Accidentally Bitten by The Alpha

Chapter 4

What is it with the people around here and smell? Last night Zane said something weird about my “scent.” And then Jake turned his nose up at me because of “smelling” like Zane’s w***e. And now this random stranger is commenting on it. WTF?

“Um…I’m new,” I reply weakly. “I’m transferring here today…I hope.” Not wanting to sound too clueless I add with a smile, “Can you point me towards the registrar’s office?”

Thankfully the school is small enough that most of the administrative offices are on the ground floor of this main building. Because of the sudden hurricane, many of the employees are trapped waiting for the storm to pass, which means I am able to find someone still typing away when I reach registration.

“So you want to transfer in,” a harsh-faced woman with long curly black hair sneers down her nose at me. “You look Seaglass, but smell Marshwood,” the registrar surmises, tilting her head to the side. “You aren’t one of those Seaglass pups are you?”

“Pup?” I shake my head, confused. Maybe it’s a term of endearment used by the people around here. Like a seal pup? “I’m not a pup, I’m just a transfer student.”

“Transfer student,” she repeats slowly, making sure she understands. “From off the island?”

The way asks her last question makes it sound like being from off the island is like being from another planet.

“Yes,” I inform her, doing my best to keep my tone light and my expression happy. “I’ve only been here two weeks. Now I’m stuck until Spring,” I sigh as I explain my situation. “My advisor said I could transfer here, to this college, at least for the year.”

As I finish telling her what I need, the woman behind the counter continues to stare, her expression flat as she observes me carefully, her eyes flicking over to the red writing on my box that is now dripping red paint onto the otherwise clean tile floor. It looks like a murder scene the way the foul words are melting off the box to pool beneath it in a red puddle of painted gore. Seeing the way her lip curls at the mess, I wish I could curl up and die in a corner.

This is so embarrassing. I had a bad feeling about this trip, but instead of listening to my gut, I wanted to make Jake happy, so I came along. Now I’m stuck in an impossible situation.

Dripping wet and nervous, my body shakes with more than cold as the older woman continues to glare, as if daring me to say anything else that might irritate her. She looks ready to throw me out of here.

“I’m sorry,” she frowns, sounding anything but sorry, “There is nothing I can do for you. Not today. Come back after the storm.”

“Please,” I beg, “I wouldn’t bother you except if I don’t sign up for classes now I’ll lose my financial aid for the year and I need that money.” Moving my hand off the irritated bite on my neck, I wrap my arms around my waist for comfort.

“Can I see your ID, Sweetie,” she smiles kindly, her eyes wandering from my face to my bite, as if a moment before she hadn’t been staring at me like gum she found on the bottom of her shoe. As I lean forward, she inhales deeply. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but as our gazes lock, her eyes flash gold and her entire expression changes from one of doubt and barely masked disdain to one of curiosity.

“I’m sorry for the confusion,” she bows her head. “I didn’t recognize you before. You need to forgive an old Delta like me. Sometimes my eyesight isn’t what it should be.”

Now that she’s convinced I belong here, she holds out her hand as she asks for my id, my college number, and the name and email address of my mentor. She is almost like a whole new person, the way she’s flipping through files and doing her best to accommodate me. A few messages and phone calls later, I am signed up for the classes I need for fall.

Asking me to stand against the white wall across from her desk, the woman, who introduces herself as Martha Sharptooth, snaps a quick photo. Within minutes prints a school ID card and hands it to me with a grimace. My picture looks like a mugshot with the dark circles under my eyes, my cheeks sallow from lack of sleep the night before. “Felicity Dawson,” it reads “Senior at Artemisia University.”

“Your financial aid will be deposited in your account as soon as your registration clears,” Martha apologizes. “I’m sorry, but there are no dorms available at the moment. We’re full but here,” she hands me a bright orange piece of paper. “This should help you find lodging in town once the storm clears. Both of the major resorts honor that voucher from the college. Although I’m sure you’ll be staying at Windswept Cove.”

Windswept Cove is one of the two main resorts on Artemisia Island. The other one, Summer Sky, is owned by my ex-boyfriend’s family. How she would know my preference to stay as far away from Jake as possible is a mystery to me. Maybe I don’t look fancy enough to stay at Summer Sky Resort and Spa.

Looking down at myself, I realize that’s probably it. In my borrowed clothing smelling like s*x and yesterday’s beach, I probably don’t look like the kind of person to stay at such a classy resort.

“Is there someplace I can change?” I ask, looking sadly at my soggy clothing in the box. “And maybe take a shower or wash some laundry?”

Martha pulls out a highlighter and begins making a trail on a nearby map, which she hands to me gently. “You are here,” she circles a room on the map chart. “You need to go here,” she makes another circle around a larger rectangle on the map. arrows towards the gym. Those facilities have everything you’re looking for, and it’s free for students.”

The path leading to the gym is easy to follow. Thankfully, this building is connected to most of the others through covered hallways, and I’m able to make it to the gym without getting drenched again in the downpour.

As I pass down the long, dimly lit hall, I gaze out the windows at the storm beyond. The wind has picked up, bits of debris floating past as the dark clouds block what was left of the sun. Other than the clouds, nothing else is moving, the world forced to a stand-still as the hurricane slowly builds, leaving us hunkered down in makeshift shelters. I guess I should be grateful that I made it to the university before it became unsafe to walk outside. With the nonsense Jake pulled on me with my ticket home, I could have been stuck in that boat depot, or even worse, locked out and stuck on the beach.

Turning away, something catches my eye. Pausing, I twist my head towards the view.

Squinting, I notice several small figures, hardly more than little black dots, moving along the horizon. One of the individuals tilts their head skyward and I realize it isn’t people I’m watching but a pack of canines, their eyes shining in the dim light.

“Wolves,” a voice in the back of my mind speaks. “A pack of wolves.”

Nonsense. This island is too far away from the mainland to have wolves. How would they have gotten here? Is there even enough prey on an island of this size to support that many apex predators?

“My imagination is just getting the best of me,” I scoff, shaking my head and closing my eyes. The wind whistling through the trees around campus almost sounds like wolves howling in the wind, and I’m immediately reminded of my strange dream and how wolves chased me through the dark, moonlit forest.

I try not to think of my growing unease as I wash my clothing, sticky and wet from the storm. I ignore my overwhelming feeling of dread as I take a shower, scrubbing off the remains of the night before. The only thing that won’t wash away is the bite on my neck, which is now bright red with lines radiating outward and warm to the touch.

Great, I have an infection. Just what I needed on top of everything else.

What else could go wrong today, Universe? I mean, come on, seriously, just give me a break.

Throwing on some clothing, I find a locker with a key that I use to stowaway the rest of what remains of my life. Dusting off my hands, I get up and head towards the main gymnasium where the sound of voices makes me hopeful that maybe I can find something to eat if I ask the people gathered to watch what sounds like basketball.

Turning the corner, I pause, surprised at what I found.

Moving within a small group of other young men with very similar builds, is my one-night-stand, Zane Rivers. Moving with the grace and ease of a professional, he weaves around the other players, his muscles glistening with sweat as he dribbles the basketball, setting things up for a big shot. As I watch, Zane jumps to dunk a perfect 3-point shot.

Wow. He’s incredible. Too bad he’s also a bit of a jerk.

As the others gathered start to cheer, a beautiful redheaded girl with bright blue eyes and a model’s figure, jumps up and down from the stands. Racing out to the court, she kisses Zane and he holds her close, resting his hand on her hip.

When I saw him at the bonfire, I didn’t even think about his life, and about whether or not my actions would affect his world. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself.

And now I see that Jake was right after all. I am a w***e.

Zane has a girlfriend.