THE ALPHA'S DEADLY ADDICTION

Angel’s pov I could feel his eyes on me before I even looked up. It was like an itch I couldn't scratch, a heat that scorched the side of my face and burned down my neck. Three weeks into the semester and he was still doing this s**t. I hunched over my textbook in the campus courtyard, pretending to be absorbed in supply and demand curves that I'd already memorized last week. My pen tapped against the page in an irritated rhythm. Don't look. Don't give him the satisfaction. The way he watched me made my skin crawl, that smile that came so easily was the practiced mask of just another psychopath. "Oh my God, he's looking over here again," Stella whispered beside me, her voice pitched high with excitement. She was supposed to be studying Econ with me, but she'd been useless for the past twenty minutes. "Mmm," I said, not looking up. "Angel, seriously. You have to see this. He's with the entire crew and he keeps—" She grabbed my arm. "He's smiling. Like, directly at our table." "Good for him." I flipped a page aggressively. Mimi leaned in from Stella's other side. "I swear he was looking at me last week. We made eye contact at Java House and he held it for like, five whole seconds." "That's nothing," Stella scoffed. "He bought me a drink at Phi Kappa's party. We talked for, like, twenty minutes." "About what? His trust fund?" I couldn't help it. I looked up. And immediately locked eyes with Jason Beauregard. Fuck. He was across the courtyard with his usual pack of wolves—literally, in this case, though the humans on campus didn't know that. All of them were gorgeous in that effortless, old-money way that made me want to throw something. Designer everything, not a hair out of place, the kind of guys who'd never worked a real day in their lives, with yes-man servants who would cup their literal shits in their hands and clap if they were told to. But he stood out even among them. Blonde hair that fell perfectly across his forehead, sharp jawline, shoulders that filled out his expensive jacket in a way that should be illegal. And those eyes—God, those blue eyes that seemed to constantly search for me in a crowd and light up when he found me. He was watching me with that same intensity he always had, like I was the only person in the entire courtyard. Like he'd been waiting for me to look at him. And then he smiled. Not the charming, easy grin he gave everyone else. This one was softer. Almost... hopeful? My stomach did a traitorous flip and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. No. Absolutely not. I glared at him, putting every ounce of irritation I could muster into that look. Leave me alone. Stop looking at me. Stop making me feel things. His smile faltered. Confusion flickered across his face, his eyebrows drawing together like he couldn't understand what he'd done wrong. Like he genuinely couldn't comprehend why someone wouldn't want his attention. For half a second, he looked like a kicked puppy. And I hated hated that part of me wanted to apologize. "Did you just... glare at Jason Beauregard?" Stella breathed beside me. "I have no idea what you're talking about." I shoved my textbook into my bag with more force than necessary. "Oh my God, you did. You totally did." Mimi's eyes were huge. "Do you have a death wish? Do you know who his family is?" Yeah. I knew exactly who his family was. Old money. Werewolf royalty. The kind of power that could make people disappear if they felt like it. Jason was the heir to the Beauregard empire—which meant he was dangerous, connected, and completely off-limits to someone like me. Not that it mattered. I wasn't interested. Liar. "He's just another rich asshole who thinks the world revolves around him," I muttered, standing up. "I need to get to the library." "Angel, wait—" Stella grabbed my wrist. "Why are you being weird about this? Half the girls on campus would kill to have Jason Beauregard looking at them the way he looks at you." "Then they can have him." I pulled away and started walking, very deliberately not looking back at where I could still feel his gaze burning into me. The problem wasn't that I found Jason Beauregard unattractive. The problem was the opposite. The problem was that every time he looked at me, something in my chest tightened. Every time I caught him staring—which was constantly, the obsessive weirdo—my traitorous body responded with heat and want and all these complicated feelings I didn't have time for. The problem was that behind his charming smile and easy laugh, I saw something else. Something darker. A predatory edge that flickered in those blue eyes when he thought no one was watching. I'd seen that look before. In men who took what they wanted. In men who were dangerous. And the worst part? The absolute worst part? It didn't scare me the way it should. It made me want to know more. I made it halfway across campus before I had to stop and catch my breath, leaning against the brick wall of the science building. Get it together, Angel. This was exactly the kind of distraction I couldn't afford. I had two jobs, a mother's debt hanging over my head like a guillotine, and a scholarship that required me to maintain a 3.8 GPA. I didn't have time to moon over some rich werewolf who probably saw me as a fun challenge because I was the only girl on campus who didn't fall at his feet. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Mom: Need $500 by Friday. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back against the wall, letting out a long breath. Right. Priorities. I opened my banking app and did the mental math I'd been avoiding all morning. Between my TA position and my shifts at Silk & Skin, I'd made $2,800 this week. Minus rent, minus Mom's payment, minus groceries... "Angel?" I nearly jumped out of my skin. He was standing three feet away, hands in his pockets, looking at me with those ridiculous blue eyes full of concern. How the hell did he move so quietly? "What." It came out harsher than I intended, but I was too rattled to care. "Are you okay?" Jason took a small step closer, and I caught his scent—expensive cologne mixed with something woodsy and clean. "You looked upset back there." "I'm fine." "You sure? Because you kind of ran away—" "I didn't run. I walked. At a normal pace. Away from people who were annoying me." His mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. "Did I do something to annoy you?" Yes. You exist. You look at me. You make me feel things I don't want to feel. "No," I said flatly. "I just don't appreciate being stared at like I'm some kind of zoo animal." "I wasn't—" He ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely flustered. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just... I think you're interesting." "Interesting." I crossed my arms. "Right. Is that what you tell all your girls?" "What girls?" His eyebrows wrinkled and oh boy, he seemed to have perfected that confused puppy look on his face because my resolve wavered. "Oh, come on." I gestured vaguely back toward the courtyard. "You're Jason Beauregard. You have a different girl hanging off your arm every weekend. Don't act like I'm special." Something flashed in his eyes—hurt? Anger? It was gone before I could identify it. "You are special," he said quietly. "You're the only person on this entire campus who looks at me like I'm not." The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. I almost believed him. And then he threw the hook. “Can I make it up to you? Coffee? I know a place. No one at our school goes there.” For a moment, just a moment, I entertained it. Then I remembered exactly where I'd be in six hours—on a pole in Silk & Skin, dancing for men who looked at me the same way he was looking at me now. Like I was something they could have if they paid the right price. “Can’t. I have work.” “When?” “Tonight. late.” “What kind of work?” My stomach clenched. Here it was. The moment where I could either lie or tell the truth and watch him disappear like everyone else. “The kind that pays my bills.” He went silent. If he had any common sense, he’d drop this. Drop me. “Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Rain check on the coffee?” I blinked up at him, something warm and uncomfortable spreading through my chest. No judgment? No prying questions? No subtle insult disguised as concern? He’s terrifying. "I have to go," I said, pushing off the wall. "Angel, wait—" "Stop following me, Jason." I walked away before he could say anything else, before my resolve could c***k any further. But I could feel his eyes on me the entire way across campus. And I hated how much I liked it. By the time I got to the library, I was furious—at him, at myself, at the stupid flutter in my stomach that wouldn't go away. I threw myself into a chair in the back corner and tried to focus on my Econ homework, but all I could see was the way his face had fallen when I'd glared at him. The genuine confusion, like he couldn't understand why I wouldn't want his attention. Because you're dangerous, I wanted to tell him. Because men like you don't notice girls like me unless they want something. Because I've spent my entire life learning to spot predators, and you have 'predator' written all over you. Because I'm terrified that if I let you get close, I won't be able to walk away.