Chapter 129
Kara
The hallway stretched before us like a gauntlet.
Blake's hand splayed possessively across my lower back, his fire-and-gunpowder scent spiking hot and aggressive in the confined space. Students pressed themselves against lockers as we passed, their heads bowing instinctively, nostrils flaring as they registered the Alpha cutting through their midst.
I wanted to shrink. To hunch my shoulders and make myself small the way I had for ten years—invisible, unthreatening, not worth noticing.
Fuck, I hate this. I hate being looked at.
Blake felt the tension coil through my spine.
He stopped walking.
Right there in the middle of the hallway, with twenty pairs of eyes tracking our every breath, he cupped my chin and tilted my face up. His blue eyes burned into mine, molten and unyielding.
"Lift your head, baby. You're a Luna. You don't bow to anyone."
His voice was soft enough to sound tender. Loud enough for every wolf in earshot to hear.
Heat crawled up my neck. Around us, the whispers started—a hiss of fascination and envy that made my skin prickle. I could feel their stares like hands on my body, dissecting me, reducing me to a single label: Blake's.
Not Kara. Not the girl who'd survived this school for years unnoticed.
Just... his.
God damn it. This is exactly what I was afraid of.
My wolf preened under the claiming, the traitorous bitch practically rolling over for his dominance. My human side wanted to bolt—to run screaming back to that storage room where at least I'd been mine, even if I'd been miserable.
At least when they ignored me, I still existed. Now I'm just an accessory.
"Kara!"
Sophia's voice cut through the spiral of self-loathing. She and Emma shoved through the crowd, their expressions split between worry and excitement. Sophia threw her arms around me, squeezing tight.
"Oh my God, are you okay? We heard about last night—someone tried to—"
"I'm fine." I forced the words past the knot in my throat, even though I wasn't fine, wasn't anywhere close to fine. "Really. I'm fine."
Emma hugged me next, her grip just as fierce. But I noticed the way both of them stayed carefully outside Blake's reach, like prey skirting a predator's territory.
They were afraid of him.
And they thought I should be, too.
Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm the crazy one for letting him touch me after everything.
---
Ms. Reyna's history classroom smelled like old books and nervous Beta sweat.
Blake walked in five minutes late, his hand still locked on my waist, and the teacher's prepared lecture died mid-syllable. Her eyes went wide. Then she smiled—smiled—and gestured toward the back row like she was inviting royalty to take a seat.
"Blake... Alpha Blake. What an honor. I didn't realize you'd be joining us today."
Her voice trembled. The whole class swiveled to stare.
This is such bullshit. I'd been late to this class exactly once last month—car trouble—and she'd made me stand in the corner for fifteen minutes. Now she was smiling at Blake like he'd blessed her with his presence.
Blake pulled out a chair, his movements unhurried. He settled me into it, then took the seat beside me, draping one arm over the back of my chair with casual ownership.
"Kara was nearly kidnapped last night," he said flatly. "I'm here to make sure she stays safe. Please continue your lesson, ma'am."
The classroom went silent.
Ms. Reyna's face drained of color. "Of course. Of course! Kara, I'm—I'm so glad you're all right."
Liar. She didn't give a shit about me yesterday. She doesn't give a shit about me now—she just doesn't want to piss off an Alpha.
Then, as one, thirty students turned toward us.
"Good morning, Alpha. Good morning, Luna."
The synchronized greeting hit me like a slap.
My stomach turned over. Luna. They were calling me Luna now, the same fuckers who'd called me Carrot for years, who'd stolen my lunch and knocked my books off my desk and laughed when I scrambled to pick them up.
I'd been in this classroom for months. These same people had ignored me, mocked me, whispered that stupid nickname like it was my real name. Now they looked at me with deference.
Not because I'd earned it.
Because Blake was sitting next to me.
I want to throw up.
Through the bond, I felt Asher's distant concern: She doesn't like being the center of attention.
And Cole's wry response: At least no one's going to bully her anymore.
Yeah. Now they're just terrified instead. So much better.
I wasn't sure which option was worse.
---
"We're going to watch a documentary today," Ms. Reyna announced, her voice still unsteady. "About the Trojan War. Please take notes."
She dimmed the lights.
Blake didn't wait for permission. He hooked his foot around the leg of my desk and dragged it flush against his, the screech of metal on linoleum making everyone flinch.
My thigh pressed against his. Heat radiated through denim.
"Blake, this is class—"
"No one can see." His hand found my knee, thumb stroking slow circles over my jeans. "Relax, baby."
Relax? Is he fucking serious? There were thirty people in this room. Thirty people who would hear if I made a sound, who would know what we were doing in the dark.
On screen, ancient Greeks dragged a wooden horse through city gates.
I couldn't focus. Blake's hand slid higher, fingers tracing the seam of my inner thigh, and arousal slammed into me so hard I gasped.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
His scent thickened—smoke and leather and raw want. My body answered without permission, wetness pooling between my thighs, my core clenching around nothing.
I hate this. I hate that he can do this to me. I hate that I want it.
Blake, Asher's warning echoed through the bond. This is a school.
Cole's laughter followed, tinged with heat: Let her think about us all day.
Blake ignored them both. His mouth found the mark on my neck—Asher's bite—and he sucked gently at the sensitive gland. Lightning shot straight to my core.
I bit my lip to strangle a moan, tasting copper.
"Good girl," he murmured against my skin. "Stay quiet for me."
His hand cupped me through my jeans, pressing exactly where I needed it, and my hips jerked involuntarily. The bond lit up with feedback—Asher's sharp inhale, Cole's growl of approval—and I knew they could feel what Blake was doing to me.
They can feel this. Oh God, they can feel me getting wet in the middle of history class like some desperate—
My arousal soaked through my underwear. My pulse hammered in my throat. Around us, students shifted in their seats, probably catching the sweet edge of my scent, and humiliation burned through me even as my body climbed higher.
This is so fucked up. This is so—
"I need—" I choked out. "Bathroom."
Blake's grin was wicked in the dark. "Go ahead. I'll follow."
Of course you will. Because God forbid I have five fucking minutes to myself.