The Cursed Heir

First impressions

Hours later Lyra lay down in her bed. The girl’s dormitories were more vacant than the boys but still the school insisted that students should share bedrooms, bathrooms and a living area. Upon her arrival Lyra had refused to conform, claiming she would sooner sleep in her car than be forced to give up her privacy. The compromise had been that the attic of the building would be set up as her bedroom, complete with an ensuite bathroom.

She had never entered the kitchen nor the living space, preferring to be in solitude. Her guards were not allowed to enter the girl’s dormitories and so only here was she truly alone. The room barely looked lived in, despite her hardly leaving it besides meal times. Save for a picture of Jason at her bedside there was not one trace of Lyra in it.

A firm knocking at the door disturbed her as she lay in bed, staring upwards blankly. With a sigh, she sat up, smoothing her hair so that she would look more composed as was fitting of her station. She sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her ankles and straightening her posture.

“You may enter.” She spoke quietly, knowing she could whisper and still any werewolf would pick up on it.

A tall blonde girl, with an air which could only be described as pretentious, entered the room. She was stunning of course, most of the werewolves were so, but something about her demeanour struck Lyra as irritating. Upon entering the room, the girl studied the room hungrily. Her eyes finally settled on Lyra, scrutinising her.

“Do you speak at all, or are you here just to stare?” Lyra prompted, not bothering to waste her manners on the girl who stood analysing her rudely.

“Mr Emerson wants to see you.” The girl said with narrowed eyes, her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe expectantly.

“You may leave.” She waved her hand dismissively, almost smiling at the way the girl glared at her.

“He said now!” Lyra raised an eyebrow, challenging the girl.

“I don’t take orders, I will see Mr Emerson when I desire and not a moment sooner. But I’ll be sure to mention your lack of respect to him, perhaps even to my father.” The girls face dropped, a glint of fear in her eyes. The threat was empty of course, her father was not some fearsome dictator after all and even so Lyra had no intention of mentioning the interaction to him.

“I’m sorry I didn-” The girl started to say but Lyra had lost interest.

“Leave, this conversation has already wasted enough of my time.” She cut the girl off, watching her bow her head and shut the door.

It wasn’t ladylike, nor at all appropriate for her to treat her classmates so but Lyra couldn’t help herself. If there was one trait she had inherited from her mother it was a short temper. She did not want people to think her ill-mannered, or to believe that like her mother she thought she was above anyone. Still, she could not help it when she was in this constant state of fury. It felt as though a storm raged deep inside her, she struggled to keep it at bay which was all the more reason to remain in solitude.

She felt suffocated here, and the only thing that could make it better was Jason. As if losing him wasn’t bad enough, knowing that she had been the reason why he was gone was eating her up inside. He was always on her mind, always in her thoughts. The loss of him was driving her insane, alone all the time living in his memory.

Still, Lyra pondered what her father had said about sending her here for her own wellbeing. Perhaps he was right to think some distance would help her, and so she stood reluctantly to make her way to the headmaster’s office. Michael and Nathan had been situated outside the girls dormitory, and fell in step with her. As they walked through the grounds she couldn’t help but find the stares frustrating. She had thought that after the initial excitement her classmates would adjust to her presence. And perhaps they would have done so if she didn’t hide in her room all day, every day.

Once she stood outside Mr Emerson’s door she felt a magnetism from behind the doors so she knocked eagerly, wondering what he wanted.

“Come in.” He spoke quietly, but she heard him loud and clear. Michael opened the door for her, allowing her to enter before he and Nathan followed.

“Lady Lebonair, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Nicholas Laurent.” The blue eyed boy whom she had been earlier enthralled by stood by Mr Emerson’s seat and again she found her eyes locked on his.

She knew what was happening, could feel her wolf shifting inside her. She stood before her true mate, the other half to her soul. She forced her eyes to look to Mr Emerson, ignoring the whimper of her wolf as she broke eye contact.

“Nice to meet you. Mr Emerson what is it you needed my presence for?” She kept her tone flat, as though she had not felt the magnetic pull towards the boy.

“Nicholas believes you to be his mate.” She frowned, turning to look at him with a forced look of confusion.

“Jason Hart was my mate; you are mistaken.” She shrugged, averting her gaze once more.

“There is no mistake, you are my mate and I am yours.” He dismissed her words, almost as though he did not care that she outranked him, didn’t care that she would one day be his alpha.

“I think it best I leave; this conversation is becoming uncomfortable for me. I’m sorry for your confusion Mr Laurent.” She nodded towards him, allowing herself a moments eye contact with him before turning.

“You’re lying.” His voice was frustrated and yet calm, the tone deep and alluring. She turned to face him once more.

“Were I you, I would have some care before I said such a thing. My father would not like to hear that anyone has spoken to me such. Good evening to you both.” Her tone was icy, dangerous but her hazel eyes were blazing with fury.

Her guards followed her as she left, seemingly angry. Usually they were respectful of her privacy, but Michael was concerned about the events he had witnessed. They knew for a fact that Jason was not truly her mate, despite the intensity of the love that she bore him.

“My Lady, are you alright?” He asked, not prepared for the fiery response she would give.

“Why should I not be alright? He is mistaken, isn’t he Michael?” She was challenging him to disagree with her, something she knew he would not.

“Of course.” He bowed his head, the tone of her voice not to be reckoned with.