Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“Ugh, eww,” someone whispered. “That’s gross, B.”
“It’s a lie! I didn’t piss myself!” Badr toppled his chair shooting up. “Paxton did this!”
“Oooh,” I crowed. “Paxton peed on your crotch? That’s super kinky, fate. I’m not into that, but you guys have your fun.”
His expression was terrible to behold. I could hear his hating me over Paxton’s sputters and denials.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he hissed. “You think that just because you’re the mother wolf, nothing and no one can hurt you.” Badr dropped his fists on the table, leaning over me to make my eyes cross. “You’re wrong.
“I’m going to wipe that smirk off your face. Permanently.”
I looked him dead in the eyes. “And how exactly do you think you’re going to do that?”
Inexplicably, Badr smirked. “Oh, I’ve got a few ideas.” He flicked off me. “Trip.”
Badr shot back. I didn’t have a second to understand what was happening when my skin lit on fire.
“Ahh!” Screaming, I bolted up as the nice server hit the floor. The coffee she was bringing soaked my head, neck, back, arm, and chest—burning the flesh raw. Raucous laughter roared through the mess hall, almost as loud as my screams.
“Guess what, bitch? That is my dress”—Ava spun me around, claws sprouting from her nail beds—“and I’ll be taking it back now.”
She ripped the dress clean off my body.
I ran.
Covering myself best I could, I took off amidst raining books, pens, and notepads. Most of them didn’t have food to throw at me, so they threw everything else.
I tripped coming out the door, slid on my heels, and crashed into the opposite wall. The pain was blinding. Laughs pounded my sensitive ears. I peeled myself off and kept running, not stopping. Not looking back.
AN HOUR LATER, I FOUND myself walking through the lecture hall—searching for my classroom.
It took time before my wolf healing repaired my scalded, burned skin. I couldn’t stand a hot bath until it did.
When I was finally healed, I washed, changed into a simple pair of jeans and a blue sweater, then... I stood there.
I stood there—stock-still and barely breathing—staring at the letter I taped to the vanity mirror. I wanted to see it in the morning when I woke up, and every night as I fell asleep. I wanted the words singed on my soul where nothing would ever heal it.
I wanted the pure rage and hate that fucking letter gave me to seethe and weep like an infected sore, rotting my heart from the inside out and reminding me why I killed Castor Tahan—
—and why I’d fucking do it again.
I consulted my schedule as I walked, gaze flicking from door number to door number.
I already knew from being the mother wolf what I’d be learning if I was doing the priestess track. That track was heavy into learning the history of Wolf Nation, psychology so that we could become the de facto advisors and counselors of Wolf Nation, and martial arts so that both our forms—woman and wolf—were lethal weapons.
I assumed the alpha track would be similar in many ways, and I was wrong.
7:20-7:50: Homeroom
8:00-9:00: Leadership & Diplomacy
9:10-10:10: History of Wolf Nation
10:20-11:20: History of The Dominions
11:30-1:30: Lunch
1:40-2:40: Economics
2:50-3:50: Strategic Thinking
4:00-5:00: Special Lessons
5:10-6:10: Martial Arts
6:20-7:20: Athletics
7:30-9:30: Dinner
The schedule was intense. We were in classes all day, and I didn’t even know what they were all for. Athletics? Strategic Thinking? Special Lessons? What did all of that even mean?
My father was alpha of the Volana Clan, another name for the moon wolves. He never told me his time in Corvin was this intense. But then, Father hadn’t told me a great many things. He was always a quiet, introspective man, but after Mother died, he retreated into himself. Any conversation about the past just made him think of her, so we stopped talking about life before.
We stopped talking period.
My eyes lit on Room 115. Homeroom. Tucking my schedule away, I pushed inside.
“—what you’ve decided for—” The speaker cut off, his gaze flying to me along with everyone else in the room. He stepped out from behind his podium—revealing all six feet of his long, muscled legs, tight suit, broad shoulders, and scowling, handsome face. “Ah, Miss Daciana. How nice of you to finally join us.”
“Sorry, sir, I was—”
“I’m not interested in excuses. That’s a demerit for being late. Sit down.”
My eyes bugged. A demerit for being two minutes late?! Was this guy for real! “But, sir—”
“Would you like another?”
I snapped my jaw shut, internally screaming. Nia did say they were harder on people in the alpha track than they were anyone else. If I complained about my treatment, Dagem would no doubt use that strict treatment as an excuse until she finally booted me out.
Silently, I shook my head to titters and laughs from the class.
“Good,” he growled. “Sit.”
I looked around, taking in the modest classroom. It was small and windowless with shining hardwood floors, loaded-down bookshelves lining the side walls, and the instructor’s desk, podium, and chalkboard. The one thing that set this room apart from other classrooms was that each student had a proper mahogany desk with drawers, pull-out writing tables, pencil holders, backpack hook, and plush swivel chairs made to cradle the spine to sleep.