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Ruthless Alpha College

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Summary

They rule the academy. They own the night. And they just caught the girl hunting them. I came to King’s University for one reason: revenge. The official story says my brother died in a tragic pack boundary accident, but the blood-stained silver dagger I found in his belongings proves he was murdered by the campus elite. To find the truth, I risked everything to infiltrate the underground Feral Gala—only to collide with the two most ruthless, untouchable Alpha Kings on campus. One is a cold, calculating predator with dark hair and amber eyes. The other is a broad-shouldered, tattooed storm with blonde hair and blue gaze. They control the student body, they command the pack, and the moment my scent hit the air, their predatory instincts claimed me as their shared mate. Now, I’m trapped in a dangerous game of forced proximity. They think I'm just an innocent Southern Omega playing with fire. They don't know I'm tracing every clue to reveal their darkest secrets. But with their heavy hands dragging me into intoxicating obsession and high-heat punishment, the line between uncovering my brother's killer and surrendering to two lethal Alphas is disappearing fast. In this academy, asking questions will get you killed—but catching the attention of the Kings will make you theirs forever.

Status
25d ago
Chapters
6
Rating
n/a
Age Rating
18+

Chapter 1

The air in the grand ballroom was thick with sin and slick skin—a suffocating cocktail of raw musk, heavy cedar, and the metallic tang of pure, unbridled wolf heat.

Every surface was an uninhibited pile of bare flesh, dark velvet, and writhing bodies. The academy’s elite hierarchy were completely out of their minds, lost to the mid-semester feral cycle. They’d stripped away their clothes, their morality, and their pretenses, faces hidden behind ornate, filigreed lace masks. Filthy, shameless moans echoed off the vaulted ceilings, punctuated by the wet drag of skin, fingers digging into leather couches, and the guttural, possessive growls of males claiming temporary mates.

I pushed through the hazy crowd, my chest heaving, every nerve ending screaming under a sudden, unbearable friction. Omegas were forbidden from the Feral Gala—let alone feeling the dark, filthy pull dragging me straight into the epicenter of the madness.

Then the crowd parted.

He was standing against a grand marble pillar, towering over the chaos at a lethal six-foot-six. Broad, sun-darkened shoulders, a chest carved like fucking marble, and a black velvet mask covering the top half of his sharp, dominant face. His gaze locked onto mine, dark and absolute, slicing right through the heavy smoke.

He didn’t waste time with words. He closed the distance in two heavy strides, his massive hand wrapping around my waist to slam my hips flush against his chest.

Heat exploded straight into my blood.

The feeling of his hands on me was downright sinful. I shuddered violently against him, instantly helpless. His large, calloused hand slowly trailed up the sensitive side of my neck, his thumb pinning the fluttering pulse at my throat before dragging lower. The blistering heat of his palm burned through my skin as his fingers slid down the slope of my chest, gripping my breast with a firm, agonizing pressure that made my core throb and tighten instantly.

I didn’t care who was watching. My body was a complete traitor—any tiny shift of his hips would make me beg to give myself to him right here. I wanted him. I needed him now, in front of the entire goddamn academy.

He tilted my head back, leaning down to sink his lips against the exposed arch of my neck. His kiss was hot, bruising, and wildly possessive, his tongue swirling over the markable spot where my collarbone met my throat while his hand cupped me through my clothes, squeezing hard enough to shatter the last piece of my sanity.

Without breaking the kiss, he dropped onto a plush velvet couch, hauling me up to straddle his lap. My skirt hitched up around my waist, completely useless. I unravelled in absolute ecstasy as his fingers slid under the waistband of my lacy underwear, finding me drenched. The second his fingers entered me, my hips took over, rolling and grinding in an urgent, filthy rhythm against his hand.

I locked my fingers into his hair, arching my back as a loud, shameless, desperate moan ripped right out of my throat—

“Ah—!”

A sharp slam rattled my skull.

My eyes flew open. My hands jerked out, smashing directly into a heavy oak lecture desk and sending my notebook flying across the floor.

The scent of slick skin and cedar vanished, replaced instantly by the sterile smell of dry-erase markers, old paper, and floor wax.

Bright fluorescent lights burned my retinas.

I sat bolt upright, my chest heaving violently, my core still throbbing with a phantom heat that had absolutely nothing to do with a dream and everything to do with the fifty pairs of eyes currently staring at me.

To my right, a couple of Beta jocks were clutching their stomachs, muffling wheezing laughter behind their hands. Up in the third row, a group of pack heiresses were whispering behind their manicured nails, shooting me looks of pure disgust and amusement.

At the front of the auditorium, Professor Allen lowered his chalk, his eyebrows pulled down into a dark, unimpressed line over his rimless glasses.

“Glad to see Advanced Lycan History is so deeply stimulating for you, Miss Boykin,” he said dryly.

A collective wave of snickers echoed through the lecture hall.

I swallowed hard, my cheeks flushed bright scarlet, my hands trembling as I leaned down to pick up my fallen notebook.

What the actual fuck.

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