The Cost of an Alpha's Protection

Adrianna glances at the school’s clock before sighing. Brushing her hair behind her ears, she slams her locker shut before colliding with one of the worst things this place has to offer. Her books, papers and scrolls scatter across the hall, peppering the walkway with lessons she has long tucked away in the recesses of her subconscious. Dropping to the floor, she scrambles to gather them all, ignoring the whistles and jeers. It’s the passing time before last period, and she can’t afford to be anywhere but in the here and now. Students from all walks of folklore are an ever present facet of this strange school. More present than the sharp sting from the marble floor’s pebble accents digging in her knees; or the week-old scent of dragon’s secrete someone snuck in her shampoo. If it’s hard to ignore the common while uncommon, it’s downright impossible to overlook any deviation when you are the standard. Especially when you are at the top of the social totem pole, as well as the food chain. Before, way back when, Adrianna knew and accepted that hard fact. Acceptance makes things easier; easier fading into the background, easier to be forgotten. Except in this moment, between being spirited away from her family to this realm, a Changeling boy having just stepped on Mr. Faust’s term paper and Rayna of Pack Moonguard sneering down at her acceptance seems only good at leaving her trapped. Adrianna stands with a grimace, eyes in the general direction of Rayna’s torso, careful not to let Rayna or her two pack mates, Elena and Lynn, see the irritation in her face, lest they misconstrue it as a challenge. She didn’t need another incident. In Rayna’s perfectly manicured hand is the tan tapestry from today’s Art class on familial history. Earlier, down in the castle dungeon’s art room while giving her presentation under the candle lit room hosting her classmates' undivided attention, their smile was wide and genuine. Right now, she looks genuinely ready to peel Adrianna’s skin off. Rayna, with her long brown hair, freckles, and golden eyes, is every Lycan male’s dream mate. Her pack is one of three descended from greatness, making them some big bad Lycan Triumvirate, or something. The three most powerful packs ever, though the others aren’t to be underestimated by any means. Human means, anyway. As you can imagine, with that kind of lineage, wars for marriage rights are common. Not that mates and males matter right now anyway. Being only seventeen and two years from Saturnalia, Rayna’s too young to outright claim a mate. Though that doesn’t stop prospective mates from trying, and to try is to feed the already inflated ego of one of the most successful predators humanity was damned to share a physical plain with. “Watch it, Ribeye.” Adrianna bites back a smart remark. Without thinking, she lifts her head, Rayna and her eye to eye, letting out a, “Sorry, Rayna.” All noise dies. Before she could blink, could recognize her faux-pas, there’s a gust of chilled wind, and she hears a bang as she jumps back into her locker, Rayna’s arm blocking Adrianna's right side as Rayna leans forward. “What?” Released from her lips’ sheath, Rayna’s canine teeth are sharp. Sharp, white, and itching for blood. A loud rip rings out. Glancing down at Rayna’s hand, Adrianna’s mouth dries up. Claws. Right through her own damn tapestry. The bell rings. No one moves. Adrianna’s eyes dart to her side, over Rayna’s right shoulder, blocking her vision and past Elena and Lynn, who are poised to pounce. What she sees makes her stomach drop. Everybody is staring at the scene they’ve made, with the hall’s earlier hoots and screeches long forgotten. Within every pair of eyeballs, humanlike or otherwise, there’s something there. Pity? Disgust? No. . . . Delight. This is just a game to them. Just a way to pass the time and see everyone’s favorite thing to hate–a human–get put in their place. Preferably with much c*****e about. Adrianna's cheeks burn. Dropping her head down in the Lycan gesture of submission, she held her books tighter and stared at her worn Mary Janes. They won’t be getting a show. Not again. “I’m sorry, Rhea Rayna.” The bell rings again. Some move on to the next class, losing interest at her acquiescence, though not surprised. She’s human, after all. Most mill about, hoping for a slap, if not a mauling. “That’s what I thought.” Rayna leans back into place and tilts her head at her girls, her bitches being the proper parlance, before motioning in the direction they were headed. The sea of students part, watching the pack girls as their skirts flutter in the wind, and Adrianna could breathe, just a little, before all eyes zero back at her. It was another day at Grimelda’s School for the Otherworldly Gifted, and she was tired. So, so tired.