"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."

Mazikeen

Atlas’s words hung in the heavy, burning air of the dorm room. You don't feel like a boy.

Panic exploded in my chest. I shoved both of my hands against his scorching shoulders and pushed with every ounce of strength I had. His fever made him sloppy. He lost his balance and rolled off me with a loud, pained groan, hitting the carpeted floor hard.

I scrambled backward until my spine hit the cold wall. My chest heaved violently.

"Get away from me!" I yelled, my voice cracking.

Atlas gripped his head, his knuckles turning white. His breathing was rugged, completely out of control. His icy blue eyes flashed a bright, dangerous gold for a fraction of a second his wolf fighting to take over the rut.

"Get out," he snarled, his voice dropping into a terrifying, guttural pitch. "Get out of here before I lose my mind and mark you myself, Thorne. Run."

I didn't need to be told twice. I grabbed my oversized hoodie from the floor, threw open the heavy door, and bolted out into the freezing hallway. I didn't stop running until I reached the empty locker rooms at the ice arena.

I locked myself in a bathroom stall and curled my knees to my chest. I let out a deep, shaky sigh, burying my face in my hands. He knew. Atlas definitely suspected something. If I made one wrong move on the ice today, he would tear the jersey right off my back and expose me to the entire pack. And then my mother would be thrown into the streets.

I waited until the sun started to rise before I stepped out to prep my gear.

The locker room was empty, smelling faintly of wax and old sweat. I sat on the bench, silently wrapping black tape around the blade of my hockey stick. My hands were still trembling.

"Look who's here. The runt."

I froze. I slowly looked up.

Damon, the left-winger for our team, stood in the doorway with two of his massive friends. Damon hated Jace. He had hated him since we were kids. He had a cruel face and a reputation for deliberately injuring players during the regionals.

"What do you want, Damon?" I muttered, keeping my voice low. "Practice doesn't start for an hour."

"I want you off my line," Damon sneered. He walked over, his heavy boots echoing on the rubber mat. "You cost us the championship last year, Jace. You are weak. You are a complete joke to this pack."

"Take it up with Coach," I said, standing up. I tried to walk past him, but his friend shoved me hard in the chest. I stumbled back, hitting the metal lockers.

"We are taking it up with you," Damon growled. He snatched my freshly taped stick right out of my hands. He raised his knee and snapped the expensive carbon fiber stick perfectly in half.

"Hey!" I yelled. "Are you crazy?"

Damon dropped the broken pieces at my feet. He grabbed the front of my jersey, slamming me against the lockers again. The metal handle dug painfully into my spine.

"I loosened the bolts on your skate blades this morning," Damon whispered with an evil smile. "When Atlas checks you into the boards today, your skates are going to snap. You are going to break your ankles, Jace. And then Vanderbilt will finally kick your pathetic ass out of Northbridge for good."

My stomach turned completely upside down. He tampered with my skates? If I went on the ice at those speeds, I could be killed.

"You are a coward, Damon," I spat at him.

Damon’s eyes darkened. He raised his fist to punch me.

"Touch him, and I will break your arm in three places."

Damon froze. We all looked toward the door.

Eros was leaning casually against the doorframe, a bright green apple in his hand. He took a slow bite, his golden eyes completely cold and deadly as he stared at Damon.

"Eros," Damon stammered, instantly letting go of my jersey. "We were just talking."

"It didn't look like talking," Eros said. He threw the apple core into the trash can and walked over. The alpha energy rolling off him made Damon’s friends immediately step back in submission. "Get out of my locker room, Damon. If I catch you near Thorne again, I will personally strip you of your rank."

Damon swallowed hard, nodding quickly. He and his friends rushed out the door like terrified pups.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, sliding down slightly against the lockers. "Thank you. He broke my stick."

Eros looked down at the broken pieces. His expression softened, and that charming, kind smile returned to his face. "Don't worry about it. Come with me to the back equipment room. I have a spare stick you can use."

"Are you sure? Atlas might get mad if—"

"Atlas is locked in his room dealing with a nasty rut," Eros interrupted gently. "He won't be on the ice today. You are safe, Jace. Come on."

A wave of massive relief washed over me. No Atlas today. I could actually breathe.

I followed Eros out of the locker room and down the dark, narrow hallway that led to the equipment storage. It was a small room filled with spare pads, helmets, and a heavy scent of freshly sharpened steel.

I walked in to look at the rack of sticks.

Click.

I turned around. Eros had just shut the heavy metal door. He slid the deadbolt into place.

"Eros?" I asked, my voice suddenly very small. "Why did you lock the door?"

Eros didn't answer right away. He just stood there staring at me. His breathing was starting to get heavy. The kind, warm smile completely melted off his face, replaced by something dark, hungry, and entirely predatory.

The air in the small room suddenly changed. The smell of pine grew incredibly strong, mixing with a thick, musky scent that made my inner wolf whimper in pure panic.

He was in rut, too.

"Eros, open the door," I said, taking a step back until my hips hit the equipment table.

"Atlas is an idiot," Eros whispered. He took a slow step toward me. "He is so blinded by his own anger that he can't even see what is standing right in front of him."

"I don't know what you are talking about. I just need a stick."

"No, you don't." Eros took another step, trapping me between the table and his solid body. He reached out, his hot fingers lightly brushing against the side of my neck.

I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!"

Eros chuckled, a dark, vibrating sound. He grabbed both of my wrists with one hand and pinned them to the table behind my back. He leaned in so close his lips brushed my ear.

"You don't have an Adam's apple," Eros murmured softly. "Your waist is too soft under that bulky jersey. And you smell like sweet vanilla and pure, terrified female."

A tear slipped down my cheek. I was caught. It was all over.

"Please," I begged, my voice breaking. "Please don't tell Atlas. My mom is sick. If I lose this spot, they will throw us out. Please, Eros, I thought you were kind."

"I am kind," Eros said smoothly. His nose traced my jawline, inhaling deeply. His body was burning hot against mine. "I won't tell Atlas a single word. I will keep your little secret, Mazikeen."

I gasped. He knew my real name.

"But silence isn't free," Eros whispered darkly, his golden eyes dropping to my lips. "I am in rut. And you are going to help me through it."

"No," I choked out, trying to thrash against his grip, but he was too strong.

Eros smirked, entirely wicked and ruthless. "If you don't want the Alpha King to find out his favorite punching bag is a girl... you are going to sleep with me. Right here. Right now."