TEACH ME ALPHA

LYRA’S POV

If humiliating a suitor in front of half the pack was a crime, then I guess I deserved exile.

My father didn’t call it that, of course. He called it “discipline.” Said I needed to “learn respect.”

So here I am, dumped at Frostfang, standing before the coldest fortress in the realm, waiting for the Alpha who’s supposed to fix me.

News flash: I’m not broken.

The gate creaks open, and two guards step aside. “Alpha’s inside,” one of them says before leaving me to my fate.

Inside, the mansion is too still. Too perfect. Stone walls, fur-lined chairs, a fireplace burning low. Everything smells like cedar and control.

I drop my small bag on the floor and look around, wondering what kind of man lives in a place like this.

“You’re late.”

The voice comes from behind me... deep, calm, threaded with command.

I turn.

Alpha Corin D’Rael stands by the doorway, tall and broad, his shoulders draped in thick black fur for the cold.

I force a smile. “I didn’t realize there was a curfew for exiles.”

One dark brow lifts. “There is now.”

The silence stretches, heavy and daring.

He steps closer, slow and deliberate. “You’ll speak when spoken to. You’ll follow my rules without question. You’re here to learn discipline, not test it.”

“Respect is earned, Alpha,” I say before I can stop myself.

He pauses. Just a fraction. Then glances over his shoulder, a look so steady it pins me in place.

“Then earn mine,” he replies, and walks away.

And now, my lessons begins.

__

A maid shows me to a room upstairs. It’s big, but not as big as the one back home. Still, it’s warm and clean.

I start changing into something more comfortable when the maid knocks again.

“The Lord Alpha wants you down in five minutes for dinner.”

“Lord Alpha, indeed,” I mutter. “Got it.”

She leaves.

I take my time anyway.

By the time I get downstairs, he’s already seated at the long table. His eyes lift as soon as I walk in.

“You’re late.”

“I’m a lady,” I say, walking over. “I needed to get dressed properly.”

He gives a short nod to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

I smirk. “Didn’t realize I was your pet.”

He doesn’t respond. Just watches me until I sit anyway.

Without all the fur, he looks different. There’s a scar running from his right brow to just below his eye. When he looks up, I look away quickly.

He speaks again, his voice steady. “Your act back home,humiliating a suitor in front of the council, was reckless. You embarrassed your family and your pack.”

“I embarrassed a man who couldn’t take no for an answer,” I shoot back.

“Enough,” he says sharply. “You’ll learn when to speak.”

He leans back. “There are rules here. No lateness for meals or training. Lights out when the bell rings. Hair tied up at all times. A uniform will be provided.”

I stare at him. “What the hell is this, a primming school for losers?”

“And most importantly,” he says, ignoring me, “no talking back. You speak when you’re asked to.”

Silence.

Then he adds, “And yes. You are a loser.”

That hits. My chair scrapes against the floor as I start to stand. “I’m not sitting here while you—”

“Break a rule,” he cuts in. “You get punished. Now sit your ass down.”

I hold his gaze, chest tight.

“Now,” he says again, calm but cold.

I sit.

The fire crackles between us, and I realize one thing...This man isn’t going to break easily.

And neither will I.

Dinner went by fast and silent. I was soon in my room, fuming. How dare he call me a loser?

I sat on the bed, staring at the walls. Everything about this place screamed order. No laughter. No warmth. Just rules.

When the bell rang somewhere in the distance, I frowned. That must’ve been the signal for lights out. I ignored it. I wasn’t tired, and even if I was, I wasn’t going to sleep just because he said so.

I changed into a nightshirt, paced the room a bit, and then decided I needed air. Maybe a walk would help. Or maybe I just wanted to break one of his precious rules.

I opened the door quietly and stepped into the hallway. The floor was cold under my feet. The mansion was silent, except for the crackle of a fire somewhere far off... Probably the guards warming up. I started down the stairs, trying not to make a sound.

“Going somewhere?”

The voice came from the shadows, behind me. It was deeper than earlier.

I froze. He stepped forward, tall as ever, He was wearing a linen shirt and pants now... He still had fur draped around his shoulders.

“What did I say about light out after the bell?”

I folded my arms. “What are you doing up, then?”

He didn’t answer. He just moved—fast. His hand caught my arm, pulling me back against the wall. My breath hitched. His body didn’t press into mine, but he was close enough for me to feel the heat through all that control.

“Let me go,” I snapped, trying to sound braver than I felt.

He leaned closer, voice low and even.

I saw the color of his eyes properly for the first time. It was stormy...grey or was it just blue with an icy tinge.

“Around here, Lyra, obedience isn’t about fear. It’s about control. And by the time I’m done, you’ll understand both.”

My pulse jumped. “You’re hurting me.”

His grip loosened at once. He stepped back, cold eyes unreadable.

“We start training at dawn,” he said quietly. “Don’t be late again.”

He turned, walking away. The air smelled of snow and cedar and him... whatever “him” smelled like.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he said without looking back.

“This is the last time I’ll ask nicely.”

I stood there, heart pounding, the silence swallowing me whole.