chapter 3

School was torture. Every student can relate to this (if not you're probably one of the popular kids or some super human). For me high school was a different kind of hell. I was a weak nerdy werewolf surrounded by other teenaged werewolves and humans. I didn't just get your normal bullying- I got the supernatural version too.

That included among others three broken fingers- for being 'a know it all' in class, insects of different species finding their way into my sandwiches and of course, getting rejected by my soul mate. Who hates my guts. Which was fine because the feeling was mutual.

Anyway, with my heinous experience with high school behind me, I was a lot more optimistic to start college. Turn a fresh page.

Newbury College was still in Seattle though, meaning it was inevitable that I'd see the same kids that used to bully me. But I figured the snobs would be so busy with their new obligations that I could ghost through my classes undisturbed. Get my degree in Fine Arts, start a career as a comic artist and get paid well enough to rent my dream apartment for me and my mom.

And I was right, during my first few days my usual crowd of tormentors left me alone. As for my other headache, he hadn't bothered me in either, hadn't even glanced my way. College must've been so much work even Kane forgot I existed. Peaceful life, here I come.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

I was heading to my morning art class which was located inside the two-story blue building on the edge of campus. One moment I was strolling along, the building in sight and the next it wasn't there. Two hands pulled me from behind- shoved me into a narrow space. The area between the cafeteria wall and the art branch. Out of sight from the public eye, an ideal spot for a murder to occur without any witnesses.

I tensed, mind focusing on the feel of the knife in my pocket. I was about to pull it out when I caught the scent of my assailant, pine and cologne.

Kane had my wrist entrapped in his calloused hand, his body only a few steps away from mine. Close enough I couldn't stop my eyes from wandering, drinking in his appearance. Short hair dark as sin, skin a few shades tanner from the summer vacation under the Miami sun. But the tan was the only thing the Miami sun had managed to warm apparently. His artic eyes and frosty demeanor remained unchanged. His features were icy, sculpted perfection.

Despite myself, I felt my heart beat pick up speed. The traitor knew we were near him. My fingers itched, wanting to reach out, feel, touch what was supposed to be mine. The thought brought down a wave of revulsion over me. I clenched my hands into a fist. Like hell I'd touch him.

And perhaps it was the anger at my attraction for someone who loved to hurt me, or maybe I was still running on the high from last night's fight, either way, I couldn't stop the words that slipped out of my lips.

"Only three days into college and you've already got me in a dark alley, Wilder?"

His fist slammed into the wall besides my head.

The flicker of resilience died out, snuffed out by my old friend. Fear. Ear ringing, I lowered my gaze to his boots, a submissive gesture. He dropped my hand, took my chin and pulled it gruffly upwards to meet his molten gaze.

My heart skipped for a different reason now. Werewolves' eyes changed to amber whenever they were on the edge of violence. A fist in the wall was only a drop in the ocean if he really lost control.

"Remember who you're speaking to, omega," he hissed.

A pause. His fingers tightened around my jaw.

I flinched. "I'm sorry."

He had power over me and he knew it, not just because he was the alpha's son. Kane was a dominant werewolf of his own right, a fact he never failed to make known. Yet there was something different in his eyes today, a tinge of fear? It was gone before I could confirm it was really there though.

"Much better," he muttered, a finger drifting from my cheek to my neck. A touch one could mistake for a caress, if it hadn't stopped at my pulse, pressing almost painfully there. "You spoke to Fred Keaton yesterday in class."

"He borrowed my paints," I whispered, staring at his collarbone. I couldn't hold his gaze, not when he was edgy.

The rest of his hand drifted lower until he had it around my neck. One squeeze enough to snap it.

"You don't speak to anyone in school, or do you need reminding?"

"What?" I gasped, giving him an incredulous look. "We're in college now. How do you expect me to-"

"You speak to no one. No. One," he growled, his expression suddenly feral. I got a glimpse of his sharpened canines, winced at the graze of claws on my skin.

"I won't."

The promise was stupid and not at all rational, but then again bullies never did things rationally. It didn't matter to me, at this point I'd say anything to get his claws off of me.

It worked. His expression smoothed, amber orbs cooling over as he stepped away from me. I breathed out, hating the way I had to lean against the wall for support.

"Why can't you leave me alone?" I asked.

"Because you're mine," he replied coolly.

"You don't want me," I muttered.

He stuffed his hands in his jeans and tilted his head at me. "I don't."

He turned, sauntered away. My knees buckled the moment he was gone. I took out my knife, grasping it in my trembling hands.

I went over the encounter in my head. Created different versions. Every one of them ending with me gutting him, over powering him, standing up to him. Any scenario besides this one.

It didn't stop the sobs.