The Beta And His Doctor Mate

ALEXA MY BULLY “Ouch!” I wince as the impact comes out of nowhere. A hard thud against the side of my head, sharp enough to blur my vision for half a second and make my world tilt. A basketball drops to the polished gym floor and bounces lazily against my sneaker before rolling away as if it just didn’t hit my head. Around me laughter ripples through the gym. My fingers touch my temple as I breath slowly through the pain. I don’t need to turn around to know who threw the ball. My body already knows. It reacts before my mind does — shoulders tightening, pulse shifting, the anger boiling under my skin. Still, I turn. Kaden Campbell stands near the free-throw line, one hand resting on his hip, the other brushing back a strand of red hair that’s fallen loose from its neat middle part. The strands catch the glow of the gym lights. Turning it a coppery red. His blue eyes are bright — amused, unapologetic, alive. His pose, his looks unfairly good for someone who just used my head as target practice. “Did it hit you?” he calls out, feigning mild concern as one corner of his mouth lifts. “Of course it hit me,” I say, lowering my hand slowly. “And you know.” A few guys on his team snicker. Someone mutters, “Savage,” under their breath. Kaden strolls toward me, unhurried, confident in the way only someone born into power can be. Future Beta of the Firestone Pack. Knowing he would lead someday. And he carries it like a second skin. “My mistake, Miss Alexa,” he says lightly. “Didn’t see you standing there.” his brows lift dramatically. “Thought you were part of the wall décor. You know. Beige. Thin. Decorative.” More laughter fills the place Heat rushes up my neck as I bite my lips. I drop my arms and sigh. “Why do even bother talking to you.” He snorts. “You should be glad I even talk to you.” “Cut it out, K,” one of the Alpha twins — Noam — drawls lazily from behind him. Kaden doesn’t even look back. His eyes stay locked on mine. “Where’s the fun in that?” he says. “Little miss Alexa...” “I am not little,” I snap, stepping toward him. He tilts his head, studying me in a way that feels less like mockery and more like assessment. His eyes move across my face, “Yeah, you are kind of… tiny. Easy to miss.” He raises his hand, the inside if his palm almost touching the middle of my head, then drags it to his arm. “See? You don’t even reach up to my shoulder. The insult is deliberate. But so is the way his gaze lingers. It drops — just briefly — from my shoulders, my waist, the length of my legs before returning to my eyes. Not long enough for anyone else to notice. Long enough for me to feel it. Heat creeps into my cheeks and I hate that it does. “You threw it the ball on purpose.” He steps closer. Close enough that I can see the faint scar near his eyebrow from when he fell from his bike months ago. Close enough to smell clean sweat and something woodsy and warm. “And what if I did?” a perfect brow rises. His head bending further. And the gym noise fades around us. Everyone. Just enough to make me stand still. Force me to. His presence does that to me. It presses against me. Fills the space between my mind and heart. Demanding me to pause and acknowledge him. Which I hate so much. This reaction. I lift my chin. “Then you owe me an apology.” “Over my dead body.” One of the Alpha twins, Noam, sighs from across the court. “Kaden.” “Relax, Noam” Kaden calls, his eyes still on me. Then, softer, to me alone: “You’re cute when you’re bossy.” My stomach flips at this softness. It’s infuriating. This is exactly what I hate about this whole thing. “You look like a feral wolf when you’re trying to be cool with picking on me.” The words roll out straight from my head to mouth. But I don’t regret it. Even when the snickers fill the air. Even when I see his nostrils flare in anger. And his blue eyes flicker with shock and then amusement. “You have a big mouth. As usual.” his grin is wolfish. “And you have a small brain that seems to lock up when it comes to bullying me.” I don’t remember being this bold. Yet I like it. Another round of snickers, laughter and giggles. Someone even whistles. But a glare from him and the place falls quiet. “I demand an apology or I’ll report you,” I say. “You wouldn’t,” he says quietly, rolling his tongue around his cheek. “I would.” For a second, the teasing mask drops off his face replaced by what looks like frustration. But not fear. “You think they’ll believe you over me?” “They have before.” It’s true. Alphas Vince and Vance may tolerate arrogance, but they don’t tolerate bullying. Especially not from someone expected to lead the pack “You wouldn’t dare,” he says quietly without humor now. “Again.” “I would.” Heels click sharply against the gym floor as his girlfriend, Macy, approaches, sliding her arm through his. She steps forward. “Who do you think you are?” she snaps. “Just because your dad’s Head Warrior doesn’t mean you get to threaten him. He’s the future Beta.” “And that makes him untouchable?” I shoot back. “Does it come with a free pass to act like a jerk?” Kaden’s eyes darken and his fists clench at his sides as gasps and whistles fill the air. But he says nothing. “Hey!” Coach Anderson bellows. “Break it up! Campbell, back to drills! Alexa you’re in the B Team this time. Move everyone!” Kaden doesn’t move immediately. His eyes stay on mine. Telling me it’s not over. It never is. Reluctantly, he turns away, throwing an arm over the shoulders of his girlfriend. I sigh, shoulders sagging, shaking my head as I turn away. Just another day at school being bullied by Kaden Campbell. My chronic bully. The left side of my head throbs faintly as I sit. I massage the place, wincing slightly not from the pain. But from the memory of the impact. “Jerk.” I murmur. “Hey.” Tessa, my friend says as she sits beside me. Giving me a sympathetic look. “You should really report him to the Alphas.” “And how many times have I done that?” I ask in irritation. I’ve lost count. “You still should. He’s a jerk and should never be allowed to become future beta with how much he picks on you.” she wraps an arm around me. “Sorry.” I lean my head to hers, grateful for a friend like her. “Thanks.”