Claimed By The King(s) Of Kings

Aina

The dining hall was made up of several long tables, each capable of seating well over a hundred people. At the front, beyond the straight rows of tables, a raised platform stood where the professors and the headmaster sat in solemn authority. This was by far the largest room Aina had ever entered, its sheer size overwhelming her senses.

Students poured inside, filling the space with chatter and laughter as they clustered together with friends.

The only thing that set Aina apart from the rest was the fact that she was not wearing a uniform. She still wore the same oversized suit, its fabric hanging awkwardly on her frame.

Why is everyone wearing uniforms? I didn’t hear anything about us needing uniforms on the intercom, she thought, fidgeting with her hands and biting the inside of her cheeks.

There were many things Aina hated in this world, and standing out from the crowd was one of them.

She had spent most of her life being different, and for once she wanted nothing more than to blend in, to be like everyone else.

But it was too late to go back now. The weight of stares pressing against her skin made her rush forward with her head bowed, her steps quick and uncertain, until she unconsciously slid into a seat at the end of the middle row.

The moment Aina slid onto the wooden bench at the very end of the middle row, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The heavy prickle of a hundred invisible needles sank into her back.

The stares she had been dodging since entering the room didn’t just linger, they intensified to an agonizing degree.

Did I break a rule? Am I not supposed to sit yet? Are we supposed to wait for the professors?

Her heart hammered against her ribs as her gaze flickered frantically around the room. In the distance, she spotted other students already sitting down, but their heads were tilted together, their hands cupping their mouths as they whispered, their eyes darting directly toward her.

She felt like an exotic, monstrous animal put on display in a cage. Instinctively, her hand flew up to tug at her ragged, uneven bowl-cut bangs. Was it her hair? Was it the fact that she was the only person in a room of hundreds wearing an oversized, faded suit while everyone else wore pristine, dark navy academic blazers?

Before she could process the embarrassment, a pair of heavy, ice-cold hands slammed down hard onto her shoulders.

The force crushed her down against the bench. The instant the palms made contact, a thick, suffocating aura exploded over her senses. A rich, deadly scent of dark leather, ozone, and crushed winter pine flooded her lungs.

It was the scent of an Alpha, the scent was heavy enough to bring Aina to her knees and beneath the crushing pressure, her soul reacted with a sickening, traitorous warmth. Her wolf stirred, howling in frantic, undeniable submission.

MATE.

Aina’s breath hitched in absolute, sheer horror. Two? Two fated mates in a single day?! What kind of sick, twisted joke is the Moon Goddess playing on me?!

The body leaned down close behind her, the heat of a deep chest pressing against her back. Cold air brushed her shell-like ear as a voice, dripping with lethal venom, whispered into the quiet, frozen room. "Look who we have here... Who on earth do you think you are to sit in my seat?"

The tone was so bone-chillingly cold it sent a shiver straight down her spine, freezing the blood in her veins. Slowly and terrified, Aina turned her head to look up over her shoulder.

Standing over her was a man carved from pure nightmare and perfection. His hair was pitch-black, falling over sharp, razor-thin cheekbones, and his eyes were a terrifyingly dark obsidian that seemed to swallow the light. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his tailored uniform, radiating an absolute, undisputed air of royalty.

This was Prince Malric. The future King of Kings. The undisputed ruler of Moonside. The entire dining hall had fallen into a dead, absolute hush. Not a single fork clinked. Not a single student breathed.

"I—I’m so sorry," Aina stammered, dropping her voice into her raspy male fake-register, her shoulders aching under his relentless grip. "I didn’t know. There wasn’t a name tag. I’ll get up right now—"

She made a motion to slide off the bench, but Malric’s fingers dug deeper into her collarbones, pinning her down with terrifying, effortless strength.

"No, no," Malric murmured smoothly, a toxic, beautiful smile stretching across his dark features. "Don’t get up on my account, little rat. Please, stay. You want my seat so badly? You can sit in it. In fact, why don’t you sit on my head? Since you clearly think you’re above the bloodlines here."

Oh, fantastic, Aina thought, her mind screaming in panicked, hysterical fury while her shoulder bones literally creaked under his weight. Another psychotic, arrogant mate. The Goddess really hates my guts.

"I really am sorry, I’ll move—"

"I said sit," Malric growled softly, pushing down harder until a sharp gasp of pain escaped her lips. Before she could fight the pressure, a second body dropped heavily onto the bench directly beside her.

Aina flinched as the familiar, dark cedarwood and pine scent invaded her air. She turned her head and recognized him instantly: the wet-haired, broad-shouldered Greek god who had shoved her in the hallway and called her a dipshit. Prince Vance. Malric’s younger brother. Her other mate.

Vance rested his elbows on the table, a cruel, amused smirk playing on his lips as he looked at her ridiculous bowl cut and ill-fitting jacket. "Look at this, brother," Vance chuckled, his voice laced with pure mockery. "Looks like we found our very first idiot of the new school year."

Vance reached out, his thick, calloused fingers abruptly snatching Aina by the chin. He clamped her face in his palm, tilting her head back violently.

The moment his skin touched hers, a violent spark of electricity shot through Aina’s nervous system. Her body practically begged her to lean into his touch, to whine for his affection, to yield to the mate bond. It took every ounce of her remaining sanity and iron willpower to lock her muscles stiff, keeping her face blank while her inner wolf whimpered in desperation.

Vance narrowed his diamond-bright eyes, leaning in so close she could feel his warm breath against her cheeks. "You know... looking at you up close... you look awfully like a girl."

Aina’s heart stopped dead in her chest. Cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck.

Before she could swallow her terror and spit out an excuse, Vance let go of her chin with a sharp, dismissive flick that jerked her head to the side. He reached for a massive porcelain bowl sitting in the center of the table, grabbed a serving spoon, and aggressively scooped a heavy, steaming lump of bland mashed potatoes, dropping it onto the metal plate in front of her.

"Eat," Vance ordered coldly, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at her like she was a stray dog. "Eat it all, and maybe my brother won’t break your collarbones."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!