The Wolf, the Demon, and Their Omega

Chapter Seven

MINA

I wake alone in an ocean of expensive sheets that smell like winter and fire and something darker.

The boys are already moving through Sasha's apartment like they've choreographed this morning after. I hear Kenji in the kitchen, smell coffee brewing. Water running in one of the other bathrooms—Adrian, based on the European pop playing softly. Sasha's voice carries from his study, speaking Russian into his phone. Lysander's probably making deals with lesser creatures to do his bidding.

The bites throb in time with my heartbeat. Four marks that feel like brands, even though my skin shows nothing. Perks of whatever genetics let me heal from things that should scar.

"You're awake."

Lysander materializes in the doorway. Already dressed in his Blood Moon uniform, looking like every dangerous fairy tale.

"We need to discuss the rules."

"Good morning to you too."

"Mornings are human constructs." He enters without invitation, settles in the chair across from the bed. "What matters is surviving what comes next."

Sasha appears behind him, phone call finished. The transformation from last night hits like cold water—gone is the boy who played piano while I curled against him. This is the Winter Prince, all sharp edges and calculated distance.

"Get dressed. We have twenty minutes before school."

A Blood Moon uniform waits on the bathroom counter. The pleated skirt barely legal, blazer tailored like it was sewn onto my body. Everything fits perfect.

"How did you—"

"We had your measurements the moment you walked into Blood Moon." Sasha leans against the doorframe. "Information is currency. We trade in it."

I dress quickly, trying not to think about them discussing my body like stock options. When I emerge, the four of them wait in the living room. The most dangerous boy band ever assembled.

"Rules." Lysander doesn't waste time. "At school, you're nothing to us but a fascinating anomaly. A puzzle we're solving."

"Charlotte knows better. She was at the party, saw everything."

"Charlotte Kingston sees what benefits Charlotte Kingston." Sasha's voice could freeze blood. "She'll play along because it serves her purposes. For now."

"And when it doesn't?"

"Then we handle her." Adrian examines his nails like they hold secrets. "Permanently if necessary."

The casual violence should disturb me. Instead, I think of my parents' bodies and feel nothing but agreement.

"What else?"

"The F4 doesn't share." Kenji sprawls on the couch, already looking more like himself than the others. "But we're sharing you. That makes you either incredibly special or incredibly disposable. Let everyone wonder which."

"Don't seek us out." Sasha counts off on fingers that played Chopin twelve hours ago. "Don't assume familiarity. Don't expect protection unless the threat is public and severe."

"So pretend last night never happened."

"Pretend last night was an anomaly." Lysander corrects. "A moment of interest that may or may not continue."

"And if the bonds—"

"The bonds are our secret." Adrian cuts me off. "No one else can feel them. No one else needs to know they exist."

I swallow arguments that taste like bile. They're right. I know they're right. But it still feels like swallowing glass.

"Fine. Any other rules?"

"Yes." Sasha moves closer, and for a second I think he'll touch me. He doesn't. "Trust no one. Not teachers, not students, not even us in public. Blood Moon runs on betrayal and blood. Give it neither."

The ride to school happens in silence. I'm squeezed between Kenji and Adrian in the back, trying not to feel how perfectly I fit there. How right this wrongness feels.

Blood Moon's parking lot empties when the BMW pulls in. Students scatter like roaches when lights flip on. The F4 effect—pure terror dressed in designer clothes.

They exit first. I wait, counting to thirty like Sasha instructed. By the time I follow, they're already holding court near the main entrance. The transformation is complete.

Sasha stands like winter personified, speaking to some vampire senior who bows actual degrees while talking. Adrian leans against the wall, looking bored enough to be comatose. Lysander makes two freshman witches cry just by existing near them.

Only Kenji seems unchanged. Still burning, still dangerous, but recognizably himself.

Our eyes meet across the courtyard. He winks, quick enough to be imagination.

At least one of them remembers I exist.

"Mina!"

Charlotte appears at my elbow, her court flanking her like designer-clad soldiers. Today's holding-court outfit probably costs more than cars.

"Charlotte."

"Walk with me." Not a request. "We need to discuss last night's festivities."

We move through Blood Moon's halls while she provides running commentary that sounds like gossip but feels like intelligence briefing.

"Jessica Marborne's already spreading word about you. Valuable omega, potentially worth millions, completely unclaimed."

"I'm not—"

"I know what you are. And more importantly, what you're not." She pauses by the trophy case, studying lacrosse championships like they matter. "I saw the whole performance last night. Four bites. Four bonds. Should have killed you, yet here you are."

"If you saw—"

"I see everything. That's my gift. Human eyes that pierce supernatural bullshit." Her smile could cut glass. "But I also see the necessity of discretion. The F4 playing cold serves everyone's purposes. For now."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I'll support the fiction as long as it benefits me. Cross me, and I'll burn your world down with truth."

Fair enough. I can work with honest threats.

The warning bell rings. Students flow around us, careful not to touch. Charlotte's power is different than supernatural strength but no less real.

"One more thing." She adjusts her Hermès bag. "Boys are going to come sniffing. Lots of them. Unmated omega pheromones drive supernatural males insane, and yours are... unique."

"I can handle myself."

"I'm counting on it. Would hate to see my new investment damaged."

She glides away, court following. I'm left processing the fact that Charlotte Kingston just claimed me as an investment.

Blood Moon politics make my head hurt.

First period. AP Literature. I take my assigned seat, trying to ignore how the bonds pull when the boys are scattered across campus. Trying harder to ignore the male attention suddenly laser-focused on me.

"Hey."

The wolf beside me leans closer. Beta from his scent, trying to smell like alpha. Built like a linebacker, probably thinks he's God's gift.

"You're the new girl."

"Stellar observation."

"I'm Chase. Captain of the lacrosse team."

"Fascinating."

He doesn't take the hint. Moves closer, broadcasting interest like pheromone cologne.

"So I was thinking, new girl needs someone to show her around. I could—"

"No."

"You didn't let me finish."

"Don't need to. The answer's still no."

"Playing hard to get?" He grins, all American boy confidence. "I like that."

I turn, give him my full attention. Let him see just a flash of what lives under my skin.

"I'm not playing anything. Go away before you get hurt."

Something in my voice makes him pull back. But teenage testosterone wins over self-preservation.

"You know, just because the F4 noticed you doesn't mean you're untouchable. They get bored fast. When they're done—"

The classroom door opens. Temperature drops ten degrees.

Sasha stands in the doorway, every inch the Winter Prince. He doesn't look at me. Doesn't acknowledge I exist. But his presence fills the room like ice water.

"Mr. Harrison." His voice could freeze hell. "You're in my seat."

Chase goes white. "This isn't your class."

"Every class is my class when I choose it to be." Sasha moves forward, and reality seems to bend around him. "Move. Now."

Chase scrambles away so fast he knocks over his desk. The teacher pretends not to notice. Everyone pretends not to notice. That's what you do when apex predators claim territory.

Sasha settles beside me, opens a notebook like this is normal. Like the Winter Prince regularly attends random junior literature classes.

"Interesting reading material?" He doesn't look at me, but I feel his attention like weight.

"Gatsby. So yes, lies dressed in pretty words."

"All the best lies are."

We don't speak for the rest of class. But his presence keeps the other males at bay. Message delivered—the F4's interest hasn't waned yet.

The pattern continues all day. Every class, some new boy tries his luck. Wolves, vampires, even a young demon who thinks fire trumps ice. And every time, one of the F4 appears. Not protecting—never that obvious. Just existing nearby, reminding everyone that I'm their current fascination.

By lunch, the whole school knows.

I find Charlotte's table, collapse into my designated spot. Her court watches me like I'm reality TV.

"Rough morning?"

"You people are exhausting."

"Not my people. I'm human, remember?" She slides her phone over. "But look at this."

Messages. Dozens of them. All variations on the same theme—how much for the omega? Is she for sale? What's her breeding potential?

My stomach turns.

"This is from three hours of interest?"

"Welcome to being valuable." Charlotte takes her phone back. "The Marborne family alone has bid seven figures."

"I'm not for sale."

"Everything's for sale at Blood Moon. Just depends on currency." She spears salad with surgical precision. "Speaking of which, here comes trouble."

Jessica Marborne approaches with her discount version of mean girls. All predator swagger and designer confidence.

"Scholarship."

"Jessica."

"Heard you're making friends fast." She stops just outside striking distance. Smart. "Chase Harrison says you threatened him."

"Chase Harrison doesn't understand 'no.' That's not my problem."

"It is when you damage potential allies." She leans on the table. "See, some of us think you're wasting an opportunity. Unmated omega, obviously valuable, limiting yourself to boys who'll never actually claim you."

"Your point?"

"My family wants to make an offer. Protection, comfort, even education—real education, not this supernatural finishing school bullshit. All you have to do is sign a simple contract."

I laugh. Can't help it. The sound makes her step back.

"A contract. For my freedom."

"For your potential." She pulls out actual paperwork. Because of course she carries omega contracts to lunch. "Read it. Consider it. The F4 won't protect you forever."

"No."

I don't touch the papers. Don't need to. Can smell the binding magic from here.

"They'll just destroy me themselves. At least then it'll be interesting."

She leaves the contract on the table. Charlotte immediately pours her vitamin water over it, destroying the magic with casual violence.

"Oops."

The rest of her court laughs. Even Evangelina's crow seems amused.

Across the cafeteria, I catch Kenji watching. He mouths something that might be 'good girl' or might be 'burn them all.' With him, both are equally possible.

Last class. AP Chemistry. I'm late thanks to another hallway proposition, this time from twin wolves who thought synchronized pheromones would work better.

The only open seat is between Kenji and some witch who takes one look at the fire demon and decides she needs to be literally anywhere else.

"Eventful day?"

"Your entire gender needs a biology lesson on consent."

"I'll add it to the curriculum." He slides his textbook between us. "Page 247."

I open to the page. Written in the margin: Pack room after school. Sasha's orders.

"Any particular reason?"

"You almost shifted three times today. We felt it." He turns pages like we're actually studying. "Plus, half the school's planning to follow you home. Better if home is somewhere with security."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know." His hand brushes mine reaching for a pencil. The contact burns in the best way. "But you shouldn't have to. Not alone."

The bell releases us into chaos. Students flood the halls, everyone watching to see where I'll go. Who I'll choose.

The F4 materialize around me. Not touching, but close enough to broadcast possession. We move through Blood Moon like what we are—apex predators who've claimed something precious.

"Volkswagen." Sasha murmurs as we exit. "Blue. Been here all day."

"Marborne surveillance." Adrian confirms. "Two more by the east gate."

"Sloppy." Lysander sounds offended by the amateur hour. "At least hire professionals."

"Or." Kenji grins. "We give them something to follow."

They exchange looks. Whole conversation in glances I'm starting to decode.

"Split up." Sasha decides. "Lysander, take the Audi. Make them think she's with you. Adrian—"

"Maserati to the blood bank. I know." He's already moving. "Kenji?"

"Bike to the fighting rings. Let them think she's slumming."

"And us?"

"BMW to the pack house." Sasha almost smiles. "After some creative routing."

They scatter. Three expensive cars peeling out in different directions, each potentially carrying Blood Moon's newest valuable commodity.

Sasha walks me to the BMW, opens the door with old-world courtesy that fits his aristocrat name.

"Seatbelt."

"I know how cars work."

"Humor me. I'd hate to damage you in a chase."

"You think they'll follow?"

"I'm counting on it."

He drives like his wolf runs—controlled violence waiting to explode. We take surface streets first, letting the Volkswagen think they're subtle.

Then he hits the freeway.

The BMW purrs to life. Zero to ninety in seconds that make my stomach drop. The bonds sing with his satisfaction as he weaves through traffic like it's standing still.

"Having fun?"

"Always." He takes an exit at the last second, tires screaming. "Hold on."

Three sharp turns. A parking garage. Up five levels, down three, out the back exit I didn't know existed. The Volkswagen's long gone, probably still circling level two.

"Impressive."

"I've had practice." His hands relax on the wheel. "My father's enemies started tailing me at twelve. You learn or you die."

"Cheerful childhood."

"Says the girl who found her parents murdered at fifteen."

Touché.

The pack house turns out to be a penthouse in the financial district. Because of course supernatural apex predators own real estate that touches the sky.

"How many safe houses do you have?"

"Enough." He parks in a private garage. "This one's special though. Warded by all four bloodlines. Even the building's supernatural—dragon bones in the foundation."

"That's morbid."

"That's protection."

The elevator requires blood, fingerprints, and something Sasha whispers in Russian. Paranoid much?

But when the doors open, I understand.

The penthouse spreads out like a supernatural sanctuary. Windows tinted against sun for Adrian. Temperature controls for Kenji's fire. Reality-bending architecture for Lysander. And somehow, impossibly, it smells like home.

"The others?"

"On their way. Had to make sure the tails believed their routes."

He guides me inside, and the bonds relax for the first time all day. Safe. Pack. Home.

"So." I collapse on a couch that probably isn't from IKEA. "This is our life now? Pretending we're nothing while everyone tries to buy me?"

"For now." He sits across from me, maintains that careful distance. "Until we're strong enough to tell them all to f**k off."

"When will that be?"

"When you learn what you really are." His eyes find mine. "What your father was. Why dragon magic screams when we try to look."

"And if we never find out?"

"Then we make our own answers." For just a second, his mask cracks. Shows the boy underneath who's tired of performing strength. "The four of us are already impossible. What's one more miracle?"

The elevator chimes. The others arrive together, probably coordinated their routes. The second they're inside, the masks drop.

Adrian pulls me against him, checking for damage. Kenji runs too hot, agitation bleeding through the bonds. Lysander makes reality hiccup twice before controlling it.

"Sixteen boys propositioned her." He says it flat. "I kept count."

"Seventeen." I correct. "You missed the freshman who thought poetry would work."

"Poetry?" Sasha's voice could start wars.

"Something about my eyes being like dark pools of mystery."

"I'll kill him." Kenji says it conversational. "What's his name?"

"No murder. Yet." I let myself sink into their protection. Just for now. Just until tomorrow when we play these games again. "But maybe some light maiming."

"I do excellent light maiming." Adrian shows fang. "It's an art form."

This is insane. All of it. The bonds that shouldn't exist. The games we're playing. The way I fit between them like I was carved from their negative space.

But when Kenji pulls me onto his lap, when Sasha's hand finds mine, when Adrian and Lysander bracket us like beautiful bookends—it also feels right.

"Tomorrow will be worse." Lysander states fact. "Once word spreads that we're still interested, the bidding wars begin."

"Let them bid." I bare teeth that want to be fangs. "I'm not for sale."

"No." Sasha agrees. "You're ours."

The word hangs between us. Claim and promise and threat all wrapped in four letters.