Maisie
I arrived at school late, soaking wet through my clothes and shivering like a drowned rat. The drizzle had become rain approximately forty five seconds after I left the packhouse, because the universe often liked to shit in my face.
I missed the bus. I missed orientation. I missed the tour. I walked four blocks in the wrong direction before a janitor took pity on me and pointed me toward the lecture hall, and by the time I found it, the period was nearly over and every single seat was taken.
"Ah, Ms. Adams," said Professor Halven, peering over wired-rimmed glasses. "Late again, I see. Swept up in yet another hurricane. I don't suppose it's too much to hope that you left that particular habit behind in high school."
Laughter rang through the hall as my teeth clattered, "S-sorry, M-Mr. Halven."
He ignored me, facing the class once more. "And now, your questions."
I started for the back, embarrassment flushing my cheeks red as my shoes squeaked loudly.
More laughter.
If the ground would be kind enough to open up and swallow me whole.
This was recoverable. The first day was always the worst day, and everyone would forget this by next week. Hopefully.
They wouldn't. Half of this room had known me since high school, and the other half would hear stories by noon. Ashbourne was a Pack town. Everyone knew everyone, which meant everyone knew Maisie Adams: the clumsy Omega maid who walked into walls, tripped over flat surfaces, and had once, memorably, knocked an entire refreshment table into Alpha Dante's son, Cole Hayes, at the harvest festival.
So much for fresh starts.
A hand shot up from the left. Jenny Park, one of my two best friends, waved at the empty seat beside her and I slid into it and exhaled.
"Maisie," she whispered, honey-brown eyes wide. "What happened to you?"
"What didn't?" I sighed tiredly.
Regina wordlessly pulled her boyfriend, Nick's soccer jacket off his shoulders and draped it over mine. Nick, to his credit, only winked at me.
Regina Braxton was Lana's stepsister. The Braxton family's daughter. She had grown up in the same house as my twin, watched exactly how Lana spoke about me and had once stood up for me during a Pack event when Lana's friends thought it was a good idea to test my resistance to scalding hot tea.
We've been thick as thieves since then.
"Happy birthday, May," she said with a half-giggly smile.
"Is it?" I mumbled sourly, snuggling deeply into the jacket.
My ears perked up as Darby Foreman said loudly enough to carry across the hall, "What actually happens when a mate bond is rejected?"
Professor Halven's stare flattened. "I'm positive that is not a part of the syllabus, Ms. Foreman."
Laughter echoed in the hall, but Darby wouldn't be deterred. "Just last fall, there was a case of a girl dying in Ashbrook because she got rejected. Many of us turn eighteen this year and would like to know how to avoid that fate. This is a werewolf academy, after all. One lecture on it wouldn't hurt."
There were many more agreeing nods this time. I found myself leaning forward despite myself.
Professor Halven seemed mildly irritated, but he set down his notes. "Most of you have been told a romantic story. The Moon Goddess selects two wolves and binds their souls." He pauses. "That part is true. What isn't is that it can be broken with a tantrum and three convenient words. I Reject You."
Another round of laughter. But Halven didn't laugh.
"When one wolf rejects another, the words do not sever the bond." His gaze swept across us, heavily. "They wound it. The wolf experiences rejection as spiritual mutilation. The Goddess forged that tie. When one side attempts to tear away from it, the backlash is, in the same way, divine."
"But I read that accepting the rejection ends it," a boy said.
Professor Halvern's smile was thin. "Nonsensical fiction."
Murmurs broke across the hall.
"The bond remains. The rejected wolf suffers most. Physically, emotionally, and the result is always catastrophic, with one of two endings. Death. Or insanity."
Another girl, Tanya, raised her hand. "Then how does one completely sever the bond before the pain kills them?"
"You cannot. There is only one authority on this continent who can dissolve the Goddess-ordained bond."
We all knew who.
The Lycan Queen.
"A living descendant of the Goddess's first bloodline, the Queen's abilities stretches far beyond our imagination, and one of many is being able to override the tether." He gestured with flourish. "But she does not grant dissolution lightly. There must be a petition from both parties. A hearing. Only if the reason stands strong enough, will she break the bond. But even that may take weeks. Enough time to shatter a person completely."
He stepped off the podium. "Which is why the law against rejection was passed by the first king. It remains frowned upon by society and punishable by banishment." His grey eyes refocused on Claire. "Now, if that would be all, class."
I sat very still for a moment, the weight of it settling somewhere uncomfortable in my chest.
Death. Or insanity.
I shivered.
***
The hallways were packed with students, first years and seniors alike. Fliers were going about for invitations to the mixer next week. I couldn't go, not with all of the chores I had to tend.
"Of course, they go here," Regina sighed wistfully. "I would pay a hefty sum to see what's packed underneath. For observational purposes, of course."
Jenny snorted, but her voice was equally dreamy. "Pretty sure you have to be one of them to even get noticed. I would right about sell my left kidney to mate with one of them."
I turned to the sight of four Lycans males crossing the hallway with an air of superiority that even the most powerful Alpha in Ashbourne couldn't duplicate if he wanted to.
The world simply bent the rules for and around them. The crowd of first years and seniors alike parted, unbidden, and stared unabashedly. You either wanted to fuck them or be them.
They were made different. Some said it was because they were the Moon Goddess's direct descendants. Others were convinced they were simply gods descended from above to preside over us.
The latter might seem a little obnoxious until you discovered they were all, indeed, royals. Nobility. But that wasn't all. You only had to look at them to understand.
They were so beautiful, it was unfair. They were like Greek gods wading through a room of plain mortals like us. Over six foot seven inches tall. Tanned, flawless skins, thick ridges of proportioned muscles that made you think of all the things you could eat off their bodies.
Eyes that glowed like the sun. An aura that crushed and screamed danger. You could never mistake a Lycan for a Werewolf. The difference was too vast to compare and bordered on rude. And it didn't make it any easier that they were better at everything.
Hotter. Faster. Stronger. Larger. More lethal. Where Werewolves were fierce, Lycans were deadly. They had the tendency to kill first and ask later. So, naturally, no one fucked with or talked to them. Not that they ever mingled with our kind.
In the whole world, there were fewer than twenty Lycans left. They were a dying-out race and that made them that much more special and highly sought after. Hence, having four of them in a small town like Ashbourne was like experiencing comets fall from the skies once in a million years.
Even worse, they were all enrolled in the Academy. I thought it was strange, but everyone else only seemed concerned with drooling.
I looked away.
I knew better than to swoon like every other female. I was an Omega. Lycans were only attracted to strength, intelligence, and beauty. They rarely glanced at us, and in the event that they did, it was always an Alpha blooded female.
Never someone like me.
I shuddered again, the cold seeping deeper into my bones. "If we don't get somewhere warm, I just might turn into a fucking popsicle–"
My wolf who had been quietly humming since I woke up suddenly surged forward with a force that knocked the breath out of me.
I stopped walking.