Mary waited until the Alphas' footsteps disappeared around the corner before she exhaled a breath that shook her entire frame.
Okay. So the Alphas are real.
And also—insanely, infuriatingly unfair.
She rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans, the phantom hum of that spark still vibrating in her fingertips. It wasn't just fear; it was a physical resonance, like her body had recognized a frequency it wasn't supposed to hear.
She forced herself to follow Administrator Vale down the corridor, her mind a frantic loop of Kieran's silver eyes and the way the air had curdled with heat the second he looked at her.
He's just a student, she lied to herself. A dangerous, predatory student who looks at me like I'm a riddle he wants to tear apart.
She barely heard Vale's warnings about the Eastern Gardens or the logistics of the Crescent Wing.
Dinner came and went. The orientation packets were memorized.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Kieran. Not just his face, but the way he'd stepped between her and Axel. The way his jaw had tightened, a muscle leaping in his cheek as if he were fighting the urge to growl.
Her skin felt too tight. A strange, restless energy was bubbling beneath her surface, making her limbs twitch. It felt like a fever, but her forehead was cool to the touch.
I need to move, she thought, throwing off her covers. If I don't burn this off, I'm going to scream.
She pulled on a pair of black leggings and a fitted charcoal tank top, laced up her sneakers, and slipped out of the room.
The academy at night was a different beast. The stone walls seemed to pulse with a low, thrumming heartbeat. Mary wound her way through the shadows, her pulse quickening as she approached the Training Grounds. She expected it to be empty, a silent cavern of iron and mats where she could push her body until her mind finally shut up.
She pushed open the heavy oak doors. The gym was dim, lit only by the faint, blue glow of the emergency crystals embedded in the high ceiling.
She walked toward the center mat, her heart hammering against her ribs. She started with a jog, then moved into a series of sharp, jagged strikes against a heavy bag. Left. Right. Pivot. Why did he look at me like that? Snap kick. Elbow.
Why does my blood feel like it's boiling?
She pushed harder, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Suddenly, a sharp, white-hot ache flared in the center of her chest. It wasn't a heart attack—it was a surge. A fountain of raw, golden light erupted from her palms, slamming into the heavy bag with the force of a localized gale.
The bag didn't just swing; the chain snapped. The hundred-pound cylinder of sand flew across the room, crashing into a rack of weights with a deafening roar of twisting metal.
Mary tumbled backward, gasping, her hands glowing with a fading, ethereal shimmer.
"What... what was that?" she whispered, staring at her palms.
"That," a voice rasped from the shadows, "is a very dangerous secret, Mary."
Mary scrambled to her feet, her heart leaping into her throat.
Her nerves screamed at her to flee back to the safety of her room. But she couldn't move.
She stood there, her breath hitching in her throat, caught in the gravity of a man who looked like he was trying to break the world with his bare hands.
Kieran delivered one last, devastating strike that sent the heavy bag swinging violently on its chain. He stopped, his chest heaving, steam literally rising from his shoulders in the chilly night air.
Slowly, he turned.
His silver eyes locked onto hers, and Mary felt that spark again—not a flicker this time, but a roar.
"Davenport," he rasped, his voice low and jagged. "You're a long way from your bed."
"You," she breathed, her voice trembling. "You did that. You're doing something to me."
Kieran didn't move at first. His silver eyes were fixed on her hands, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of her flared power—and the scent of her fear.
"I'm not doing anything," he said, his voice dropping into a low, predatory register that made her knees weak. He began to walk toward her, slow and deliberate, like a wolf closing in on a cornered deer. "That power is yours. And it's screaming."
"Stay back," Mary said, but her feet wouldn't move.
He didn't stop until he was inches away. The heat radiating off him was a physical force, an oven door swung open in the middle of a winter night.
He didn't touch her, but he loomed, his shadow swallowing her whole.
"You're shaking," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her mouth.
"I'm not," she lied, though her teeth were nearly chattering from the sheer intensity of his presence. "I'm just... tired."
Kieran reached out, his hand hovering near her waist before his fingers finally brushed the bare skin of her hip. The contact was electric. A literal spark jumped between them, blue and sharp.
Mary let out a soft, broken gasp, her head tilting back as Kieran's other hand found the wall behind her, effectively pinning her between the stone and his massive, heat-drenched frame.
"You smell like something I've lived my whole life waiting to find," Kieran hissed, his control visibly fraying. His eyes were no longer silver; they were a molten, glowing white.
He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "And I think you know exactly what you're doing to me."
The tension snapped. Kieran's hand moved with a sudden, desperate hunger, sliding beneath the hem of her tank top, his calloused palm flat against her stomach. Mary's breath hitched, a low moan escaping her before she could catch it.
She should push him away. She should run. But her body was acting on its own, arching into his touch, her fingers curling into the hard muscles of his arms.
He was a storm, and she was finally catching the lightning.
Kieran's mouth moved to the crook of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin in a way that was both a threat and a promise. His hand drifted lower, his fingers tangling in the waistband of her leggings, pressing against her with a possessive, heavy heat that made her vision swim.
This is wrong, her mind screamed.
More, her body answered.
Kieran's fingers found the edge of her underwear, his touch bold and demanding. When he finally made contact—skin on skin, a slick, shocking intimacy—Mary's eyes flew open.
She let out a sharp, choked gasp, her fingers digging into his shoulders. The sensation was too much, a sensory overload that felt like her soul was being pulled through her skin.
The surge of her power returned, violent and panicked.
BOOM.
A wave of kinetic energy exploded outward. Kieran was shoved back, his feet skidding across the mats as he fought for balance.
Mary didn't wait to see if he was okay. She turned and ran, her lungs burning, her heart feeling like it was going to burst out of her chest.
She didn't stop until she slammed her dorm door shut and slid down against the wood, her face buried in her hands, the ghost of his touch still burning like a brand on her skin.
Back in the gym, Kieran stood in the wreckage of the weight rack. He was breathing hard, his hands shaking, his scent heavy with her.
The door creaked open again.
Axel and Dante stepped in. Axel stopped dead, his nose wrinkling, his golden eyes flashing with immediate, violent realization.
"Kieran," Axel said, his voice a low, dangerous snarl. He stepped closer, sniffing the air around his friend. "Why do you smell like her? Why do you smell like her everywhere?"
Dante didn't speak, but the shadows in the room seemed to deepen, drawing toward him like a cloak. His gaze moved from Kieran's disheveled state to the broken heavy bag.
"You touched her," Dante said, his voice as cold as a grave.
Kieran straightened his shoulders, meeting their stares with a defiant, silver glint. "And what if I did?"
The air in the Training Grounds turned lethal as the three Alphas circled one another, the hunt for the human girl having officially turned into a war between kings.