Claimed By The King(s) Of Kings

Aina Pov

The dead silence in the dining hall fractured into a terrifying, vibrating growl.

Malric’s obsidian eyes bled into a violent, luminescent crimson.

The sheer force of his Alpha scent erupted like a volcano, thick and suffocating, laying heavy over the entire room until the surrounding students literally dropped to their knees, gasping for air.

Bone-cracking sounds echoed from his jaw as it elongated, coarse black fur sprouting rapidly along his cheekbones and neck. His sharp teeth sharpened into lethal fangs, glistening with saliva.

He wasn’t just mad; he was shifting. Right here in the middle of the hall. He was going to slaughter her.

Aina’s courageous front instantly dissolved. The reality of a six-foot-seven royal Alpha shifting into a monstrous wolf to rip her throat out snapped her right back to her senses.

Oh Goddess, I’m dead, she thought, taking three frantic, staggering steps backward into the frozen crowd. I slapped him twice! Why did I slap him twice?! One would have made the point!

1

Just as Malric raised a claws-tipped hand to spring forward, the heavy oak double doors of the dining hall burst open.

"What in the Goddess’s name is going on in here?"

The crowd of students instantly parted like the Red Sea, scrambling out of the middle aisle in sheer panic.

Three figures strode down the center of the hall. At the front was the Headmaster, and the moment Aina laid eyes on him, her brain temporarily halted its panic to register one simple fact. He was ridiculously and unfairly attractive.

He looked pale, like a vampire pale and had mature kind of stunning that set him apart from the brash, boyish look of the Princes. He exuded pure, refined authority, like a finely aged wine wrapped in high-end tailored wool.

His hair was pure white reaching his waist and his sharp red eyes swept over the room with dark, lazy amusement.

He wore a crisp charcoal suit, complete with a silver pocket watch chain loop that practically screamed ’devastatingly handsome.’

Flanking him were two instructors. On his left stood Professor Glod, a pale, sharp-featured woman with piercing brown eyes, carrying the bitter, pungent aroma of a rare deadly nightshade; she was the master of Poisons and Herbal Alchemy.

On his right was Professor Ling, a tall, gaunt man with round spectacles and a permanent scowl, holding a leather-bound ledger, the dreaded master of Advanced Mathematics.

Aina let out a massive sigh of relief. Oh thank the Moon, the adults are here! I’m not going to die!

Then, a sudden breeze tossed the Headmaster’s coat, sweeping his scent directly into her nose. It hit her like a lightning bolt the scent of the crisp mountain air, roasted espresso, and old parchment. It was rich, deep, and intoxicatingly masculine. Instantly, the invisible thread in her soul pulled tight, vibrating with violent intensity.

MATE.

Aina’s jaw dropped in absolute, horrifying realization.

WHAT?! her mind screamed in pure, hysterical agony. A THIRD ONE?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME, MOON GODDESS?! Is the whole damn faculty my fated too?! Take these broken men back right now!

1

She couldn’t even tell what the headmaster’s designation was. He didn’t radiate the aggressive, crushing aura of an Alpha like Malric, nor did he smell like a light Beta. He felt entirely unreadable, hidden beneath layers of terrifying, quiet power.

She was already mentally exhausted, bruised, and carrying a fake identity—she did not need a handsome, pale as fuck, headmaster added to her list of problems.

Headmaster Dofin—no, Headmaster Silvera? She didn’t even know his name, strode right up to the carnage. Without even batting an eye at the shattered porcelain, the spilled potatoes, or Malric’s mid-shift feral form, he reached out, grabbed Prince Malric by the back of his collar, and casually shoved the towering, half-shifted Alpha back three paces.

Malric stumbled, his wild crimson eyes snapping toward the Headmaster, but the sheer, effortless authority in the older man’s posture forced the prince’s fangs to retract.

The Headmaster’s eyes flicked over to Vance, who was still sitting on the floor covered in yellow mash, then finally settled on Aina in her ridiculous, oversized suit and atrocious bowl cut. A single, dark eyebrow raised slightly.

"You three," the Headmaster said, his voice a smooth, low baritone that commanded total silence without even lifting its volume. "In my office. Now."

He turned on his heel, his long wool coat swooping behind him as he marched back out of the dining hall, leaving Professors to restore order to the shell-shocked room.

Aina slumped her shoulders, her mood souring into a dark, impenetrable cloud as she fell into line behind the Headmaster. This is it. Day one and I’m getting expelled. All because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. Travis is going to kill me, my dad is going to skin me.

Beside her, Vance was desperately trying to get the mashed potatoes out of his ear, glaring at her with pure murder in his diamond eyes. "You and that horrific bowl cut are dead," he spat under his breath as they walked down the dim corridor. "You’re getting expelled, rat."

Aina didn’t even look at him, her voice dripping with lethal sarcasm. "Keep talking, dipshit, and I’ll give you a matching blue bruise on your mouth to go with the one forming on your forehead."

Vance’s eyes widened, and he instantly raised his voice to a loud, pathetic snitch tone. "Headmaster! He just threatened to assault me again!"

"Did not! He’s lying!" Aina shot back instantly.

From the front of the line, the Headmaster just let out a low, heavy grumble, shaking his head in quiet exhaustion as he kept walking, ignoring their bickering entirely. Meanwhile, Malric walked on the opposite side, silent as a grave.

But the air around him was vibrating with an terrifying, volcanic heat. He didn’t speak a word, but the sheer weight of his rage felt like walking next to a ticking nuclear bomb.

After five agonizing minutes of silent marching, they finally arrived at the grand, double-oak doors of the Headmaster’s office.

The Headmaster pushed the doors open, stepped into the opulent foyer, and turned back to face them. He pointed a sharp finger at the wooden bench sitting right outside his private inner office.

"You," he said, looking straight at Aina. "Sit down outside. Do not move. Do not speak."

He then grabbed Malric and Vance by their shirts and pulled them into the inner room. "You two, inside."

THUD.

The heavy inner office door slammed shut, leaving Aina entirely alone in the quiet, dim waiting area.

She collapsed onto the hard wooden bench, pulling her knees up against her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her forehead against her knees as her foot tapped a frantic, nervous rhythm against the floor.

Her mind was an absolute, tangled wreck.

Why did I do that? she chastised herself bitterly, digging her fingernails into her arms. Why couldn’t I just swallow my pride, eat the damn saliva-potatoes, and play the weak little boy?! I spent a whole two weeks preparing for this! I cut my hair, I ruined my eyes with these contacts, I ran away from home and I threw it all away in thirty seconds because some prince pushed me!

She closed her eyes tightly, tears of pure frustration pricking at the corners. The scents of the three men, leather, cedarwood, and deep espresso, seemed to linger in the dark hall, suffocating her, reminding her of the absolute mess she had waded into. She had ruined everything. She was going to be exposed, sent back home, and birth twenty babies.

Goddess, Aina thought, staring blankly at the dark mahogany door of the Headmaster’s office. Please just let me disappear.

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