You Don’t Smell Like Prey
1117 Words
I didn’t sleep.
Not because I was scared.
But because I couldn’t shake his words.
“You don’t smell like prey.”“Maybe.” “You’re not what you think you are.”
What did he mean?
Was it just some twisted wolf mind game?
Or… was there something wrong with me?
I tossed off the scratchy blanket and sat up on the edge of the bed, staring at the moon through the dorm window. It was full tonight—huge and silver and heavy with meaning in this world.
And as I stared at it, the growl came again.
Inside me.
Stronger now.
Almost like… it wasn’t angry. Like it was waiting.
The morning was colder than it should have been.
I threw on my hoodie, tied my boots tight, and headed to my first class: Pack Structure & Hierarchy. The name alone made me want to gag.
As soon as I stepped into the lecture hall, whispers erupted.
“She’s the one the Alpha sat with…”
“She must’ve bewitched him…”
“Bet she’s gone by the Blood Moon.”
I ignored them all and chose a seat in the back.
The professor—a tall woman with graying hair and sharp amber eyes—paused when she saw me.
“You must be Layla Hart,” she said flatly. “The… human.”
I nodded, jaw tight. “That’s me.”
“I suppose you’ll need a basic education in how our world works.”
“I suppose I’ll catch up faster than you think.”
A few students chuckled. One guy in the front row snorted. He had dark brown skin, thick curls, and a cocky smirk that screamed "trouble."
“Bold,” he said. “I like her already.”
“Quiet, Jax,” the professor snapped.
He winked at me anyway.
Great. My first fan.
The class was a blur of ancient bloodlines, ranked pack systems, Alpha trials, Luna legacies… and veiled comments about how humans were “naturally weaker” and “evolutionary accidents.”
The professor never looked at me again.
Neither did most of the class.
But I could feel their stares, always just on the edge of my vision.
By the time the lecture ended, my jaw ached from how hard I’d been clenching it.
Jax caught up with me in the hall. “Hey, don’t let them get to you. They’re just salty because the big bad Alpha looked at you like you hung the moon.”
“He didn’t look at me like that,” I muttered.
He raised a brow. “You sure? Kade doesn’t look at anyone. Period.”
I paused. “You know him?”
“Everyone knows him. Kade Thorn is basically the next king of the Northern Territories. He was born a weapon.”
“And you?”
He grinned. “I’m just the comic relief.”
Lunch was worse than yesterday.
When I stepped into the dining hall, conversations halted again. But this time, Kade wasn’t there.
Neither was his chair.
A sign hung on the head table: Reserved.
Cute.
I sat alone.
Again.
This time, no one threw juice, but the stares were just as sharp. And I knew exactly what they were thinking.
Why is she here?
What is she?
And honestly?
I was wondering the same.
Combat class was next.
And that’s where things went from bad to worse.
The instructor—a lean man with tattoos and a leather jacket—lined us up in pairs.
When he got to me, he frowned.
“You can’t fight.”
“You don’t know that,” I replied.
“You’re human.”
“I’ve fought my whole life.”
He studied me for a long second. Then smirked. “Fine. Let’s see how long you last.”
He paired me with Savannah.
Of course.
She smirked as she stepped forward, stretching her arms and cracking her neck.
“This won’t take long,” she purred.
“I was about to say the same,” I replied.
The class circled us.
“Begin,” the instructor barked.
She lunged fast.
I barely dodged.
She moved like a blur, claws out, teeth bared.
I ducked, twisted, and managed to kick her leg out from under her. She fell—hard.
Gasps.
But she bounced back fast.
Too fast.
She punched me across the face before I could move.
Pain exploded in my cheek.
She went in for another strike—claws aimed for my throat.
Something inside me screamed.
My hand shot up.
And—
A blast of heat pulsed from my palm.
Savannah flew backward like she’d been punched by lightning.
She crashed into the wall, groaning.
Silence.
Everyone stared at me.
Even the instructor looked shaken.
“What the hell was that?” he murmured.
I stared at my hand.
My skin still glowed faintly, like heat lightning beneath the surface.
I didn’t answer.
Because I had no idea.
Later that evening, a note was slipped under my door.
Come to the rooftop. Now. —K.T.
I hesitated.
But curiosity—and something deeper—dragged me upstairs.
The rooftop was cold, silent, bathed in moonlight.
Kade stood at the edge, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the forest below.
“You sent the note?” I asked.
He turned slowly.
“Tell me what happened in combat class.”
“You heard?”
“I hear everything.”
I folded my arms. “She came at me. I defended myself.”
“You knocked her across the room with something that wasn’t human.”
I didn’t speak.
He walked toward me—slow, steady, unreadable.
When he stopped in front of me, his voice dropped.
“You’re not just a girl from nowhere, Layla. You came here for a reason.”
“I didn’t ask to come here.”
“No,” he said softly. “But something… or someone… brought you.”
The wind stirred my hair.
“I don’t know what I am,” I whispered. “But I’m not leaving.”
He studied me for a long, aching moment.
Then he stepped closer.
“You smell like rain,” he murmured. “Like earth before a storm.”
My heart stuttered.
“That’s… weirdly poetic for a cold Alpha.”
His lips twitched—almost a smile.
Almost.
Then he leaned down, so close I could feel the heat from his skin.
And whispered, “If you’re not prey… you better figure out what you are before someone else does.”
Then he walked away.
Leaving me alone with the moon.
And the burning in my blood.
- Writer
