Chapter 2: Claire's POV
1237 Words
I’m sitting in class, staring at the board, pretending I care about the lecture on cross-realm energy manipulation. I want to pay attention. I really do. But LJ’s words keep echoing through my head like a cursed ringtone.
You should be out partying.
You should be flirting.
You should be living your life, Claire.
Instead, my nights are filled with Bluey, Paw Patrol, magically refilling sippy cups, shapeshifting bath toys, and a toddler whose emotions affect the weather in a ten-foot radius.
Don’t get me wrong — I love Carter with every fiber of my soul. I’d fight any god who tried to take him away. But sometimes… sometimes I wish I wasn’t doing all of this alone.
I thought Jordan would be that person — the partner, the teammate, the love.
Then he opened his mouth.
“Maybe… one day we won’t have to worry about the kid,” he’d said. So casually. So carelessly. As if Carter was luggage we could just set down someday.
That was the first red flag.
The second was when his fangs came out.
Literally.
He was hungry, emotional, and convinced “just a little blood” wouldn’t hurt me.
He was wrong.
He almost drained me dry.
Fucking vampires. Never again.
I rub my neck unconsciously — the skin healed long ago, but the memory never quite did.
A sharp thwack breaks me out of my thoughts. Something smacks the side of my head. I blink and look down.
A wad of paper. Of course.
I don’t even need to look to know who threw it, but I turn anyway.
Katy.
She’s sitting two rows back with her perfect golden curls and the same smug expression she’s had since we were twelve. She gives me a little finger wave — the sweet, innocent kind she used when we were still friends — and her little minions choke down giggles.
I roll my eyes and turn back around.
Unbelievable. We grew up together. Trained together. Cast our first spells together. But the second Carter entered the picture, she and her pack turned on me like I was spreading plague spores.
She told everyone I must’ve magically hidden my pregnancy because I was ashamed of who the father was. The rumor spread faster than wildfire in a dry realm. Some people believed her. Some didn’t.
But the damage was done.
Katy and I aren’t friends anymore. We’re enemies.
And the thing that pisses me off the most?
She has no idea the truth would’ve shaken the entire academy.
Not that it matters. I won’t give her the satisfaction of knowing anything real about my life ever again.
I’m determined to ignore Katy and her pack of wannabe sirens, so I force myself to focus on Professor Valen’s lecture.
He’s mumbling about “cross-realm leyline pressure points” and “ethical boundaries when manipulating lunar pathways,” but it’s all background noise. My brain is doing that annoying thing where it replays every bad decision I’ve made in the past year.
Jordan.
Hiding Carter from half the academy.
Working myself to death to pretend I’m fine.
My eyelids drift, and I’m seconds from face-planting onto my desk when—
CRASH.
The classroom door slams open so hard the runic carvings rattle.
The entire room goes silent.
Every student turns. Even Professor Valen stops mid-sentence, chalk frozen in his hand.
And that’s when I see him.
A guy steps through the doorway — tall, broad-shouldered, dark clothes hanging off him like shadows he hasn’t bothered to shake off. His hair is black, messy in that I woke up like this and still look dangerous way. His eyes sweep the room, glowing faintly with a wolfish amber that send chills up my spine.
A werewolf.
Not just any werewolf.
An Alpha.
You can feel it — the air thickens the moment he enters, magic prickling against my skin like static. Even the enchanted lights flicker overhead.
He smells like rain, cold forest air, and something else — something wild and ancient and heavy with power.
Great.
Exactly what I needed today.
Professor Valen clears his throat, suddenly looking small despite being one of the strongest scholars on campus.
“Mr. Draven… how nice of you to join us.”
Draven.
Oh hell.
I’ve heard that name whispered in hallways.
Rumors. Warnings.
Stories about a wolf whose pack was wiped out.
Stories about a wolf who doesn’t bow to gods or goddesses.
Stories about a wolf who’s been looking for—
No. Stop it, Claire.
It’s just gossip.
Draven doesn’t answer the professor. He barely acknowledges him. Instead, he scans the room again — slow, deliberate, predatory — and when his eyes land on me…
He freezes.
Like he wasn’t expecting to see me here.
Like he recognizes me.
Like something in him clicked into place.
A shiver pulses through me, pulling tight across my ribs.
Why is he looking at me like that?
His jaw flexes. His nostrils flare, breathing me in. And his eyes—
His eyes shift.
From amber… to a deep, unnatural silver.
A sign of ancient wolf magic.
A sign of a bond snap.
A sign of destiny.
No.
No. Absolutely not.
Not today, not this week, not ever.
I sit up straighter, spine stiff.
He steps further into the room.
Students instinctively lean away.
And then—
He walks straight toward me.
Professor Valen sputters. “Mr. Draven, your seat is in the back—”
Draven ignores him. Doesn’t break eye contact.
He stops beside my desk, gaze still locked on mine, expression unreadable but intense enough to make my heartbeat stutter.
Then, in a low voice—deep, rough, dangerous—he says:
“You’re in my seat.”
The entire class inhales like a single organism.
Katy lets out a squeaky gasp behind me.
I raise a brow. “Funny. I don’t see your name on it.”
His lips twitch — not a smile, but something darker. An amused warning.
“I wasn’t asking,” he says quietly.
There’s something in his tone. Something ancient. Something that makes my magic buzz beneath my skin in a way I do not like.
Or maybe I like it too much.
His gaze drifts over my face again — slow, assessing, almost reverent.
“What are you?” he murmurs, mostly to himself.
My heart slams.
I swallow hard. “Late for class, apparently.”
Before Draven can speak again, Professor Valen snaps, “Both of you — sit. Now.”
Draven’s eyes linger on me one second longer, then he moves — sliding into the desk beside mine instead of the one behind it.
Close.
Too close.
I try to face the front again, but I can feel him watching me.
Studying me.
Breathing me in like he’s trying to memorize something important.
Like he found something he’s been hunting.
And the worst part?
For a split second —
just one —
my magic responds.
A warm pulse, low in my chest.
As if whispering:
He’s dangerous.
He’s powerful.
He’s yours.
I slam my hand on my notebook, forcing the thought away.
No.
Nope.
Not happening.
Not with a wolf.
Not with this wolf.
I am a witch.
A demigod.
A mother.
I do not have time for complicated.
But one thing is clear:
Draven knows something about me.
And he’s not going to leave me alone.
- Writer
