Claimed By The King(s) Of Kings

Aina

The heavy mahogany door swung open with a slow, agonizing groan. Headmaster Roiner step onto the threshold, his cool, unreadable gaze sweeping over the waiting area before settling on the trembling figure huddled on the bench.

"Kid," Roiner said softly, his deep voice slicing through the tense air. "You may come in now."

Aina’s heart slammed against her ribs so hard she could feel her chest ache.

Her knees were shaking so violently she was convinced they would buckle, she pushed herself up from the hard wooden seat. She swallowed down the thick lump of fear rising in her throat and forced her feet to move, following the towering vampire into the dimly lit, suffocatingly quiet office.

I am so dead.

"Take a seat," he murmured, rounding his massive desk and sinking smoothly into his leathery chair.

Aina pulled out the chair opposite him and sat, her mind a complete, catastrophic train wreck. She gripped the fabric of her oversized trousers, her hands cold and clammy. Why did I do it? Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? She kept repeating the thought over and over in her head, a desperate, frantic loop of pure regret.

If she had just swallowed her pride, if she had just let those arrogant royal princes bully her into submission, without throwing that stupid plate of mashed potatoes, she wouldn’t be sitting here under trial. She would still be hidden. She would still be safe.

An awkward, heavy silence settled over the room. Roiner leaned back, crossing his pale hands, his dark, ancient eyes simply staring at her. Seconds stretched into an agonizing eternity until he finally spoke.

"Now, tell me..." Roiner began, his voice calm, almost conversational. "Why are you pretending to be a boy?"

Aina’s heart thumped uncontrollably in her chest, a deafening drumbeat in her ears. She lost it completely. Her mind went wild, screaming in absolute panic. How does he know? How could he possibly know? My scent is completely masked! My hair is hidden! My clothes—

"W-what are you talking about, Sir?" Aina stammered out, forcing her voice down into a husky, desperate pitch, trying to look offended. "I’m a boy. I’m an Alpha!"

Roiner let out a low, soft laugh. The sound rippled through the quiet room soundingly surprisingly warm. "Child, I have lived for

over three hundred years. Best believe I know the difference between a young man and a girl."

The laugh was so disarmingly warm that for a split second, Aina forgot the sheer terror of her situation. A strange, heady rush swept through her veins, a sudden pull that made her want to just melt right into the sound of his voice, the voice of her fated mate. But the cold reality of her situation slammed back into her hard enough to make her flinch, and she yanked her frantic thoughts back under control.

Roiner turned his attention toward the laptop resting on his desk, his pale fingers scrolling slowly through the bright screen.

"It says here on your file that you are Travis Whitelock," Roiner read aloud, his eyes tracking the text. "A tall, dominant Alpha. Six-foot-one." He paused, looking over the top of the screen to meet her wide, terrified eyes. "You are no Alpha. I have no idea what you actually are, but I know for a fact you are not an Alpha. And neither are you Travis Whitelock." He closed the laptop with a quiet click. "So be honest with me. Who are you?"

Aina. I’m Aina. But I can’t tell him that.

Seeing that the situation was entirely out of her control, that the fragile illusion had been shattered beyond repair, Aina’s shoulders slouched in defeat. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she whispered, "I’m not him. I’m not Travis Whitelock, you are right."

Roiner listened, his face impassive, and gave a slow nod. "I see. Well, in that case, I have no choice but to expel you. You will be cleared out and off academy grounds by morning."

The words hit her like a physical blow. Tears spilled over her lashes, hot and fast, tracing trails down her face. Aina lunged forward, leaning heavy across the polished wooden desk, her hands grasping the edge as she begged him.

"No! Please! I can’t go back!" she sobbed out, her voice cracking with pure desperation. "I can’t go back, I don’t want to go back! Please, you don’t understand!"

"Compose yourself, ma’am," Roiner commanded coldly, not flinching from her sudden movement. "It is Academy rules. They cannot be bent to anyone’s will and quite frankly, you are lucky that I am choosing not to call the authorities on you for identity theft." Said the man that has bent the rules for multiple generations of princes.

Aina pulled back, burying her face in her trembling hands as her mind screamed at her. Aina You fool! You absolute fool! How could she let something like this happen? She hadn’t even been on campus for a single day—not even twenty-four hours—and she had already managed to get caught. Her mind raced at a dangerous speed, desperately hunting for a lifeline, a trick, a miracle. Anything to keep her in this school. The girl was desperate

Roiner lifted a hand, his long fingers reaching out to grab the office telephone handset on the desk. "I am going to contact your parents now. All of this will be sorted out quietly. They will collect you, and as promised, I won’t involve the law."

He began to lift the receiver.

"I’m Aina Whitelock!" she blurted out at the top of her lungs. At this point she was grasping at straws playing every trick in the book.

I can’t go back.

Roiner paused, holding the telephone, circling the cord with his finger.

"I’m the girl from the news," Aina cried out, her breath hitching wildly. "The one they’ve been broadcasting everywhere! My family... my stepfamily is trying to force me to become a breeder for a horribly cruel Alpha! They were going to sell me off! That’s why I took Travis’s acceptance letter! That’s why I came here!"

When all else fails, tell the truth.

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