DARIEN
The growl was not mine. It was a sound scraped from the bottom of a cave, vibrating through my ribs and tearing me from a shallow, unsatisfying sleep.
"Mate."
I was awake instantly. The room was black, but I wasn't listening with my eyes. I was listening with the frantic, heightened awareness of a predator who had smelled blood in the wind.
A sharp, icy twinge of pain bloomed in my chest—not mine, but hers. It was an echo of a shock, a sudden, brutal impact.
Aria was hurt.
Onyx was a caged beast inside me, thrashing against my human control. "Run. Now. Find her!"
I sprang from the bed, adrenaline surging, and pulled on the first clothes I could find—a black t-shirt, jeans, and my heaviest boots.
Professionalism was dead. Only urgency remained.
"Quiet, you lunatic," I snarled under my breath, my voice rough. "Freesdale is five minutes away. We won't shift. We won't draw attention."
I was in my car, tires spitting gravel as I tore out of the driveway, before my mind could fully process the recklessness.
The Alpha in me knew where his mate was, but the Professor had to obey the speed limit. The conflict was a sickening tug-of-war.
Five minutes. The longest five minutes of my life.
I slammed the Audi into a parking space in the staff lot, not caring if I'd taken two spots.
"Find her, Onyx," I commanded, pulling the energy from my chest. "Give me the trail."
The wolf responded with a low, focused hum—a thread of almond and lavender, thin but unmistakable, leading me away from the front doors and toward the oldest academic wing.
The college campus was an obstacle course of humanity. Students and colleagues alike recognized my face.
"Professor Hedgegrove? I didn't see your name on the schedule today—"
"I'm busy." I didn't break stride, my voice clipped and lethal.
"Professor, could I ask a quick question about the macroeconomics paper—"
"Later. Go away." I didn't look at them, letting the sheer force of my frustration and fury push them back.
They didn't see a professor; they saw the apex predator I barely contained.
The scent was growing stronger now, mixed with the sharp copper tang of fresh blood. It led me down a secluded, dimly lit hallway in the East Wing, away from the main traffic.
I found her tucked against the cold stone wall, a small, still shape of sorrow.
Aria was unconscious.
Her head was tilted awkwardly, her breath shallow. Her small body looked impossibly fragile. The sight broke the last of my human restraint. I dropped to my knees beside her.
"Damn the rules."
I let Onyx reach out. I pressed a large, trembling hand over the center of her chest, right where the pain had been. The energy flowed, not a harsh Alpha command, but a soft, protective blanket of the mate bond—pure, healing wolf energy to steady her system.
She sputtered, a sudden, sharp gasp for air, and her eyelids fluttered open.
Her eyes were wide and unfocused—Haze, the cloud of confusion that always preceded her collapse. A tiny, crimson trickle ran from a cut on her bottom lip.
Fury, cold and blinding, flooded my veins. I gently wiped the blood away with my thumb, the action automatic, possessive.
"Who did this to you?" My voice was a low, dangerous rumble.
She didn't answer, her gaze floating aimlessly.
"Aria. Princess."
The word, spoken with the authority of the Alpha and the tenderness of the mate, anchored her.
Her hazy eyes finally locked onto mine.
I forced the question out again, my jaw rigid. "Who did this to you?"
She blinked slowly, the shock receding, the lie forming on her lips. "I... I tripped."
My eyes narrowed to slits. The wolf inside roared at the deception. She was lying to protect her attacker.
"Aria, I'll ask you one. Last. Time. Who did this to you?"
The force in my tone—the unyielding, absolute demand of the Alpha—shattered her defenses.
Her lips wobbled. Then, she crumpled against me, bursting into deep, wounded sobs that tore through my chest.
I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her tightly against my shirt. She smelled like sadness and the metallic fear of betrayal.
"It was her," she choked out, her voice muffled against my shoulder. "The girl Josh cheated on me with. She called me a child... a loser. She pushed me. She said I was too much..."
My rage was a physical thing, a storm threatening to consume the room. I felt Onyx lunging to the surface, demanding retribution.
I tilted her chin up, forcing her to look into my molten, dangerous eyes. Authority was the only thing she understood right now.
"Give me their names."
"Mila Woods... and Josh Graves."
My mind registered the name instantly. Josh Graves. Class representative. My course.
The boy who hurt my mate is a student I grade.
° ° ° °
I lifted Aria into my arms, the sheer relief of having her against my chest overriding the physical pain of my wounds from Creed. Her small body fit perfectly, the warmth instantly quieting the storm of Onyx. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her grip fragile.
"I'm taking you to my place," I said, my voice low and authoritative. "You're not safe here. You'll stand at the gate by the staff lot. Wait for my signal."
She barely whispered, "I... I drove to school today, Darien. My car is parked by the stadium."
The mention of her driving didn't register. The refusal did.
I tightened my hold. "I don't care, Aria. Your car stays here. You will do exactly as I ask. Understand?"
Her head dipped instantly. The small gesture of surrender—the little pup recognizing the Alpha's demand—was a perverse kind of relief. "Yes, sir."
We moved through the secluded hallway, her weight a comforting pressure against my heart. Onyx wanted to keep her cradled, to never set her feet on the ground again. The air was cool, the shadows deep, and for a glorious few seconds, she was mine, completely claimed and protected.
Then the hallway opened onto a main thoroughfare. I immediately set her down.
The sudden shift was jarring. Onyx roared, a frustrated snarl in the back of my throat. "Coward! Claim her!"
But I couldn't risk it. Not here, not now. The sight of a professor carrying a clearly injured student would ruin everything I needed to maintain for the next two months.
Aria stumbled slightly, leaning into me until her shoulder bumped my chest. The contact was brief, yet electric.
"Stay close," I murmured, my hand going to the small of her back, the possessive touch disguised as guidance.
We walked the rest of the way in tense silence. My eyes scanned every window, every doorway. I was a professional, but my instincts were howling at the human inefficiency of this escape.
The moment we reached the staff lot and she slid into the passenger seat of my black truck, I felt the tension bleed from my shoulders.
She was contained.
I started the engine and began pulling out, watching the security cameras. We were in the clear.
Then I heard the small, tell-tale clack of plastic and glass. Aria had pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans.
"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice snapping roughly. It came out harsher than intended, but the sudden reintroduction of her old life—her phone, her friends—felt like a violation of my control.
She flinched, shrinking into the seat. "I just... I want to text Lucia."
"
What would you tell her?" I asked, forcing a degree of calm back into my tone.
Her voice was small and breathy. "I don't know. That I'm fine?"
Fine. The word was a ridiculous insult to the situation. She was half-wolf, running from an assault, and now under the protection of a man she thought was her college professor.
"You are not fine, Aria," I stated, pulling onto the main road. "And you will not tell her you are fine. You will not tell anyone anything. Not yet."
I knew she needed her friend. Lucia was her anchor to her human life, and taking her away completely would make her fight me harder. But the less Lucia knew, the safer Aria was.
I pulled over to a quiet side street, letting the engine idle. I turned, my entire focus on her. The Alpha needed to negotiate with the pup.
"You can text her one thing," I ceded, watching her carefully. "Tell her you had a medical emergency and are with your father. Tell her you will contact her later. Nothing more."
Aria looked down at her hands, still trembling slightly. "But she'll know I'm not with my dad. She could call him.'"
The small, logical resistance—the human detail—was exactly what I had to eliminate.
"Then you will lie," I said, my voice hardening. "This is not up for discussion, Aria. For the next two months, your safety depends on you listening to me. No questions. No resistance. Text. Lucia. Now."