Marked By Her.
1282 Words
~ Ezra’s POV.
I needed to get out of here. I had an afternoon class to attend. All he does is piss me off. Why should I stick around and continue to listen to the nonsense he throws out of his mouth? He is my father and so what? Don't I have a life of my own? He always likes to boss everyone around but not himself.
It's been years, and I wonder what my mom still sees in him. She could just kick him out of the pack and take over the entire clan.
He should f**k off.
I slid into the taxi as if I had nothing but time. Told the driver where to go and sank into the seat. He kept sneaking glances at me through the rearview mirror, like he was trying to figure out who I was.
I stared right back at him. For a second, I wanted to bare my fangs and growl just to see him lose it. My fingers twitched with the urge to grab his wrinkled neck, just for fun. He’d probably pass out cold.
He glanced away. Smart move.
God, my hands are itching. I need to hit something. Hard. I want to break a face, watch someone hit the ground and stay there. It’s all thanks to the old man I ran into this morning—the one who still has the guts to call himself my father.
He pisses me off more than anything.
I leaned back and stared out the window, watching the city smear in streaks of color. My college wasn’t far. Hopefully, I’ll make it on time. I checked my watch, half-past twelve. Of course. Afternoon class, and I’m still running late.
Figures.
When we finally pulled up to the gate, I stepped out, after sliding my card across the machine, and shut the taxi door behind me. The security guards didn’t even ask for my ID. They just nodded and let me through.
Most people don’t know it, but my father owns this place. Guess that comes with perks.
I strolled across the college grounds, ignoring the stares. Some students stopped in their tracks.
Others pretended not to look, which was worse, honestly.
The constant stares get exhausting. Every damn day, people act like I’m some god walking among mortals. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I’m not. I hate the attention. This is exactly why I can’t stand crowded places.
“That’s Ezra, right?”
“Is he back already?”
“Damn… he looks even better in person.”
Better in person? Seriously? I show up at this place almost every day. Do they realize I can hear every word?
“Why is he walking like that?”
“He’s confident. He knows he’s hot.”
Girls nudged each other, whispering and giggling. Some guys just glared. A few nodded at me with that mix of respect and jealousy, like I’d already won something they were still chasing. Imagine their faces when they find out that the man who owns this entire college is my father.
I just hope they don’t.
Someone actually dropped a coffee when I passed.
“Ezra…” one girl whispered, like she couldn’t believe I was real. I didn’t look at her, but she clutched her books like I’d just ruined her whole week. Obviously, this is insane. Why is everybody so annoying today?
I walked into the lecture hall and stepped into my classroom. Heads turned the second the door creaked open. A few gasped. Some eyes went wide. One girl even dropped her pen.
The professor froze mid-sentence and stared at me like I’d just walked out of a movie scene.
“Ezra,” she said, trying to sound strict, though her voice shook a little. “You’re late.”
I gave her a slow, lazy smile. “Traffic,” I said, even though we both knew I was lying. A few students laughed under their breath.
I strolled down the aisle, taking my time. I found my usual seat in the back by the window and sat down, one arm resting on the chair beside me.
Eyes half-closed.
The professor tried to get back on track, but no one was paying attention. They kept sneaking glances at me, whispering behind their hands, and scrolling through their phones. One girl even turned all the way around in her seat, staring at me like she forgot where she was.
“Silence,” the professor snapped. The classroom went quiet.
Class ended.
I grabbed my notebook from my table and stood up. As I headed for the door, I bumped into this girl, who I’ve noticed has been staring at me the whole time.
But there’s something strange about her I don’t get. I know people stare at me all the time, but hers felt drawn.
Familiar.
That old man got millions of enemies from different clans. So, I’m not surprised if I get targeted as well. After all, I’m Gifford Obsidian’s son.
She flinched when our eyes met and took a few steps away from me. Yet, she wouldn’t stop staring at me.
For a moment, neither of us moved. I raised an eyebrow at her. “Can I help you?”
She had a messy hair bun on, an oversized sweater, white sneakers. A pair of glasses.
An average girl who smells like an omega and has the scent of rain and old books. That’s quite odd.
I tilted my head, waiting. “Didn’t you hear what I said? You are blocking my path.”
She was almost blocking my way. That was quite visible.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She stepped aside so I could move. Rolled my eyes and brushed past her. I felt a fierce burn. I jerked in fright, touched my left arm and looked back at her. I looked at my arm again. There was nothing there.
We both felt it. Her eyes widened. She held the same spot our arms crossed. Her gaze trembled, shaking her head.
She took a few steps back and ran away. I caught a whiff of her scent once more.
I froze. That… can’t be right. A black wolf...?
What!
On this college campus? That makes little sense.
She’s a pureblood?
What the hell is a pureblood doing here?
“Hey, Ezra.”
I heard Monica running towards me, along with my other best friend, Fred.
“I’ve been looking for ya, all over the place.” Monica put her hands on her knees as she panted.
“What’s up, dude?” Fred and I shook hands. “I’m good.” I responded.
“My stomach hurts.” She whines.
“That’s because you ate so much.” Fred reminded her as he fixed his eyeglasses.
“Don’t remind me.” She stood up straight and stretched her back. “I can’t believe just a brief run wore me out.”
“That’s for eating so much.” I raised an eyebrow. “You are gonna get fat if you keep eating like this.”
“Whayever.” She flung her long hair backwards and folded her arms across her chest. “So, what’s up? What were you staring at while I was calling you? You look zoned out. Did anything happen?”
Monica Hernandez is an alpha. She stands at about 5’7”, with a lean, well-proportioned figure—slim, but with curves in all the right places. Her skin is smooth and pale, almost porcelain-like, and on her left hand is a small lotus flower tattoo.
She wore wine-colored leggings and a fitted black singlet that hugged her torso.
- Writer
