.” Brock frowns.
“Did she run away screaming when she saw your ugly faces?” I ask.
Jamie winces. “She sort of…maybe…kind of…um, fainted.”
“And not the good kind either,” Brock adds. “Like, it wasn’t an ‘I’m overcome with happiness’ type of faint. It was the ‘I can’t believe this is fucking happening to me’ faint.”
I volley my gaze between the two of them in disbelief…before throwing my head back in laughter.
I would’ve paid to see that.
“Oh god,” Jamie whispers conspiratorially to Brock. “You know it’s embarrassing when even Luka’s laughing. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him do that before.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha. Laugh it up, asshole,” Brock says dryly, though his eyes glimmer with amusement. “You won’t be laughing when we’re building a nest for our beautiful omega, and you’re still stuck at this shitty ass school.”
“Are you building a nest to catch her when she faints again?” I ask once my chuckles subside.
“In all seriousness, have you guys given any thought to your own mate?” Brock asks, expertly changing the subject.
I scoff. “Of course not.”
“You don’t want one?” He sounds genuinely surprised, as if the prospect is ridiculous.
I give him a look . “Why would I want some pampered princess—pun unintended—ruining my damn life?” I shudder at just the thought.
Every omega I’ve ever met has wanted stuff from me I wasn’t willing to give—time, attention, and affection. My time is better spent helping my country. My attention should be fixated on strategies to keep my brothers alive. And my affection? Well, I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t do that shit. Hugs and cuddles and kisses aren’t for me.
“What if you find your scent match?” Brock challenges.
“Still wouldn’t change anything.” I shrug. “Don’t want somebody thinking they can pop into my life and tell me what to do.”
“Damn, that’s cold.” Brock flinches.
“Whatever.” Changing the subject, I ask, “How long are you guys here for? Are you waiting for Sleeping Beauty to awaken?”
“We’ve actually been assigned a class for the time being. We’re taking over The Art of War from Jameson,” Jamie answers.
I whistle. “Surprised the bastard gave that class up. It was always his favorite to teach.”
“He got a call directly from the queen.” Brock shrugs. “Kind of hard to say no to her.”
“Your parents are really pushing this match, aren’t they?” I say, surprised.
“Apparently.” Brock checks his watch and releases a curse. Abruptly, he jumps to his feet, and Jamie moves to follow. “Sorry to cut this short. I have a meeting with the headmaster in a few minutes.”
I wave him away. “Don’t worry about it. I have stuff I need to do anyway.” Like finish going through the damn file.
“I’m assuming you’re attending the ball this week at Darling?” He waggles his eyebrows once more. “A lot of omegas ripe for the picking.”
Darling Academy throws a ball once a month in order for the alphas to mingle with the school’s precious omegas. Supposedly, it’s to help different groups find their scent match, but I believe it’s a front for high-profiled omegas to meet alphas with a similar status. Heaven only knows the chances of finding a scent match, especially at one of these balls, are slim to none.
Still, while the ball isn’t mandatory, it would be an opportunity for us to do some much needed recon, especially if we split up and some of us stay behind to search Eros while it’s virtually empty.
We have a job to do, after all, and despite popular belief, it isn’t merely to teach young alphas how to fight.
With that thought at the forefront of my mind, I tug the file close to me and flip it open. The name “Theodore Castor” stares back at me in big block letters.
Then, I begin to read.