3 | Predatory Instincts
1203 Words
Darcy
"Move."
Ronan’s command is not directed at me. It’s directed at the sea of stunned students staring at us with their mouths open.
He doesn't wait for them to react. His fingers are still clamped around my jaw, burning my skin, but he shifts his grip. In one fluid motion, his hand slides down to my arm, his fingers digging into my bicep hard enough to bruise.
He yanks me forward.
"Ronan, wait!" I gasp, stumbling over my own feet. "You’re hurting me!"
He doesn't listen. He doesn't even look back. He just drags me toward the side exit of the Great Hall, treating me like a ragdoll. Like property.
"Clear the way!" Damon barks, shoving a sophomore so hard the boy flies into a row of chairs.
The crowd scrambles back in terror. No one intervenes. No one helps the Omega. The teachers watch in silence, too afraid of the Prime Heirs’ influence to stop them.
I catch a glimpse of the Headmaster’s pale face, but he turns away.
I am on my own.
We burst through the side doors into the dimly lit corridor. The air here is cooler, but the heat radiating from the four of them is suffocating.
"Where are you taking me?" I scream, trying to dig my heels into the floor.
It’s like trying to stop a freight train. Ronan is pure muscle and Alpha force.
"Quiet," Alastair says from behind. His voice is calm, but it has a jagged edge. "We need privacy. Unless you want the whole school to watch what happens next."
What happens next? The threat hangs in the air, heavy and ominous.
They march me down the hallway, past the trophy cases, toward the East Wing. The Elite Wing. Students aren't allowed here unless invited, and I have definitely not been invited.
Ronan stops in front of a heavy oak door—the Student Council Private Lounge. He kicks it open.
He swings me inside. I stumble, barely keeping my balance, and spin around just as the door slams shut.
Click.
The lock engages.
Silence descends again, but this time, it’s heavy with aggression. The room is small, intimate. Too small for four large, testosterone-fueled Alphas and one terrified Omega.
The scent is overwhelming. Pine. Leather. Gunpowder. Ice. It’s a cocktail designed to make my knees weak, to make my wolf submit. My inner wolf is whining, wanting to roll over and bare her neck to them.
No, I tell her fiercely. They are monsters. They hate us.
I back away until my legs hit a leather sofa. "Stay back," I warn, though my voice shakes. "If you touch me again, I swear to the Goddess—"
"You'll what?" Ronan cuts in. He loosens his tie, his chest heaving as he fights for control. "You’ll cry? You’ll beg? That’s all you know how to do, Allen."
"I am not your mate," I spit out, lying through my teeth. "This is a mistake. A glitch."
Amos is leaning against the door, blocking the only exit. He looks at me, his face pale. "The bond doesn't make mistakes, Darcy," he rumbles softly. It’s the first time he’s used my first name.
"It feels like a mistake," Alastair mutters, pacing the room like a caged animal. He runs a hand through his perfect hair, ruining it. "An Omega? And not just any Omega, but her? It defies all genetic logic. Our bloodlines are too strong."
"Stop talking," Damon growls.
Damon hasn’t moved since we entered. He’s been standing in the center of the room, vibrating with energy. His eyes are fixed on my neck.
He takes a step forward.
"Damon, don't," Alastair warns.
"I need to check," Damon says, his voice sounding wrecked. "I need to be sure."
He doesn't wait for permission. He lunges.
I scream, raising my hands to push him away, but he’s too fast. He catches my wrists in one hand and slams me back against the wall.
The impact knocks the breath out of me.
"Damon!" I cry out.
He doesn't hit me. He buries his face in the crook of my neck.
I freeze.
His nose drags along the sensitive skin just below my ear, inhaling deeply, noisily. He is huffing my scent like a starving man. His hot breath sends shockwaves of pleasure down my spine, warring with the absolute terror in my mind.
"F*ck," he groans against my skin, the vibration travelling through my body. "It’s real. She’s not faking it."
He presses his body flush against mine. I can feel everything. The hardness of his chest, the rapid beat of his heart... and the evidence of his arousal.
"Get off me!" I struggle, kicking at his shins.
He ignores my blows. He pulls back just an inch, his blue eyes wild and dilated. He looks like he’s high.
"You smell like a goddamn drug, Allen," he whispers, his voice rough with need. "Vanilla and fear. My favorite combination."
He licks his lips, his gaze dropping to my mouth. "I wonder if you taste as sweet as you smell."
"Damon, step back," Ronan orders. His voice is like a whip crack. "She is not a meal."
Damon growls, a low, guttural sound that is entirely wolf. "She’s ours, Ronan. We can do whatever we want with her."
"No!" I shout, finding my voice. "I am not yours! I am a person, not a toy!"
Damon laughs, a dark, humorless sound. He leans in again, his nose brushing mine.
"You were a toy before, sweetheart," he murmurs. "Now? Now you’re something else entirely."
"What am I?" I dare to ask, breathless.
Damon’s grin is sharp, predatory, and full of teeth.
"You're the prey that finally caught the hunters."
Ronan steps forward, grabbing Damon’s shoulder and ripping him off me. The loss of contact leaves me cold and shivering.
Ronan steps into the space Damon vacated. He doesn't touch me. He just looks at me with cold, calculating hatred.
"Damon is right about one thing," Ronan says icyly. "You are bound to us. But do not mistake this bond for affection, Darcy."
He leans in, his golden eyes piercing my soul.
"I will reject this bond," he vows. "I will break it, even if it kills me. I will not have a weak, pathetic Omega as my Luna."
My heart shatters. Not because I want him, but because the rejection from a fated mate causes physical pain. A sharp stab pierces my chest.
But then, something snaps inside me.
The pain turns into anger. Hot, molten rage.
I straighten my spine. I look up at the King of Blackwood Academy, and for the first time in four years, I don't look down.
"Try it," I challenge him, my voice surprisingly steady.
Ronan blinks, surprised by my defiance.
"Try to reject me, Ronan," I whisper. "But be careful. Because if you break the bond... you might just break yourself."
Ronan narrows his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak the words of rejection, to sever the tie between us.
He takes a breath. "I, Ronan Thornfield..."
But before he can finish the sentence, a wave of power slams into the room. Not from him.
From me.
- Writer
