Lila was in a state of catatonic shock as Adrian Wolfhart ushered her out of his private lounge. The word "Suite" echoed in her mind, a terrifying term for her new gilded cage. She was no longer just his reluctant assistant; she was his captive, living under his direct, constant surveillance.
The Beta, whose name she didn't know and frankly didn't care about, efficiently handled the transfer. Lila stood numbly in the hallway, clutching the revised schedule, while a team of Adrian's personal servants vanished to retrieve her belongings from the Omega dorm. She knew this move would send shockwaves through the Academy, cementing her status as Adrian's—and she hadn't even had a conversation with him that didn't involve the word "fear."
Adrian, oblivious to her internal meltdown, led her to a massive elevator reserved for the Alpha Headquarters.
"The Beta will meet us after the lecture with your belongings," Adrian said, his tone utterly casual, as if transferring an Omega's entire life to his private living space was a daily errand. "I trust your Third Floor Suite will be comfortable. It has excellent airflow, though I may need to adjust it to better capture that... unique scent of yours."
Lila froze, turning to face him in the elevator. Her voice came out as a strained, aggressive whisper. "Alpha, I assure you, my scent is entirely unremarkable. I fail to see why you are making this into some sort of bizarre, invasive project!"
Adrian leaned against the elevator wall, his silver eyes glittering with pure, unfettered amusement. "Invasive? Lila, I am the True Blood. All Omegas are, by definition, invasive to my senses. You simply have the volume turned up to maximum. It's like having a constant, melodious alarm bell ringing softly in the background. It is fascinating."
"It's harassment," she snapped back, the fear making her clumsy with her words.
"Perhaps," he agreed, the casual acceptance of the term making her skin crawl. "But now you are my assistant, and assistants do not question the Master's research methods. Now, shall we move quickly? Pack Lore and Ancient Texts is about to begin."
The lecture hall for Pack Lore was smaller, darker, and felt more intimate than the general assembly hall. It was steeped in the smell of old paper and dust, and the seating was arranged in a steep, semi-circle, emphasizing the professor at the center.
When Adrian Wolfhart walked in with Lila Blackwood right beside him, the effect was immediate and dramatic. Every head snapped up. The atmosphere, which had been relaxed, immediately stiffened with curiosity and apprehension. Whispers broke out like a sudden, collective rustle of leaves.
Lila felt her cheeks burn. She scanned the room and, with a fresh wave of despair, saw her previous entourage: Chloe and Tiffany were seated together, their faces a mix of gaping shock and intense, green-eyed jealousy. In the front row, Rose Williams was watching them, her pen paused over her notes, a look of distinct confusion on her face.
This is great! Ava thought sarcastically. Rose sees me walking in with her most powerful enemy! She's going to think I'm already trying to sabotage her with a major power play! My survival plan just ran off a cliff.
Adrian, completely unconcerned, strode directly to the front row and chose two seats—dead center, right under the professor's nose.
"Sit," he murmured to Lila, and this time, the single word carried a subtle, commanding weight. It wasn't the full-force Alpha Voice, but it was enough.
Lila's body, already weakened by the constant exposure to his pheromones, instantly obeyed. She sank into the chair, her mind screaming defiance, but her muscles moving against her will. She hated the involuntary submission.
Adrian sat next to her, placing his elbow on the desk. He was so close that his proximity was a physical assault. The cedarwood and iron scent was overwhelmingly intense. She could see the dark, tailored fabric of his uniform moving with his breath, feel the subtle heat radiating off his powerful body.
Professor Valerius, a wizened old Beta with a long beard, cleared his throat and started the lecture, trying to regain control of the stunned classroom.
"Today, we delve into the core tenets of the Lycanthropy Code, specifically the ancient text on the Purity of the True Bloodline..."
Lila tried desperately to focus on the professor, but Adrian was a devastating, beautiful distraction. She tried to pull her chair back an inch, to create some breathing room, but Adrian immediately shifted his leg, subtly pressing it against hers.
"Attempting to flee, Assistant?" Adrian whispered, his voice too low for anyone else to hear. He didn't even look at her; his silver gaze was fixed on the professor.
"I am merely seeking a comfortable position, Alpha," Lila lied, her voice shaky.
"You will not find one," he replied simply. "Not until I understand why your heart rate is accelerating to that delightful rhythm."
Lila felt a rush of heat and furious embarrassment. He could hear her heart! It was the final, total invasion of privacy. She had to fight back, not with strength, but with annoying, clumsy resistance.
She tried to take notes, but her hand trembled too much. She picked up the elegant gold pen, intending to write, but in her agitation, her elbow clipped the edge of the desk. The pen spun out of her grasp and clattered loudly, rolling straight onto Adrian's lap.
The entire class froze. The silence was absolute.
Lila was mortified. She was being clumsy, loud, and annoying—all the things the elegant Lila Blackwood was not supposed to be. And she had just invaded the personal space of the True Blood Alpha.
"My apologies, Alpha," Lila said, forcing out the words. She bent down quickly to retrieve it, but Adrian's heavy, dominant hand moved faster.
He picked up the pen, his silver eyes finally turning toward her. His expression was one of intense, almost predatory curiosity.
"Clumsy, are we, Assistant Blackwood?" he murmured, holding the pen between his thumb and forefinger. He didn't give it back. Instead, he took the delicate, expensive writing tool and slid it slowly, deliberately, into his own breast pocket, right over his heart.
"You won't be needing this. I will dictate your notes to you," he declared, his voice carrying the finality of a decree. "It will ensure your mind is focused solely on my voice. And my needs."
The arrogance was suffocating. He was not just controlling her studies; he was controlling her very actions.
Lila felt that familiar, desperate rush of clumsy anger. She slammed her hands onto the desk, leaning in toward him with wide, furious eyes.
"That's absurd! I'm not a child! I am perfectly capable of taking my own—"
Adrian cut her off with a look so intense, so chilling, that it pulled the air straight from her lungs. But then, he did something entirely unexpected. He reached out and, with an almost tender motion, used his thumb to lightly brush a stray coffee-colored strand of hair from her cheek. The gesture was so intimate, so jarringly gentle, that it contradicted his cold gaze entirely.
"Shh, little Omega," he whispered, the endearment sounding like a sweet lie. "Be quiet. I am speaking. You will sit still, you will not interrupt, and you will not create a scene. If you do, I will ensure the rest of your term is spent learning true obedience in a much more private manner."
He didn't need the Alpha Voice. The threat in his normal tone, coupled with the unsettling intimacy of the touch, was enough.
Lila collapsed back into her chair, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She was red-faced, breathless, and utterly defeated. She didn't dare speak again, staring fixedly at the professor.
She could feel Adrian's gaze linger on her for another moment before he finally returned his attention to the lecture. She felt his powerful leg pressed against hers, the comforting heat of it a dangerous reminder of her captivity.
The rest of the lecture was a blur. Adrian took no notes himself. Instead, he would lean in every few minutes, dictating a complex, insightful note directly into Lila's ear, his breath warm on her skin.
"Write this, Assistant: The ancient law of the pack is flawed, as it fails to account for the necessary brutality of the True Blood's ascendancy," he whispered.
Lila, without a pen, had to commit his chilling, self-serving decree to memory, the sound of his voice and the heavy, intoxicating smell of his presence the only tools she had left. She was trapped, scared, and, to her utter horror, found herself intensely aware of every single point of contact between them. The survival game had turned into a terrifying, high-stakes game of seduction and submission, and she was already losing.