The Academy

Chapter 6

The day before the full moon at Blackwood Academy didn’t arrive with a bang; it arrived with a low-frequency hum that seemed to vibrate in the very stonework of the castle. It was the atmosphere of a pressure cooker nearing its limit. While the witches, sirens, and dhampirs went about their business with a heightened sense of alertness, the werewolf population had become a collective of walking landmines.

For the wolves, the "Haze" wasn't just a mood; it was a biological hijacking. As the lunar cycle neared its zenith, the human prefrontal cortex—the part of the brain that handled logic, restraint, and polite conversation—began to lose the war against the ancient, predatory limbic system.

Cole felt it more than most. As an Alpha of the Viking line, his connection to the moon was a heavy, iron chain pulling at his soul. He stood in the center of the training courtyard, stripped to his black uniform trousers, his bare chest slick with sweat despite the biting morning chill. He was mid-routine, his massive muscles bunching and rippling as he drove his fists into a heavy enchanted punching bag that was reinforced with lead and silver-mesh.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Every strike echoed through the courtyard like a gunshot. His golden eyes were blown out, the irises thin rings of molten light around pupils that refused to contract. He was agitated. He was ravenous. And he was leaking Alpha pheromones so thick that the younger wolves were actively avoiding the perimeter of the gym.

"You're going to burst the seams on that thing, Cole. The groundskeeper hates replacing those," a voice drawled.

Cole didn't stop. He threw a roundhouse kick that dented the bag's reinforced core. "Then the groundskeeper should buy better equipment."

Quinn Madison was leaning against a stone archway, his arms crossed over his chest. Even in the face of the Alpha’s pre-Full Moon aggression, the Dhampir looked bored. He was dressed in a pristine black button-down, his red eyes tracking Cole’s movements with a clinical, detached interest.

"The Haze is hitting you hard this month, isn't it?" Quinn remarked, his voice a smooth, irritating purr. "I can smell the testosterone from the parking lot. It’s a bit much, don’t you think? Very... primal."

Cole stopped, his chest heaving as he turned to face the Dhampir. He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of a bruised hand, his nostrils flaring. The scent of the Dhampir—stagnant blood and expensive cologne—usually just annoyed him. Today, it felt like an insult.

"You have a point, Madison? Or are you just here to admire the view?" Cole growled, the sound vibrating deep in his ribcage.

Quinn smirked, stepping into the light. "Just an observation. The pack is restless. Kingsley is currently in the common room making a freshman cry because her coffee was too hot, and you’re out here trying to murder a bag of sand. All because of the new girl."

Cole’s internal temperature spiked. The mention of Nyssa acted like a spark in a room full of gas. "Leave her out of this."

"Oh, I’d love to," Quinn said, tilting his head. "But she’s hard to ignore. She has a very... specific lure. Most people around here claim she smells like a funeral parlor—nothing but lilies and heavy silence. But to my kind, she’s different. She smells like delicious death and frost. It’s a powerful cocktail, Nicolai. I find myself drawn to whatever she is."

In a blur of motion that shouldn't have been possible for a human-shaped being, Cole was across the courtyard. He slammed Quinn against the stone pillar, his hand gripping the Dhampir’s throat. The stone behind Quinn’s head spider-webbed with the force of the impact.

"Stay. Away. From her," Cole hissed, his face inches from Quinn’s. His fangs were beginning to descend, the tips peeking over his bottom lip.

Quinn didn't struggle. He simply looked down at Cole’s hand, a dark, amused glint in his red eyes. "Touchy. The Haze really does turn you into a beast, doesn't it? Careful, Alpha. If you lose control before the moon actually rises, Croft will have you in silver chains before lunch."

Cole’s grip tightened, his knuckles white. The urge to shift, to let the Viking wolf tear the smug look off the Dhampir’s face, was a physical ache. But through the fog of his aggression, a scent drifted over the stone wall—lilies, mahogany, and frost.

Nyssa.

He released Quinn abruptly, stepping back.

Nyssa Knox was walking along the upper terrace, her black hoodie pulled up, her face a pale moon against the dark fabric. She wasn't looking at them. She was looking at the forest, her expression as flat and unreadable as ever. But Cole saw the way her fingers clutched the railing. He saw the way she paused when his Alpha scent hit her.

Quinn straightened his collar, unbothered by the near-death experience. "She’s a puzzle, isn't she? Good luck, Nicolai. I hear the frost bite is a b***h to heal."

Quinn vanished into the shadows of the hallway, leaving Cole standing in the center of the courtyard, staring up at the terrace.

Nyssa felt the weight of the golden gaze before she even reached the stairs.

The voices in her head had been a frantic, overlapping mess all morning. They were reacting to the school’s energy—the agitation of the werewolves was like a high-pitched frequency that set the dead on edge.

The moon is hungry, a hollow voice whispered.

Watch the teeth... watch the big black wolf...

He's looking at you, Nyssa...

"Shut up," she breathed, her voice barely a ghost of a sound.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and found herself face-to-face with Freddy. He was wearing his uniform, but he looked like he’d been through a blender. His hair was even wilder than usual, and he was chewing on his fingernails.

"Nyssa! Thank the gods," he gasped, grabbing her arm. "You have to stay away from the East Wing. The wolves are losing it. It’s the Haze. It’s like everyone with a knot in their tail decided to have a collective mental breakdown."

Nyssa looked at him, her purple eyes tracking a small scratch on his cheek. "Are you okay?"

"I'm a shifter, babe. I’m just sensitive to the vibes," Freddy said, shivering. "But seriously, be careful. The Alphas are the worst. They get... territorial. And possessive. And extremely horny. It’s a nightmare for everyone else."

"I noticed," Nyssa said, her mind flashing back to the library, to the way Cole had looked at her.

"Come on, we have Art History. At least we'll have some sirens and witches to balance out the crazy," Freddy said, pulling her toward the South Hall.

The Art History classroom was one of the few places where the races were allowed to mix. It was a large, airy room filled with easels, statues, and the smell of oil paint and turpentine. For Nyssa, it was usually a reprieve, but today, the room felt cramped.

She took her seat at the back, Freddy sitting beside her and immediately starting to doodle a very graphic caricature of Professor Croft.

As the class filled up, the tension followed. Then, the door opened, and the room went silent.

Cole walked in. He had put on his black button up, but it did nothing to hide the sheer mass of him. He looked like he was vibrating. He walked straight to the back of the room and sat directly behind Nyssa.

He sat down, the chair creaking under his weight. Nyssa felt the heat of him immediately—it was like sitting in front of an open furnace. The voices in her head, which had been a dull roar, suddenly went quiet. The silence was so sudden it was almost painful.

"Today," the teacher began, "we will be discussing the influence of the Northern Renaissance on the occult arts."

Nyssa tried to focus, but all she could feel was the person behind her. She could hear his breath—heavy, rhythmic, and ragged. She could smell the sweet tobacco and the masculine woodsmoke. Cole leaned forward, his presence enveloping her. He didn't speak, but his gaze was a physical weight on the back of her neck. He was watching her every move, his focus so narrow it felt as though the rest of the room had vanished for him.

Nyssa gripped her charcoal pencil, her knuckles white. She felt a surge of that strange, unwanted heat—the arousal she didn't have a name for. Her skin felt electric where his proximity touched her.

Beside her, Freddy was staring at them with wide eyes, his jaw practically on the floor. He leaned over, whispering urgently. "Nyssa, if you don't stop whatever... this is with the Alpha, I'm going to have to start charging admission for the drama."

Nyssa didn't answer. She spent the rest of the hour staring at a picture of a demon-infested landscape, feeling Cole's eyes burning into her.

When class was finally dismissed, Nyssa practically bolted for the door. She needed air. She headed toward the gardens, a sprawling area of enchanted flora that stayed in bloom year-round. She found a stone bench near a fountain carved in the shape of a weeping willow and sat down, her head in her hands.

"You can't run from it, you know."

Nyssa looked up. Kingsley Rivers was standing a few feet away, her arms crossed, her golden eyes flashing with a cold, territorial fire. She was wearing her uniform, but she’d tailored it to be skin-tight, her honey-brown hair flowing over her shoulders like a banner of war.

"Run from what?" Nyssa asked, her voice returning to its flat, dead state.

"The Haze," Kingsley said, stepping closer. Her voice was sharp, a jagged edge of jealousy hidden under a thin layer of superiority. "Cole is an Alpha. And right now, he’s in the Haze. He’s looking for a distraction, a place to dump all that extra aggression."

She stopped in front of Nyssa, looking down at her with a disgusted sneer. "You’re just a shiny new toy, Nyssa. You’re the weird, quiet girl who smells like a grave. He’s curious because you’re an anomaly. But don't think for a second that it means anything. He has a destiny. He has a pack. And he has me."

Nyssa stared at her, her amethyst eyes reflecting the sunlight. She felt the voices beneath the garden soil beginning to stir, sensing Kingsley’s anger.

She’s afraid, the voices whispered.

"I don't want your Alpha, Kingsley," Nyssa said.

"Liar," Kingsley hissed. She leaned down, her face inches from Nyssa’s. "I see the way you look at him. If you don't stay away from him, I’ll make sure your stay at Blackwood is very, very short."

Nyssa didn't flinch. She looked into Kingsley’s golden eyes and felt a sudden, cold surge of power. The water in the fountain behind them suddenly froze solid, the ice cracking with a loud, violent snap.

Kingsley jumped back, her eyes wide. "What was that?"

"Kingsley! Enough!"

Cole was standing at the edge of the garden, his expression thunderous. He walked toward them, his movements heavy and dangerous.

"Cole, she—" Kingsley started, her voice defensive, trying to regain her footing.

Cole didn't even let her finish. He stepped into her space, his golden eyes blazing with a terrifying, absolute authority. He didn't raise his hand, but he projected a wave of raw Alpha power that hit Kingsley like a physical blow.

"I said, enough," he growled.

Kingsley gasped, her knees buckling slightly as the sheer weight of his command forced her into an instinctual surrender. She whimpered, a low, submissive sound, and tilted her head to the side, exposing the line of her neck in a desperate display of obedience.

"Go back to the dorms," Cole commanded, his voice a low, vibrating snarl. "Now."

Kingsley didn't argue. She stayed low, backing away before turning and running toward the school, her pride shattered.

Cole stood in the center of the garden, his chest heaving. He looked at Nyssa, his golden eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and raw desire. He walked toward her, his posture less aggressive but no less intense.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"I'm fine," Nyssa said, standing up. "You should go with her."

"I don't want to," Cole said, stepping into her personal space. The silence returned, washing over Nyssa like a cool wave. Cole looked at her, his head tilted as if he were trying to hear something only she could provide.

"I feel this... strange pull to you, Nyssa," he murmured, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. He took another step, cornering her against the frozen fountain. The ice crackled behind her. "I don't understand it. I’ve never felt anything like it."

He moved closer, his 6'3" frame towering over her. "I feel this need to protect you. I feel this need to just... be near you."

He leaned down until he was inches from her face, his golden eyes fixed on her lips. His nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent—the lilies and the frost—and his pupils dilated until the gold was almost gone.

"I feel the need to..." his voice trailed off into a low, primal rumble. "I feel the need to taste you."

Nyssa’s heart stopped. She looked up into his eyes, her breath hitching, her own body betraying her with a surge of heat that made her lightheaded.

Just as his lips brushed against hers, the heavy, melodic chime of the school bell rang, shattering the moment.

Cole pulled back, his jaw tight, his breath coming in short, jagged gasps. He looked at her with an expression of pure, raw intent.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Nyssa Knox," he said.

He turned and walked away. Nyssa stood there, her heart racing, the cold of the frozen fountain a stark contrast to the fire in her blood.