1. Casandra
The sea mist settles against my skin like a silken veil. It is a far cry from the dry heat of Romanian summers or the sharp, biting winds of Swedish winters.
Blackmere Isle sits thirty miles out in the Irish Sea. To humans, it’s a privately owned educational estate. To us, it’s home to Blackmere Academy—the most prestigious institution in the supernatural world.
“I still can’t believe you got the penthouse in the West Wing and they actually let me stay with you,” Ilinca whispers as we walk across the manicured grounds of the academy. She looks small against the massive gothic backdrop of the school, her short, tiny frame practically swallowed by the scenery while her light brown waves catch the damp mist.She adjusts the strap of her bag, her knuckles white. I know why she is tense. It isn’t just the move, it’s the fragile piece of her past we are currently hiding in our new home.
“I’m just glad my parents’ support actually buys something useful for once,” I say softly, nudging her shoulder to ease the tension. “The Headmaster knows I value my privacy, and if a few extra donations keep him from asking questions about our living arrangements, then it’s worth it. You’re safe here, Ili. That’s all that matters.”
“I just hope…” Ilinca trails off, her voice thick with anxiety. “What if I find him here, Cassie? My mate? What if he smells... ? No Alpha is going to accept a wolf with my.. complication.”
“You seem so sure your mate will be an alpha. Could be an omega.” I tease her, knowing that’s just about as likely as a fated male calmly respecting personal space.
Ilinca just rolls her eyes and says, “That would probably be easier.”
I grab her hand, squeezing tight. “If he won’t accept your.. complication, then he’s not your mate. He’s just a dog with a title. You’re a noble-born wolf, Ilinca. You don’t bow to anyone.”
She gives me a tired smile, but the tension doesn’t leave her shoulders as we push through the heavy wooden doors of the dining hall. Any expectations of a grand banquet hall evaporate instantly. The space is essentially a glorified cafeteria, packed with tables of varying sizes and a buffet-style serving area where students queue for breakfast.
A scent cuts through the crowded room, slicing through the smell of sweaty werewolves. It’s warm, yeasty, and coated in caramelized pearl sugar. Kanelbullar. My heart does a painful, erratic dance. It is the smell of my favorite bakery in Sweden. I look toward the serving line, expecting a tray of Swedish cinnamon buns, but my eyes don’t stop there.
There they are. The future leaders of werewolves.
In the center sits Nikolai. Born and raised in Norway, he is the Crown Prince and heir of the Alpha King. Grouped around him is his Beta, Magnus, and the coming Wolf Council. Right now, their fathers hold the seats and rule over the wolves, but these boys are the shadows waiting in line, poised to take over the moment their fathers deem them ready. There is Lukas, the pristine heir from Sweden; Elias, the quietly lethal one from Finland; and Aiden, the wildcard from the States who sticks out among the rigid European royalty like a sore thumb.
Together, they represent the absolute peak of werewolf nobility. While I don’t personally know any of them yet, I know all about them. My parents made sure I studied them, their packs, the council, their roles in the council.
The only thing missing from this perfect, intimidating picture of power is Adrian, the only future council member I actually know on a personal level. The heir from Romania famously gave his family the ultimate middle finger by refusing to attend Blackmere Academy altogether, leaving a very noticeable, chaotic gap in their royal circle.
Suddenly, Nikolai stands up.
The screech of his chair against the floor is like a starting pistol, silencing the room in a heartbeat. He rises like a storm, his massive frame blotting out the light from the high windows. His nostrils flare, and as his head snaps in my direction, I see his eyes bleed from a stormy blue into a predatory, molten gold.
“MATE!”
The word is ripped from his throat, a primal, earth-shaking growl that vibrates through the soles of my shoes and settles deep in my marrow.
I stand frozen. Mate? That’s not possible. We don’t have mates. We have blood-bonds and political matches, but we aren’t tethered by the Moon Goddess like the wolves are. Or so I’ve learned. But as that cinnamon scent hits me again, an invisible thread snaps taut in my chest, dragging my gaze toward the center of the hall.
The pull is undeniable—a magnetic, soul-deep recognition. For a heartbeat, I look into his eyes and see the alliance secured, a passion I never dared to dream of, and the end of my loneliness.
Before I can even draw a breath, he is moving. He is a blur of lethal grace, a mountain of muscle and heat closing the distance between us in seconds. As he gets closer, the scent of cinnamon buns explodes, intensifying until it is all I can taste. It isn’t just a faint memory of a bakery anymore; it’s the smell of warm yeast, the bite of spicy cinnamon, and the cloying, addictive sweetness of melted pearl sugar. It’s intoxicating. It’s him.
He skids to a halt just inches from me, and the sheer heat radiating off his body makes the cool air of the hall vanish. He is beautiful in a way that feels dangerous. His hair is a messy crown of dark chestnut, and his features are carved with a rugged, royal precision. Up close, I can see the pulse thrumming in his neck, and for a wild, delirious second, I want to lean into that warmth. I want to see if his skin tastes as sweet as he smells.
My soul reaches out, a silent cry of yes, as the invisible thread between us tightens until it burns.
But the moment his eyes rake over my pale skin, the warmth dies.
His pupils contract. The longing in his expression fades. He leans in, his nose brushing the air near my neck, and I see his chest heave as he takes a deep, jagged inhale.
Then, his lip curls back, revealing white, lethal fangs, and the previously sweet scent suddenly turns bitter.
“A vampire?” his voice hisses, a low, venomous sound that carries to every corner of the silent hall. “My mate is a fucking vampire?”
The rejection hits me like a physical blow.
“No. Absolutely not,” he spats. “Fuck. This.”
Without another word, he turns his back on me and storms out of the hall.
The silence that follows is deafening. I feel the heat crawl up my neck, a stinging shame as the mocking whispers begin. Lukas, the Swedish heir, stays behind for a heartbeat, his intense gaze lingering on me with a strange, unreadable hunger before he turns to follow his Prince.
“Cassie…” Ilinca starts, her voice trembling.
But she doesn’t finish. Because Magnus, Nikolai’s Beta, is suddenly standing in front of her. His eyes are blown wide, his hands shaking as he reaches for her.
“Mate,” he whispers.
“No,” Ilinca chokes out, her face turning ghostly pale. “No, no, no!”
She immediately turns and bolts, her footsteps echoing like hammer blows against the silence of the hall. Magnus makes a move to follow, but he stops, his gaze snapping to mine.
For a fleeting second, the world around us fades. Magnus looks at me, and in his eyes, I see a reflection of my own devastation. It is a look of dual pity; he is mourning the mate he has just lost to terror, and I am mourning the one who has just looked at me with pure loathing. We are both standing in the wreckage of a destiny that should have been a beginning, but feels like an end.
Then he blinks, the pity hardening into a mask of duty, and he turns to chase after his own shattered heart.
I am left alone in the center of the room, the target of every mocking stare in the building. I can feel the heat of their judgment, the jagged edges of their laughter.
I stand tall, my blood freezing into a hard, protective sheet of ice. If the Prince wants to ignore the debt his family owes mine, if he wants to treat me like trash... I will show him that some monsters are born to rule, not to be loved.
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Author's note:
Hey everyone,
Thank you so much for giving this story a shot. This is my first time writing fantasy and it has been a challenge, to say the least. I'm sure I made a ton of mistakes, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
Please comment, react and review - it means the world to me. And if you'd like to stay up to date with my work, please follow my page ❤️
Hugs!
-Bee
