Wolf Mated (Beta Wolf Academy Book 1) Read online

  Wolf Mated

  Beta Wolf Academy – Book I

  JJ King

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  ALSO WRITTEN BY JJ KING

  About the Author

  Copyright

  The characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are completely fiction and are in no way meant to represent real people or places.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Copyright © 2021 JJ King

  All rights reserved.

  Kindle Edition

  ISBN- 978-1-989794-14-2

  Dedication

  For my rabid readers. May the sexy men bring you joy.

  Acknowledgments

  Beta Wolf Academy is my first foray into the world of reverse harem, a world I never thought I’d venture into at all.

  It was the amazing work of some of my favorite authors that convinced me to give it a try, namely the unstoppable Eva Chase, the fantastic Elena Lawson, and the prolific Steffanie Holmes. If you haven’t read their work yet, go, now! It’s worth it. Believe me.

  Chapter 1

  Bright prismatic colors danced over my face, snatching me from a nightmare that covered my skin with slick sweat, and left my entire body trembling.

  I ripped the sheets from my body, tucked back into the corner of my bed, into the shadows, and wrapped my arms around my knees, whispering the words that chased away my demons, if only for a short while.

  “It’s not real. It’s just a nightmare. He’s dead.”

  My racing pulse slowed, one agonizing beat at a time, as the mantra sunk into my sleep-addled brain.

  It wasn’t real. I wasn’t in the mountain anymore. Raphael was dead.

  I blew out a deep breath and climbed to my feet, already feeling the dregs of my nightmare slip away like fog on a hot morning. I was in the mood for a shower, coffee, bacon, and waffles, in that order.

  Sugar would chase the rest of the darkness away, I thought, tossing my damp pajamas into the hamper and stepping into the shower.

  This week would be better. This week I would talk to people and engage. This week I would let the past go and embrace my new adventure as a freshman at Beta Wolf Academy.

  ♀♀♀

  I slipped into one of the only available seats left around the conference table that comprised my Philosophy 1000 class and pulled a notebook from my backpack, like a normal student.

  I’d made it through the first week of classes at Beta Wolf Academy without being expelled or outed as a freak, which should have been comforting, but it just made my deep-seeded anxiety about this entire experiment ratchet up a notch. It was just a matter of time before I messed up and someone found out that I didn’t belong here.

  “Did you do the reading for today?” a girl, whose name I thought might be Emily, whispered with a friendly smile.

  Was she being nice to me? Wow. We didn’t have assigned seating in any of my classes, and I hadn’t sat next to her during the first week, so the easy tone she used caught me off guard.

  “Um, yeah,” I said once I gathered my wits. “It was pretty good. Not as dry as the Immanuel Kant essay, thank the Old Ones.”

  I offered her a smile then ducked my head to open my book and retrieve a pen.

  To the class, I’m sure it looked as if I were just preparing for the professor’s arrival, but in reality, I was close to hyperventilating as I replayed each word of my response over and over in my mind, looking for a misstep.

  “Yeah,” she said, apparently not noticing my mortification. “Kant almost made my eyes bleed. I mean, it was pretty interesting once you grasped what he was saying, but it was like he was writing it in a different language.” She lifted her hands, as if in defeat, and shook her head. “It was English, and I recognized the individual words, but it was like they made no sense in the order he put them in. Don’t you think?”

  A laugh bubbled out of me, completely shocking my system. I’d had those exact same thoughts about the reading and no one to share them with.

  “That’s exactly what I thought,” I said, forcing myself to look her in the eye and smile, because that was the normal thing to do, or so I’d been told.

  Dr. Daniels entered the room just then, putting an end to our conversation, and sat at the head of the table, welcoming everyone with a wide grin. He was an older man, distinguished looking with salt-and-pepper hair and wire-rimmed glasses that did nothing to hide the keenly intelligent hazel eyes behind them. He embraced the whole professorial cliche, right down to the tweed jacket with elbow patches, but managed to make it look good. Of all my professors, he was my favorite.

  The fact that I might have a tiny crush on him probably had nothing to do with that.

  Today’s class discussion was based on Friedrich Nietzsche’s book, Beyond Good and Evil. The reading had been a small portion of it and had left me with only a glimpse into the man’s philosophy, but it had piqued my interest.

  “Can anyone tell me what Nietzsche thought of the concept of evil?” Dr. Daniels asked, interlocking his fingers and tapping them on his mouth.

  His gaze skimmed over most of my classmates and settled, disturbingly, on me.

  “Alexis,” he said with an encouraging wave of his hand. “What do you think?”

  My mouth went dry and my body seemed to gain instant mass, as if I’d just swallowed a lead block. It sat in my stomach, accompanied only by the churning acid that rose into my throat, making it even harder to reply. I reached into my bag for my bottle of water, hands shaking while everyone watched me with expectant gazes, and took a long sip.

  Too much time was passing; I could feel it thickening the air with tension, pushing me to the edge of my comfort zone, which wasn’t big to begin with. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. I could do this.

  “Nietzsche believed that the concept of evil is a dangerous one,” I said slowly, measuring each word. “He saw the potential of evil as a scapegoat to those with weak wills.”

  I chewed on my lip, thinking it over, then leaned forward and continued, too caught up in my interest in the topic to focus on the butterflies trying to destroy me from the inside out.

  “If evil is real, then it can infect people, like a disease, so that their responses are out of their control,” I said. “It removes responsibility from the evildoer.”

  Dr. Daniels nodded. “Yes! That’s it. And what do you think of his philosophy?”

  “I think,” I said, pressing a hand against my stomach to ground myself in the moment, “that evil does exist in this world but not in the way some people think. True evil is the choice we make to ignore the worth of life in exchange for our own greed or obsession.”

  What I wanted to say, but didn’t, was that I’d known true evil my entire life, looked into its eyes and seen the depths of darkness there.

  I sat
back with a jerk and lowered my gaze, remembering the lessons I’d received at the end of a fist or belt from early on.

  Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.

  You’re nothing; don’t forget it.

  Eyes down, little girl, or you’ll go back in the dark.

  Dr. Daniels moved onto the next person, asking questions, playing Devil’s advocate at times just to rev up the conversation. I appreciated the reprieve and kept silent while I regrouped and shoved those dark whisperings that I was nothing deep down in my gut where they belonged.

  My psychiatrist, Dr. Bennett, said my coping mechanism of pushing the darkness down wouldn’t work forever. It was a stopgap, at best, and one day the memories would become too strong and push to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged.

  They already took up far too much of my sleeping hours.

  The only thing that ever chased the nightmares away was dreams of a future I wasn’t sure would ever come true. Shadowy figures embracing me, defending me, making me feel loved. They were a nice fantasy, something to hold onto when the past gripped me tight and refused to let go, but I doubted I would ever find a mate.

  I swallowed, realizing I’d let myself get bogged down by the darkness that kept trying to spill out. I pushed harder, fighting back with every ounce of my strength, to deny Raphael even one more moment of my existence. I deserved to live, so I would fight for that.

  When Dr. Daniels began gathering up his things, I jolted in my seat. My gaze darted to the clock. The hour was already over?

  “The next reading is already up on the class website if you didn’t get the chance to write that down.” He looked around the room and stopped on me, the keen intelligence of his eyes flickering with worry.

  I forced myself to smile and hoped it looked natural. I practiced every morning in the mirror, so I was fairly confident it did. He moved on, so it must’ve worked.

  “I’m Emily, by the way. Love your hair,” my neighbor said with a cheery grin. She offered her hand and when I hesitantly met her palm with mine, she pumped enthusiastically.

  “Thanks. I’m Alexis, but everyone calls me Lexi.”

  My stomach clenched. If I wanted to be called Lexi, why did I tell her my name is Alexis? I could have just said Lexi. Be normal, I demanded of myself.

  Emily didn’t seem to notice, which settled the nerves in my stomach.

  “Cool,” she said, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. “See you next class.”

  “Later,” I said quietly, not sure what to feel.

  She’d been so friendly, part of me had thought that maybe she’d want to keep chatting or go for coffee. I liked coffee, especially with a lot of cream. I’d been afraid she would ask but, now that she was walking away, I was disappointed that she hadn’t. She’d probably sensed my awkwardness during class and didn’t want to spend her time with a weirdo.

  I resisted the urge to touch my newly pink hair and wondered how I’d thought dying my hair pink of all colors had been a good way to fit in and feel normal.

  Breathe, I told myself, doing so slowly. One breath, then two, as I slipped my notebook into my backpack. My next class wasn’t for a few hours, so I had time to do one of the things Dr. Bennett encouraged when I was feeling this way. I wasn’t in the mood for yoga or meditation right now, so I would go for a run, on two legs or four, and chase my demons away.

  The hallway was filled with students and faculty, bustling along from one class to another. I got caught up in the stampede of them. Where the hell had they come from? It was summer semester, which meant the campus was supposed to be calmer, less populated than normal.

  The press of bodies around me felt like a vise, squeezing my chest, and the pressure reached into me and ripped the darkness from their depths. But before I could do anything about it, I was being jostled and pushed into an open elevator.

  My breath caught in my chest, adding to the pressure until it felt like my lungs wouldn’t fill. My heart thundered, reminding me I was still alive, even if I was in pain. I held onto that thought and the metal railing behind me and forced myself to expel the stagnant air in my lungs then inhale fresh. My mind went on lockdown, focusing on one thing only: survival.

  Flashes of hands grabbing me, throwing me into the darkness, slamming the door behind me and locking it tight so that nothing I did would budge it.

  I curled my fingers as my mind replayed how I’d scraped my nails over the wood until blood left trails that did nothing but mark my existence and prove that I’d been there.

  The others in the elevator went on with their conversations or thoughts, never noticing me. I gripped the railing harder, wondering in a moment of stark clarity if my hands would leave indents in the metal. My awareness closed in around me like tunnel vision, until everyone in the small, cramped, metal deathtrap faded away and it was just me. Tears stung my eyes and maybe escaped, I didn’t know; I couldn’t feel my face or legs.

  The ding of the elevator stopping on the next floor broke through my invisible wall and slammed desperate hope into my chest. I raised my gaze and stared as the doors pulled apart, giving me a glimpse of freedom beyond. I wanted to go there, to push past the bodies in between, but it felt like a million miles, and my hands wouldn’t let go of the railing.

  I began to hyperventilate as people swarmed off the elevator, making space I desperately wanted to move into but couldn’t. I watched as the doors began to close, trapping me inside, and squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Hold the door,” a deep voice called out from beside me.

  Then hands, warm but firm, grasped mine and pried my fingers free of the metal. An arm came behind my back, gently but assuredly moving me forward, toward the open space beyond.

  My legs felt like water, unable to hold me up, and I stumbled as I stepped free of the elevator. That strong arm wrapped around my waist and the warm hand took my forearm, steering me away from the main hall into a small alcove decorated with pots of plants and tall trees, whose thick green leaves created a sanctuary of peace.

  I sank onto a bench, grateful for its presence because I would have fallen to the floor if it hadn’t been there. The hand on my forearm disappeared and fear clutched in my stomach so strongly that I shot my hand out blindly and grabbed before it could disappear.

  My vision widened, taking in the space around me, and focused on my savior as he sunk down next to me. He had dark eyes and rich dark skin and had a look I couldn’t decipher. It loosened the tightness in my chest, though, and slowed my racing heart as I stared into those fathomless depths.

  His lips, wide and strikingly beautiful, opened as he murmured soothing words that meant nothing until I could breathe, until the darkness receded, and it was just me and him and this little pocket of privacy in the midst of campus.

  “Just breathe,” he said, his deep voice rumbling from his chest with rounded edges that could only be French. “There you go. You’re alright.”

  He smiled, and my breath caught once more. This time it wasn’t from panic or fear or memories of the past that immobilized me. My skin went hot with awareness, and an ache—so unfamiliar it startled me—burst to life in my core. I squeezed my thighs together, embarrassed that my sudden attraction would be evident in the shift of my scent.

  I swallowed and found my voice.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, then licked my dry lips with the tip of my tongue.

  His gaze flicked to my mouth then back up, and in his eyes, I noticed a flash of emotion that made my heart clench.

  “I’m Lexi,” I murmured, unable to think of anything else to say but desperately wanting to say something that would keep him by my side.

  He smiled, soft and sweet, and slid his palm into mine. “I’m Lucian.”

  I opened and closed my mouth, wanting to ask why he seemed so familiar with panic attacks, then realized I must look like a fish and lowered my head to stare at my clasped hands.

  For a moment, neither of us spoke. The noise from the hallway as students m
oved from one area to the next covered the awkwardness, but soon they disappeared, and all was silent.

  “There’s something powerful about the breath,” Lucian murmured softly, his vowels rolling off his tongue. “If we hold it, it paralyzes us, but if we breathe through the moment—”

  I glanced up, surprised at his words. They were so philosophical, so out of place in a conversation with a stranger, yet they were exactly what I needed to hear to remember my meditation techniques. I focused on my breath now, pulling it in through my nose, letting it cycle through me, gathering up all the negative feelings, then pushing it out slowly through my mouth.

  When my pulse was back to normal, or as normal as it could be considering that his presence next to me was making my heart flutter, I sat up straight. “How did you know?”

  I didn’t explain what I meant; I didn’t need to.

  “I used to get panic attacks,” he said, keeping his voice low and his beautiful eyes locked on mine. “It’s been a while since my last one, but I remember the fear that comes with it.”

  His fingers touched my hand, covering it so lightly it felt like butterfly wings.

  My heart began to thunder again.

  “I could feel you—” Lucian broke off with a ragged sigh as his phone began to ring.

  For a moment, I thought he would throw the entire phone away, but then he glanced down at the screen and frowned. He pulled his hand back from mine and pushed to his feet, leaving me feeling inexplicably bereft.