Escaping the Lycan King's Bed

"I'm not attending your dumb dinner party. Not tomorrow. Not next year. Not ever!" Pianos and violins went dead. Every head in the small but elegant ballroom turned to stare at Irene, except Headmistress Norman. The petite, middle-aged woman in the 1960s hair rolls and baby-pink pumps took her sweet time to react. When she finally turned, she had on her classic bright smile that never reached her eyes. "That can't be true, Miss O’Sullivan. You've hit the twenty-year mark. You are finally eligible to join your fellow debutantes at the academy's annual soiree dinner event. Attendance is not optional." She was so controlled, so polished, that it pissed Irene's ass off. "I don't care. I'm not going, and you can't make me." She growled through her teeth. "Oh, I'm quite sure I can make you." With one flashy swerve, Headmistress Norman turned back to the rest of the class. "Now, girls, resume the waltz." Irene's cheeks heated, not from embarrassment, but from pure, unfiltered anger. She wanted to claw eyes out. She was so wound up that her heart was beating like a maniac within her chest. Her wolf recognized that familiar fury and stirred under her skin, ready to obey its human on command. How much Irene wished she could oblige. Betty was a demon when released. "You're not listening! No one ever listens to me!" Irene screamed from her belly. "I don't want to debut! I don't want to marry some dumb, rich, aristocrat! I'm at the bottom of my class! I still can't waltz without breaking a toe, and you said it yourself... I act like an uncultured pig raised on a dirty American farm. Why would you want to debut me anyway?" People had begun to look at Irene funny, and some even hid their mouths behind their hands, giggling and mocking her. None of it bothered her, though. After 12 years at the Stellaris Academy for Distinguished Ladies, she was used to it. It didn't matter that Irene had been trapped in the academy's estate since she was 8 years old. She'd never fit in with these old-money trust fund girlies. Her family background barely made the cut, and they'd always looked down on her for it. Yes, the O’Sullivans were an alpha family that ruled their own pack like everyone else, but they were hardly a successful one. Her father had worked a regular 9-5 office job, and she'd literally transferred to Stellaris from a public school. Everyone knew it, her pack was poor and her family was even more dead broke. Enough that they'd be willing to sell their daughter, who hadn't even hit puberty yet, to an institution that called itself an elite boarding school for noble werewolf ladies... but was just a glorified harem breeding program for the Lycan royal family. Was it so surprising she wanted out? What kind of academy took in girls as young as 5, then forbade them from ever leaving or seeing their families? What kind of academy told girls on their very first day that they were now properties of the Lycan family, that they would never be able to marry anyone else or live a regular life ever again? What kind of academy taught girls that it was the greatest honor to catch the eye of a royal man, and designed their entire education system to prepare them for that? How could none of them see it? The entire academy and its hundreds of years of tradition highkey made no sense. Irene wasn't buying into any of this bullshit propaganda that she was somehow supposed to feel ecstatic about practically being auctioned off. "I'm not going to the soiree!" Headmistress Norman furiously clapped her hands together, her calm exterior glitching for the first time. "Girls, waltz!" The rest of the debutantes didn't need to be told twice. They immediately stepped into formation. "And dear spinsters, do escort Miss O’Sullivan to her quarters, where she is to spend the rest of the day reflecting on her questionable behavior today." "Why do I get a time-out?" This time, Irene screamed because there really was nothing else she could do as four older women surrounded her. "You keep saying I am of age. I legally became an adult 2 years ago. Why can't I be allowed to make decisions for myself on my own future?" Irene kicked and struggled as she was dragged out of the ballroom, but the spinsters were all alpha daughters like her and therefore, were just as strong. Long ago, they'd all been students at Stellaris and had gotten lucky enough not to be chosen at their debuts. Most of them didn't see it that way, but they'd still been marked as 'too old' to attend the soiree the instant they'd turned 26. Irene was certain they intentionally took out their anger at 'having to stay behind and train the younger generations' on everyone else. She eventually stopped fighting when she was shoved into her dorm. She'd barely found her balance when the door locked behind her. For several seconds, she just stood there, staring at nothing in particular. Funnily enough, her bedroom, with its marble walls and velvet curtains, was way more luxurious than anything she'd had with her parents. Still, it was a prison. And if Headmistress Norman had her way, it would be her home for much, much longer. Crashing to her knees, she bent over and let out a deep, frustrated scream. "Iry, are you okay?" The next time Irene opened her eyes, she was staring into the worried face of Evelyn Pembroke. "Headmistress Norman was very upset this time. She made the spinsters stand outside your door." On sighting her longest and only friend at the academy, Irene quickly sat up. She hadn't realized she'd slept off, right there on the cold tile floors. That was how bad of a shape she was in, but Evelyn didn't need to know that. Sitting up and taking a deep breath, she forced herself to smile. "I'm fine. Just in utter shock that after my impressive record of maintaining the no. 1 spot in the Black Book for 7 years in a row, I'm still being made to debut." She looked straight into the soft brown eyes of her friend. Evelyn tilted her head slightly to the side, like she was thinking deep and hard. "I think Headmistress Norman really doesn't mean any harm. Maybe she truly believes that every girl at the academy deserves a fair chance to be chosen, and is just trying to get that done for you." Irene couldn't help it, she snorted. She loved Evelyn to death, she really did, but this was one area in which they clashed. While Irene liked to think of herself as a freedom fighter, challenging traditions to expose her peers to a brighter future that could be... Evelyn was the typical Stellaris student, a conformist, eager to catch the eye of some rich royal snob. Plus, Headmistress Norman didn't give a s**t about anybody. That woman had no feelings at all. She simply enjoyed controlling every single detail about every single girl at the academy. Irene was about to explain for the millionth time that every adult around them was just fundamentally sick to the core, and there was no need to try to find the good in them. But then she noticed Evelyn's fingernails were chapped. She'd been biting them again, and that could only mean one thing. Immediately, Irene felt awful. Yes, she absolutely hated the upcoming soiree and everything it stood for, but that didn't mean it wasn't still plenty important to other people. "And how about you, Evey? How've you been holding up?" Almost like clockwork, Evelyn hid her fingernails in the fabric of her gown. "Me? Oh. I do have a dress fitting in a bit. It's a bit last-minute, but—" Her gaze fell, and Irene hated the way her voice suddenly turned tiny and vulnerable. "I followed the diet plan. They don't believe me, but I didn't eat more than I was supposed to. They didn't like the way my breasts popped out of my neckline. I've gained some weight since my last fitting." A new anger curled in Irene's chest. She wanted to load a shotgun, swing it over her shoulders, and let it rain, human cowboy style. But she couldn't do that. She was just as powerless in this dictatorship of an academy. So, instead, she took Evelyn's hand in hers and smiled genuinely. "Listen to me, you're beautiful. One of the prettiest in this school. I know it, everyone knows it. If they ever make you feel any different, then they're wrong. The problem is them, not you." "It's just—" Evelyn's eyes finally began to tear up. "What if I don't get picked?" Now, that was the silliest thing Irene had heard in a while. The brown-skinned goddess, with the flawless glowing skin and gorgeous 4c curls, one of their school's most exotic options, wouldn't get picked? Yeah, the royal boys would be falling over themselves for her. Sure, she had naturally fuller boobs and ass, but if the hidden books in the secret section of the library were to be trusted, the men of the world wouldn't mind. If only Evelyn would realize none of the men in the Lycan bloodline deserved her. "I don't think it would be so bad if you aren't picked." Irene grinned. "We can stay behind together, as spinsters. You’ll have me, and one day, we'll escape from this hellhole." She was serious, but she at least expected Evelyn to laugh it off. So, she was a bit surprised when Evelyn's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Iry, do you not think you'll get picked?" She asked. Scratch that, this was the silliest thing she'd heard in like forever. Irene calmed down. No, she didn't think a pompous royal would want her. It was almost. laughable. Those men liked their women pretty, silent, and demure, with enough 'womanly assets'. Irene wasn't just skinny, she was straight up thin. Her chest was flat, her ass was even flatter, her skin was too pale, her freckles were too many, and her hair was the most unflattering shade of rust red. Irene knew she wasn't ugly. If you looked long enough, she was pretty cute, but then again, in any crowd, her face basically faded into the background. She was no outstanding beauty, but that was okay. In fact, she liked herself that way. The moon goddess knew she wasn't exactly looking to catch male attention. "I'm not going to be picked," Irene said confidently. "Are you sure?" Evelyn's frown deepened. "You're very beautiful, Irene. You keep saying you're not, but it's true." Now, Irene couldn't hold in her laugh. "Thanks, Evey, but I'm the last person anyone would want as a wife. I'll attend Headmistress Norman's stupid soiree, but nothing will come out of it. 5 more soirees and I'll be allowed to join spinsterhood in peace." Spinsterhood wasn't exactly the future Irene dreamed of, but it was the best she could aim for at the moment. Spinsters weren't caged like students and could actually leave the estate, as long as they were back by nightfall. There were even rumors that some spinsters kept lovers. How naughty. Sure, Irene could do spinsterhood. "I don't know, Iry." Standing up, Evelyn began walking towards the door. "I think you underestimate yourself." As she left, her words got Irene thinking, automatically causing a scowl. She'd always believed she was in no danger of being chosen. Aside from her average looks, there was the fact that she was an American from a close Irish heritage and a poor pack. She was too nonchalant to be elegant, too curious to be obedient, and way too ambitious to be controlled. Her demanding not to attend the soiree earlier today was mostly because she'd decided she didn't want to suffer through the nauseating stuffiness at all. But hadn't Miss Prescott from Society Relations and Personality Building taught that werewolf men, especially those from the Lycan bloodline, were unpredictable? What if a man from the Lycan royal family actually... (Irene nearly choked up)... liked her? For the first time, true panic shot her like a bolt of lightning. Damn, she'd never really thought about it, but if a royal really chose her, she wouldn't be able to refuse. And the chances she would even be entering into a proper marriage were pretty low. The truth was that the market was oversaturated. There were too many debutantes and way too few men with the Original Lycan blood in them. Most were already married or just weren't 'ready yet', so most chosen debutantes really just ended up as glorified s*x toys. It would be like moving from a cage to a maximum-security prison. Irene could absolutely not let that happen. She hadn't fought the system for 12 years only to end up trapped in it. But what could she do? As Headmistress Norman had said, she met all the qualifications, and she could turn back the clock to change that. Unless... Irene had a brilliant idea. Well, it was crazy depending on who you asked, but what choice did she have? She had less than 24 hours to somehow sabotage herself, and this was the only way she could think of. Pushing open her dorm's window, she looked down at the ground three stories below. It was a long way down. She gulped. Well, it was now or never. Climbing out her window, Irene carefully and quietly began to make her way down. It was already nightfall, but her wolf eyes made seeing in the dark effortless. Sadly, being half-beast didn't come with a climbing skill set. Regardless, she had to see this through. She had to successfully climb out of her room, sneak outside the estate and find herself a male specimen that would take her virginity.