Her Forbidden Mate

History

CAROLINE'S POV

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Sweat coated my forehead and trickled down my nape as I reached the door where Zyran waited for me. "You're slow," he arched a brow. A silent judgement, or observation that I didn't enjoy hearing from him. "Well, I apologize for the lack of length in my lower limbs." Rolling my eyes, my chest expands as I welcome much-needed air into my lungs. "Talia is just as short," he turns, following me up the staircase. I don't know who this Talia is, but perhaps she's just more skilled than I am. "Good for her," Sarcasm drips from my tongue.

"I can help you train, if you want," His offer is enticing, but he's been here a mere month. How could he actually help me? "I'll consider your offer, thanks."

'Look who's being a hard ass,' Clara's glee tone catches me off guard. Is she proud of me for being a hard ass?

Reaching the commons floor, my bones stiffen at the sight of Lucian leaning against the wall. His raven hair combed over, a few strands falling over his forehead. His one leg bent, his foot pressed against the wall, and those shapely arms crossed over his broad, hard chest. The dark brown cotton top does wonders for his build, lining out every curve of his muscles, every line of the pulsing veins.

Lucian's steel hues darken as they flick between Zyran and I. "The rest arrived..." he lifts a pocket watch that's clipped against his trousers, his face becoming long for a beat and then looks back at me, "...Three minutes ago." he whistles, but it isn't an appraisal, it's judgement, disapproval and hatred. "I'll work with her," Zyran steps forward, putting his offer in front of Lucian. "To get her slacking some more? I think not, Lowell." Lucian sneers, and if he'd perhaps shown me he cared, I might think it was jealousy laced in his tone, but it's not. It's just petty hatred toward me.

"Excuse us," I strut past him to the dining hall, and Zyran passes me, looking angrier than I feel, and before I could even make it through the door, a hand grabs my elbow in a firm grip, tugging and I spin to face him. "Stay away from that one," he warns, letting go of me and strides into the dining hall without an explanation.

Stunned, I stay in place, staring ahead as I watch him, watch the muscles of his back relax as he dishes himself a plate and takes his seat with Mac and Rust.

Anger claws at my throat as I strut in, and dish a plate, finding a seat right next to Zyran.

The back of my scalp prick, and I'm sure that Lucian is looking at me, observing where I took my seat. I only ever feel the tingles when he stares, glances and even breathes in my direction.

A whimper echoes through my head, but it's not my own...It's Clarabelle's.

'Are you okay?' No matter how many times she tells me off, she is apart of me, and I end up caring.

'Mind your business, you ruined everything.'

Me?

'You and I both know this isn't my fault.' I snap, my grip tightening on the fork and knife. "You good?" Zyran's voice pulls me from the argument with Clara. I meet his eyes, "Just my wolf," I shrug, rolling my eyes and his eyebrows draw together. "But you seem upset?" concern flashes through his eyes, "She's not happy, that's all." I move the scrambled eggs around the plate, taking a bite here and there before my appetite just vanishes.

"Does she fight with you?" Fight? No. Blame, humiliate, talk down to me, yes. "Something like that," Scoffing, I raise from my chair. "Do you know my first class?" I pick up the plate. "We have history in half an hour," Zyran's smile is soft, caring. "Thanks," I could tell he noticed my full plate with just a few bites missing, but said nothing as I walked away and disposed of it before heading up to my room.

Closing the door, my heart shoots up into my throat. Lucian sits on my bed, his back against the headboard, his ankles crossed. He was sitting in the dining hall when I disposed of my plate...I try to remember if he sat there when I left, but it's all a blur of faces and bodies, the smell of food, the light chatter of voices... "What are you doing here?" I manage, frozen in spot. Lucian shrugs, reaching toward the small wooden nightstand, picking up the painting of Valerie and me. "Who painted this?" his eyes admire the small canvas of colors. "None of your concern," I should shoe him away, demand that he leave, but can I? He's our floor leader. He probably won't even listen to me. He puts the canvas down where he picked it up, and tosses his legs over the edge of the bed.

"We have history first," he informs me, but the information is as useless as him being here. "I know, Zyran told me." His eyes flare with flames of fury, his jaw ticking as the vein in his neck pops out. "Do you ever listen?" his head tilts as he stares me down. "Not to you," I turn my back to him. Staring at him, at his beauty and watching his eyes change different shades of blues as his emotions switch, all of it entices me. He's enchanting, and the longer I stare, the more I fall under his spell, the magic of our bond altering my brain every second we're alone, and so close that I can smell every inch of his tanned, glowing skin.

"You should," I can hear the grin in his voice, but choose not to engage him. "I'll consider it," Lies. I will never listen to someone who has made it very clear that they feel nothing for me. "You should..." I spin on my heel, facing him, "Stop telling me what I should do!" I snap.

His eyebrows raise, "That tongue of yours is very sharp, Careless. Be careful..." he strides closer to me, his eyes flitting between mine, "...Or it might just end up on the floor," the edge of his lips twist up into a devilish grin. My blood turns ice cold as he lifts a hand, brushing a loose strand that had fallen from my braid behind my ear. "Perhaps in another life time," his eyes are as cold as his tone, and the ice strips my breath away. His gaze lingers on mine for another two seconds before he brushes past me, his ever so light touch sending a vibration through my bones and it takes every ounce of will power not to reach for him.

I gather my notebook, and the history text book before making my way down to the commons floor. I can still feel the warmth of Lucian's touch on my cheekbone, still feel the graze against my skin from his dancing eyes.

I can't help but want him, but every time we're alone, he says something so ruthless, so stupid that I question the Moon Goddess' ability to pair mates.

A growl rips through my head, making my ears ring and my eyes squint. I grab onto the banister of the stairs, my knees buckling as my vision blurs.

'You will not question our Queen!' Clara bellows at the very top of her lungs,well our lungs--I don't know how it works.

The sting behind my eyes worsen as I step out into the courtyard, following the rest of the group toward a tall building on the left. It's surrounded by a beautiful garden of tulips of various colors, the bright hues in contrast with the dark green grass.

Silently, I observe from the entrance as people take seats all around the stadium like benches, leaving the open middle floor that forms a circle open. There's one desk there, but no professor in sight.

Lightning bolts down my arm as someone brushes past me, purposely shouldering me. Not someone. Lucian.

"Move it, Careless." he growls, his friends snickering behind him, and one dares to stop beside me, capturing the end of my braid in his hands, twirling it around his fingers. "So pretty," he breathes, inhaling deeply. "Mac!" Lucian bellows from two steps down, glaring up at his friend.

"What?" Mac shrugs, all the while I stand frozen in place, afraid to move. Mac's dark emerald eyes narrow on me, and there's something sinister about his look as his eyes flit across my face. "What's your name?"

I don't know if it's the disappointment that Lucian haven't mentioned me, or the fact that Mac is eyeing me like his next victim, but my throat becomes the desert, dry and itchy.

I gulp, "Caroline," Something tells me not to lie to this man, that he could kill me in one heartbeat. He hums in response, nodding slowly as my hair falls from his fingers, over my shoulder. "I'm Mac," a grin tugs at his lips and he trots down the stairs. My eyes follow his golden locks, only to notice Lucian glaring up at me with those piercing blue hues, a warning glistening in those dark orbs.

Stay away.

Got it.

I avert my attention when someone touches my elbow, the skin soft, the fingers slim and my gaze flicks to my right. A girl with raven hair and kind eyes smiles at me, "Caroline, right?" she asks, her voice as sweet as her scent. Vanilla. "Yes," I nod, forcing my own smile despite the cold sweat trickling down my spine. "I'm Laylee, do you want to sit with me?" My lips part, but before I could mutter a simple yes, Lucian's voice fills my ears as he calls me, "Careless, come here." his demand draws my attention to him, but I don't see him. My eyes flit across the heads of varying colors of hair, and I spot him, his back turned to me, but everyone could hear him.

"Your floor leader is a douche," Laylee whispers with an apologetic smile, and stalks off toward a bench, taking her seat. Confused, I stay rooted, staring at Lucian, and my eyes flick over to Laylee. She's right there. My eyes flit toward the raising figure, and Mac stands at the end, arms crossed, a challenge in his eyes, "Are you deaf?" he glares up at me. "Your floor leader spoke to you," he snaps, and without a second thought, I scurried down the few steps toward their row. I stood at the side of the long curving table, staring down at Lucian, "Yes?" I yelp when a strong hand grabs my shoulder, and wince as he pushes me down into the seat. Lucian moves up an inch, and I slide closer as Mac nestles in beside me, throwing his arm over the back of the bench, right behind me.

I can feel his gaze burning into the side of my face, "I convinced Lucian it would be a good act to help you through this class, aren't I nice?" Mac's cold, hard voice is rough, and not nice at all. I glance at him from the side of my eye, not daring to twist my head and face him. He stares at me with a void, his eyes dark. Fingers weave into my hair from my nape, and curl, tugging my head back, "I asked you something," he spits, inching closer, his hot breath fanning my ear. I grip my books tighter, nodding, "Yes," I whimper, biting down to stop my chin from wobbling. Mac lets go of me, and drags his fingers over my hair ever so lightly, "You're very welcome," He beams, smiling.

What the hell is going on?

I look at Lucian for any clues, but he stares ahead, chin rested against his knuckles with his arms propped onto the table.