Mazikeen

The scent of stale sweat and expensive leather always made me want to vomit. I kept my chin tucked low, the hood of my oversized jacket pulled forward as I waved the crowded hallway of Northbridge Academy. Every person who brushed past me felt like a threat, a potential witness to the lie I was wearing like a second skin.

"Thorne! Move your pathetic ass!"

A shoulder slammed into mine, sending me reeling into the cold stone wall. I grunted, the impact rattling my bound ribs. I didn't look up to see who it was. In this place, it didn't matter. Everyone was bigger, stronger, and meaner than what I was pretending to be.

"I'm talking to you, runt."

A hand gripped the front of my hoodie, dragging me upward until my toes barely touched the floor. I finally looked up, staring into the face of my nightmare.

Atlas Vanderbilt.

He looked like he’d been carved out of a dark, jagged cliffside. His hair was a mess of dark ink, his eyes a blue so pale they were almost white. Tattoos climbed up his neck, disappearing under the collar of his varsity jacket. He smelled like winter air.

"Jace isn't home right now," I croaked fearfully, forgetting I was supposed to be Jace. I gasped and hoped he didn't hear that.

Atlas sneered, his grip tightening. "You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face after you choked at the scrimmage yesterday. You’re the reason the Northbridge rank is dropping. You’re a stain on this pack’s reputation."

"Then kick me off the team," I challenged, the fear in my gut turning into a cold, hard knot of defiance.

Atlas laughed, and the sound was like glass breaking. He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against mine.

"And lose my favorite punching bag? Not a chance. I’m going to make sure this tournament is the worst two weeks of your miserable life."

He shoved me back, and I hit the lockers with a dull thud. My chest ached, the binder digging into my skin with every shallow breath I took.

"Atlas, honey, don't waste your breath on that boy."

A girl with platinum blonde hair and a smile that looked like a razor blade stepped up beside him. Catelyn. The Alpha’s sister and the undisputed queen of the academy's social ladder. She looked at me with pure disgust, as if I were something she’d found on the bottom of her shoe.

"He’s pathetic," Catelyn said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

"Why is he even allowed to breathe the same air as us? Look at him. He’s trembling."

"He’s a Thorne," Atlas said, his eyes never leaving mine. "They’re born to tremble."

"I heard his mother is finally losing the fight," Catelyn added, stepping closer to me. She reached out, flicking the brim of my beanie.

"Maybe if you weren't so busy being a failure, she’d have a reason to live. It must be exhausting, knowing you’re the reason your family is a joke."

I clenched my fists inside my pockets, my nails biting into my palms. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell her that I was doing more for my family than she ever would. But I stayed silent. Jace would have stayed silent.

"Get to the barracks, Thorne," Atlas commanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. "If you’re a second late for the meeting, I’ll personally throw your gear into the lake. Along with you."

They walked away, their laughter echoing down the hall. I waited until they were gone before I let out the breath I’d been holding. My hands were shaking.

I made my way to the dorms, my heart sinking as I looked at the room assignment board. I’d been praying for a single. I’d been praying for a miracle.

Room 101: Atlas Vanderbilt & Jace Thorne.

The air left my lungs in a sharp hiss. It was a setup. There was no way this was a coincidence. Atlas had requested this. He wanted me where he could see me, where he could break me in private.

I walked to the room, my boots heavy on the carpet. I pushed the door open, hoping he wasn't there yet.

He was.

Atlas was sitting on the edge of his bed, his shirt off, showing the sprawling ink that covered his back and shoulders. He was cleaning a hockey blade, the metal glinting in the dim light of the room. He didn't look up when I entered.

"Close the door, Thorne," he said.

I did as I was told, locking it behind me. The room felt tiny, the walls closing in on me. The scent of him was everywhere, suffocating and masculine.

"This is your side," he said, gesturing to a narrow cot in the corner. "Don't touch my stuff. Don't look at me. And if you make a sound while I’m sleeping, you’ll regret it."

"Fine by me," I muttered, heading for my bed.

I sat down, the spring groaning under my weight. I needed to change. I needed to get out of these wet clothes and re-bind my chest, but I couldn't do it with him sitting there like a gargoyle.

"What are you waiting for?" Atlas asked, finally looking up. His gaze was intense, stripping away my layers until I felt naked.

"I... I like to change in the bathroom," I said.

Atlas smirked, a cruel, knowing look. "Since when? We’ve been in the same locker room for three years, Thorne. Don't tell me you’ve suddenly grown a pair of modesty wings."

"I'm just tired, Atlas. Drop it."

He stood up, his massive frame blocking the light from the window. He walked toward me, each step deliberate. I backed up until I hit the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"You're acting weird," he whispered, leaning one hand against the wall beside my head.

"Even for you. You’re smaller. Your voice is off. And you haven't looked me in the eye once today."

"Maybe I'm just sick of your face," I snapped.

Atlas’s eyes darkened. He reached out, his hand hovering near my throat. I flinched, closing my eyes, waiting for the blow.

It didn't come.

Instead, I felt his fingers brush against the collar of my hoodie, tugging at the fabric.

"What are you hiding, Jace?"

Before I could answer, the door to the suite burst open.

"Atlas! The coach is calling a flash meeting on the rink! Now!"

Atlas didn't move for a long second, his eyes boring into mine. Then, he pulled away, grabbing his shirt from the bed.

"This isn't over," he said, pointing a finger at me. "Move. Now."

I followed him out, my head spinning. I had to get through this. I had to stay focused.

The rink was freezing, the mist rising off the ice in ghostly sheets. The entire team was lined up.

"Listen up!" the coach barked. "We’ve had a security breach. Someone’s been leaking our playbooks to the rival packs. Until we find out who the rat is, no one leaves the campus. And that means full-time barracks supervision."

My stomach dropped. No leaving? No going home to see my mom?

"Vanderbilt," the coach said, looking at Atlas. "You’re in charge of the North barracks. If anyone does anything wrong, I want to know."

"Count on it," Atlas said, his eyes sliding to me.

The meeting ended, and the guys started dispersing. I tried to slip away, but a hand caught the back of my jersey.

"Not so fast, Thorne."

It was Atlas. He leaned down, his voice a cold whisper in my ear.

"I just realized why you don't want to change in front of me."

I froze.

"You’re bruised, aren't you?" he asked, his voice unexpectedly low. "From the scrimmage. You’re hiding an injury so you don't get cut from the team."

I let out a shaky breath, nodding quickly. "Yeah. It's bad. I don't want the coach to see."

Atlas let go of my jersey, but he didn't move away. He looked at me with something that wasn't quite pity, but wasn't pure hatred either.

"Show me," he said.

"What?"

"Show me the bruise, Thorne. If it’s as bad as you say, I’ll decide if you’re fit to play. Lift your shirt."

I stared at him, the world tilting on its axis.

"I said, lift your shirt. Now."

"If you don't lift that shirt in three seconds, Thorne, I'll rip it off you myself."

"I told you, it's just a bruise, Atlas. It's fine." I gripped the hem of my oversized hoodie, my heart felt like it was going to explode.

"I don't care what you told me. You're slowing down the line. You're dragging the pack's reputation through the mud because you can't take a hit." He took another step, his chest almost brushing my nose. "Show me. Now."

"Why do you even care?" I croaked, trying to keep my voice from trembling. "You hate me. You've spent the last three years making my life a living hell. Why the sudden interest in my health?"

Atlas let out a dry, humorless laugh. He leaned down, his face so close I could see the tiny scar cutting through his left eyebrow. "I don't care about your health, runt. I care about the tournament. If you're useless and going to be a burden, I need to know so I can cut you loose before the first puck drops."

"I'm not dead weight."

"Then prove it. Lift the shirt."

My hands were trembling. If I lifted it, the binder was right there. The thick, white compression fabric would give everything away in a second. He'd know Jace was a girl. He'd know the Thornes were liars.

"I... I have a skin condition," I blurted out. "It's gross. You don't want to see it."

Atlas's eyes narrowed into slits. "A skin condition? That's the best you've got? You're a terrible liar, Thorne."

He reached out, his hand moving faster than I could react. His fingers caught the edge of my hoodie.

"Stop!" I hissed, shoving his hand away.

The room went deathly silent. No one shoved Atlas Vanderbilt.

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening. For a second, I thought he was going to snap my neck.

"You've got a lot of nerve."

"Just leave me alone, Atlas! I'll be on the ice tomorrow. I'll play. Just... stay out of my space."

He stepped back, but he didn't look finished. He looked like he was solving a puzzle he didn't like. "You smell... weird."

My blood ran cold. "What?"

"You smell like an Omega in heat," he growled, his nostrils flaring as he leaned in again, sniffing the air near my neck. "Sweet. Like vanilla and panic. Why the hell do you smell like a girl, Thorne?"

"I told you! It's my mom's laundry detergent! She... she uses a lot of it."

"Liar," he whispered.

He grabbed my chin, his long fingers pressing painfully into my jaw. His tattoos seemed to shift under his skin as his muscles coiled tight.

"You think you can play games with me? I run this academy. I run this pack. If I find out you're hiding something that compromises my rink, I will tear you apart."

"I am not hiding anything," I lied again, staring directly into those icy blue eyes. My inner wolf was whining, desperate to submit to his overwhelming Alpha aura, but I forced my human side to hold his gaze.

"We will see about that," Atlas sneered. He dropped his hand in pure disgust and turned his back to me.

"Sleep with one eye open, runt. Tomorrow on the ice, I am going to break you myself."

He grabbed his keys and walked out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook.

I collapsed onto my narrow bed, gasping for the air I had been too terrified to breathe. He was too close. One more second and he would have noticed the lack of an Adam's apple.

The morning frost of the Scottish Highlands coated the academy windows. I kept my head down as I walked toward the cafeteria, my duffel bag slung over my shoulder.

"Well, if it isn't the pack's biggest disappointment."

I stopped. Catelyn was leaning against the stone archway, surrounded by three of his giggling followers. She wore a pristine Northbridge blazer, her blonde hair falling in perfect waves. She looked like an angel, but her heart was pure venom.

"Move, Catelyn," I muttered, trying to walk past her.

She stepped in my way, her perfectly manicured hand pressing hard into my injured chest. I flinched, biting my lip to keep from crying out.

"Aw, did I hurt the little baby?" she mocked, a cruel smile twisting her lips. "I don't know why you even bother showing up, Jace. You are a complete joke. Your entire family is a joke."

"Leave my family out of this."

Catelyn laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. "Why? Because your mom is rotting away in that cheap clinic? We all know she is dying. And honestly, it is for the best. She gave birth to a weak, pathetic runt who can't even hold his own on the ice. She should be put out of her misery."

My vision went red. I took a step toward her, my fists clenched. "Shut your mouth."

"Or what?" Catelyn challenged, her eyes flashing with pure malice. "You will hit me? You don't have the guts. You are nothing but trash, Thorne. You don't belong in this pack. You are just a stray dog taking up space in my brother's academy."

“You know for some reason I'm beginning to think you have a crush on me.”

“Oh, you wish!”she screamed looking offended.

She bumped her shoulder hard against mine as she walked past, leaving me standing in the cold hallway, shaking with rage and unshed tears. She was right about one thing. I didn't belong here. But I had to stay. For my mother.

The ice was brutally cold. I skated in a tight circle, trying to keep my legs warm. The rest of the team was already doing drills. Atlas was at the center of the rink, a dark, terrifying king surveying his territory.

"Line up!" Atlas roared, slamming his stick against the ice.

We all scrambled to the blue line.

"Thorne," Atlas called out, his voice echoing in the empty arena. "Get out here."

My stomach dropped. I skated forward slowly, stopping a few feet away from him.

"You said you weren't dead weight last night," Atlas said, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "Prove it. One on one drills. Just you and me."

The rest of the guys muttered to each other. A one on one drill with Atlas wasn't practice. It was an execution.

"Drop the puck," Atlas ordered the assistant captain.

The black rubber hit the ice. I lunged for it, but Atlas was faster. He didn't even go for the puck. He went for me.

His shoulder collided with my chest, right over my binder. The impact was like getting hit by a freight train. I flew backward, crashing hard onto the ice. The breath left my lungs in a violent rush.

"Get up!" Atlas yelled, skating a tight circle around me. "You are pathetic, Thorne. Get up and fight like a wolf!"

I gritted my teeth, tasting blood in my mouth. I forced myself onto my knees, my chest burning in sheer agony.

"Is that all you've got?" I challenged, my voice hoarse.

Atlas's eyes darkened. "Wrong answer."

He skated at me again, faster this time. He slammed me into the boards. The fiberglass rattled loudly. He pinned me there, his stick pressed hard against my collarbone.

"You are weak," he growled right in my face. "You don't deserve the Northbridge jersey. You don't deserve to be in my pack."

"I am not giving up," I whispered back, glaring at him.

He stared at me, his icy blue eyes searching mine. The hatred in his gaze was suffocating, but underneath it, there was that same dangerous confusion from last night. His nose twitched. He was smelling the vanilla again.

"You infuriate me," he muttered, his grip on his stick tightening.

"Everything about you is wrong."

"Then dismiss me."

"Never."

The tension between us was thick. For a second, he just stared at my lips, his breathing heavy and uneven.

Suddenly, the loud screech of the coach's whistle pierced the air.

"Vanderbilt! Thorne! Off the ice!" Coach Miller barked from the penalty box.

Atlas slowly backed away, but he kept his eyes locked on mine. "This is not over."

I skated off the ice, my entire body shaking. I headed straight for the locker room, desperate to get away from him, to check if my binder had shifted during the brutal hit.

I pushed into the empty locker room and leaned against the cold metal lockers, unzipping my heavy jersey with trembling fingers. I just needed to breathe for one second. I kept my jersey tightly wrapped around me, trying to steady my racing heart.

I didn't hear the door open.

"Forgot my water bottle."

The deep, gravelly voice sent a shock of pure terror straight to my core.

I spun around. Atlas was standing in the doorway. He locked the metal door behind him.

He walked toward me, his eyes dark and completely calculating.

"You think you survived today, Thorne?" he asked softly.

"I am still standing."

"Not for long." He stopped inches from me. "Coach just updated the tournament requirements. There is a rumor of recruits using illegal steroids to cheat the pack rankings."

My heart completely stopped.

Atlas smiled, a cruel, wicked curve of his lips that promised absolute destruction.

"Every single player is getting a mandatory, full-body physical exam by the pack doctor tonight," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

"And I am personally escorting you to the clinic at midnight. Don't be late."

Mazikeen

The cold bathroom tiles dug into my knees. I pressed the cheap burner phone hard against my ear, praying someone would answer. The dial tone mocked me for three long rings before a sharp voice answered.

"What do you want, Jace?" Aunt Sarah snapped. Her tone was dripping with pure venom.

"It is me," I whispered. I kept my voice incredibly low so the guys in the hallway wouldn't hear. "How is Mom? Did she take her meds today?"

"Your mother is a burden," Sarah spat out. "She coughed up blood all morning and ruined my good towels. You Thornes are nothing but parasites. If you don't send the clinic money by Friday, I am throwing her out into the streets."

The line went dead.

I let out a deep sigh, dropping my forehead against the stall door. My chest violently ached against the tight compression binder. I was doing all of this for my mom, putting my entire life on the line every single second, and she was still treated like dirt by our own blood. I wiped a stray tear from my cheek and shoved the phone into my pocket. I had to survive tonight.

I stepped out of the bathroom and bumped right into a solid wall of muscle.

Atlas grabbed the collar of my jersey. His knuckles brushed against my collarbone, sending a jolt of terror straight through me.

"Did you think you could hide in the bathroom all night?" he growled. His breath was hot and smelled like peppermint and pure rage. "It is midnight, Thorne. Time for your physical."

"I am not going." My voice shook terribly.

"You don't have a choice." Atlas dragged me down the hallway.

"I am going to enjoy watching the doctor declare you unfit. You are going to be stripped of that jersey by morning."

The academy clinic smelled like bleach and sterile needles. The pack doctor looked up from his clipboard. He had cold, unfeeling eyes that made my stomach churn.

"Vanderbilt," the doctor nodded at Atlas. "Is this the recruit?"

"Yes," Atlas sneered. He shoved me forward. "Check his ribs. Check his blood. Find out why he plays like a frightened little girl."

The doctor pointed to the exam table. "Shirt off, Thorne. Let us take a look."

My blood froze in my veins. I stood completely still. If I took off the jersey, they would see the binder. They would know everything. The penalty for lying to an Alpha was death.

"Take it off," Atlas ordered. He crossed his arms over his massive chest. His dark tattoos shifted under the harsh fluorescent lights. "Stop wasting my time, runt."

My fingers hovered over the hem of my shirt. I closed my eyes. This was the end. I had failed.

The clinic door suddenly burst open.

"Atlas!"

We all turned around. Eros stood in the doorway. He was out of breath, his blonde hair messy and falling into his eyes. He looked incredibly handsome, a sharp and bright contrast to the dark, suffocating energy Atlas brought into the room.

"What is it, Eros?" Atlas snapped. He looked absolutely furious at the interruption.

"The rival team from Eastbridge," Eros said quickly, looking dead serious. "They just broke into our locker room. They are smashing the hockey sticks and tearing up the ice. Coach wants you down there right now to handle it."

Atlas cursed loudly. He looked at me, his icy blue eyes full of heavy suspicion. "You got lucky tonight. This physical is happening tomorrow. Count on it."

Atlas stormed out of the clinic.

I let out a huge breath, my knees almost giving out completely. I grabbed the edge of the exam table to keep from collapsing.

Eros stayed behind for a second. He looked at me and offered a soft, gentle smile. "Get out of here, Jace. Go back to the dorm before he realizes the gear was already being replaced anyway."

"Thank you," I whispered. My heart did a weird flutter. Eros was actually nice. He was a predator just like the rest of them, but tonight, he was different. I felt drawn to that warm smile.

I went straight back to the dorm room and locked the door tight. Hours passed in pure silence. It was three in the morning when the lock finally clicked open.

Atlas stumbled inside. He looked completely different.

His skin was flushed a deep, angry red. Sweat dripped down his neck and soaked his shirt. He leaned heavily against the doorframe, his breathing ragged and wildly uneven. The room instantly filled with the heavy, intoxicating scent of burnt cedar and dark spices. It was so strong it made my head spin.

He was in rut.

"Atlas?" I asked softly from my narrow cot.

"Shut up," he snarled. His voice was much deeper than usual, almost demonic. "Don't look at me. Look away from me right now."

He tore his shirt off, throwing it to the floor. His broad chest heaved up and down. He looked like a wild beast fighting a cage.

"Are you okay?" I asked. I couldn't help it. He was being so cruel to me, but his fever looked terrifying. He was trembling violently.

"I told you to shut your mouth!" he roared. He slammed his huge fist right into the wall. The plaster cracked under his knuckles. "You disgust me. You are weak and pathetic. Stay on your side of the room before I break your neck."

He collapsed onto his bed, groaning in pure agony. The heat radiating from his body was reaching my side of the room.

I bit my lip hard. If his fever got any higher, it could trigger a fatal wolf seizure. I hated him. I truly did. He was a bully and a tyrant. But I couldn't just sit here and let him die in the dark.

I grabbed the plastic pitcher of cold water from the mini fridge. I poured a glass and slowly, carefully walked over to his bed.

"Atlas," I whispered gently. "Just drink this. It will help cool you down."

"I said get away!"

He lashed out blindly. His large hand hit the glass, sending it shattering into pieces all over the floor. Before I could even step back, his hands grabbed my waist.

I gasped loudly.

He pulled me down hard. We tumbled right onto his mattress. I landed flat on my back, and within a split second, his massive, scorching hot body was hovering directly over me. He pinned both of my wrists above my head with just one of his hands.

My heart hammered violently against my ribs. We were pressed together from chest to knee. I could feel every single hard line of his body. The intense heat of his skin was burning right through my clothes.

Atlas buried his face deep into the crook of my neck. He inhaled sharply. His hot breath sent a massive shiver straight down my spine.

"Vanilla," he groaned against my bare skin. His voice was thick with lust and heavy confusion. "Why do you smell so damn sweet?"

"Let me go," I pleaded. My voice was a tiny, breathless whisper. I was absolutely terrified, but my traitorous body was reacting to his touch in ways I couldn't control.

Atlas slowly lifted his head. His icy blue eyes were completely black with raw desire. He traced his rough thumb over my bottom lip, his gaze dropping to my mouth.

"You don't act like a boy," Atlas whispered, his face inching closer to mine until our lips almost brushed. "And you definitely don't feel like one."