Claimed by the Alpha CEO

The night Aurora Vale lost her family, the snow smelled like iron.

A blanket of silence had draped over Crescent Hollow, her small hometown nestled deep in the woods-too quiet, even for winter.

She had fallen asleep reading in her bed, her fingers tangled in the fabric of her worn sweater, comforted by the scent of cinnamon her mother always added to the fireplace logs.

The first scream shattered everything. She woke with a gasp, heart already thudding in panic. The sound of snarling and crashing glass filled the air outside her room.

Then came her mother's voice.

"Aurora! Get Elias and run!" She didn't make it in time.

Her mother had begun to shift, protecting her younger brother-but the rogues were faster. Bigger. Hungrier.

Aurora saw fur, blood, and snow all blur into one horrific moment. Her father's final roar. Her brother's scream.

And then silence.

She didn't remember how she got away. Only the cold against her feet, the branches scratching her skin, the sob caught in her throat as she ran into the forest and didn't stop.

Nothing except the forest swallowing her whole as she sprinted barefoot through the trees, the wind freezing against her tear-streaked face.

That night carved a permanent scar into her soul. She didn't look back. She never got to say goodbye. She collapsed in the snow far from home, her body trembling, skin burning, her soul ripped apart.

That was when she heard it. A soft voice, deep within her mind.

"Live."

Now, 5 years later, after moving from different towns. She stood at the edge of the city known as Crescent City, with her entire life packed into one old duffel bag and a single suitcase with a broken wheel.

The world here was louder-taller buildings, honking cars, glowing neon signs that didn't flicker with fire, but with electricity and indifference.

She tried to live through it for the past 5 years. But everywhere she settled, she felt unsafe. With no known relatives and no records of her birth parents, the university had offered her a rare late transfer-an escape disguised as a scholarship.

Crescent University would be her new home for now. At least until she could figure out who she was without the weight of ghosts on her back.

Aurora glanced at her reflection in a darkened storefront window as she waited for the campus shuttle.

She barely recognized herself. Her long ash-brown hair hung in soft waves over her shoulders, the ends fraying from weeks without care. Her skin-pale with an undertone of honey-looked even paler under the city's cold lights, but her face still carried a delicate, haunted beauty.

High cheekbones, wide hazel eyes flecked with gold, and a heart-shaped mouth that hadn't smiled in a long time. She was slim, but with the gentle curves of someone who once danced barefoot through flower fields and now flinched at shadows.

She wore an oversized hoodie that swallowed her small frame, black leggings, and scuffed sneakers-clothing that made her look invisible. That was the goal. Invisibility was safety. The shuttle arrived with a hiss of brakes. She boarded in silence, settling into a seat by the window.

As the buildings slid by, she tucked her legs up and wrapped her arms around herself, her gaze vacant.

She hadn't shifted. Not once. It wasn't normal for someone her age. Most werewolves felt the pull of their wolf by sixteen, seventeen at the latest. But she had just turned twenty. And still-nothing. No voice in her head. No ache in her bones during the full moon.

Just silence. A silence that made her feel broken.

They had said she was adopted. The memories of her human parents were warm, though hazy. But her blood-her real blood-remained a mystery. All she knew was that something inside her was... waiting.

Dormitory Hall A came into view, a towering structure lined with creeping ivy and arched windows. It looked more like an ancient boarding school than a university hall. She took a deep breath as she stepped off the shuttle.

The air here was different. Still, but cleaner. Crisp. She could almost smell the pine trees beyond the campus wall, the subtle hum of energy beneath the stone pathways. As if the land itself knew what she was. Or what she might become.

She checked in, received a keycard, and climbed four flights of stairs before unlocking her dorm room. It was small-bare walls, one desk, one bed, a window overlooking the inner courtyard. She dropped her bag and stood in the center, her body frozen by the quiet.

For a moment, she let herself cry. Not loudly. Not violently.

Just a few tears that traced her cheeks like old friends. Her hand pressed over her heart. It still beat. That had to mean something. A new life. A new beginning.

Even if her past still clung like a second skin.

Somewhere in this strange, glowing city, her fate waited.

And it would not be gentle.

The first week passed in a quiet blur.

Aurora kept her head down and her schedule full. Her classes were intense, especially since she'd arrived halfway through the semester, but the structure gave her something to cling to. Something that dulled the pain that still echoed in her chest. She woke up early, made it to every lecture, and wandered the campus alone during her breaks - the old stone pathways and ivy-covered walls gave her a strange sense of peace.

Most students seemed too loud, too fast, like they were racing through life without looking back. She envied them.

But there was one who slowed down long enough to notice her.

"Hey, you dropped this," a soft voice said on Tuesday afternoon, just after Literature.

Aurora turned, surprised to see a girl with warm amber skin, sleek black braids tied in a high ponytail, and a piercing on the right side of her nose. She was holding out Aurora's student ID.

"Oh," Aurora said quickly, taking it. "Thank you."

"No problem," the girl smiled, tilting her head. "You're new, right? I saw you in Dr. Keats' class yesterday."

Aurora nodded, clutching her ID. "Yeah. I just transferred."

"Cool. I'm Calla, by the way. I'm in Linguistics, but I take a few core classes with the Lit crowd." She extended her hand, her black-painted nails catching the sun.

"Aurora."

"That's a pretty name. Kind of dramatic, in a 'main character' sort of way."

Aurora blinked, then laughed. It was the first time in weeks that she had.

They sat together in the courtyard later that day, sipping cheap coffee and talking about professors, dorm showers, and the insane price of campus food. Aurora learned Calla had an older brother who worked in the city's government, that she hated small talk, and that she had a secret obsession with crime documentaries.

By the end of the week, Calla was the closest thing Aurora had to a lifeline.

But everything shifted on Friday.

It was her last class of the day - Modern Myth & Folklore - and it was held in an older lecture hall on the edge of campus. Aurora was almost late, her hands full of notes, hair wind-tossed and loose around her shoulders. She wore a soft beige knit top that hugged her frame and a pleated brown skirt that fell just past mid-thigh, paired with ankle boots. The cold had kissed her cheeks pink, and her eyes seemed even more golden than usual.

She slipped into a seat near the back just as the door closed.

Then he walked in.

At first, she thought he was a guest speaker. No one she'd seen yet looked like that.

Tall, with long legs encased in tailored charcoal slacks, his black button-down sleeves rolled up just below his elbows, revealing lean forearms veined with tension. His hair was dark brown, almost black, and slightly tousled as if he'd just run a hand through it. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw dusted lightly with stubble, and lips that were both stern and sensual.

But it was his eyes that pinned her in place - pale, glacier-blue and arresting, as if they could see straight through bone and memory.

"Good afternoon," he said, his voice a low, silken baritone that settled deep into Aurora's skin. "I'm Professor Lucien Dusk. I'll be taking over this course for the rest of the semester."

A few girls near the front adjusted their posture. Someone giggled. But Aurora couldn't breathe.

He looked young for a professor - maybe twenty-seven at most - but there was something in the way he moved that made her think of someone much older. Controlled. Powerful. Dangerous, but not careless.

As he turned to write something on the board, Aurora felt it again. A pull.

It wasn't like the stories she'd read in books about heartbeats skipping or fireworks behind the eyes. This was lower. Deeper. Like her body had recognized him before her mind could make sense of it.

Her thighs pressed together instinctively.

Lucien taught like a man who didn't care if people were impressed. His voice remained calm, never raised, but the room was silent. He asked questions that demanded more than memorized answers, and when his gaze swept across the room, it lingered just long enough to feel like a touch.

At one point, it landed on her.

Just for a moment.

But it was enough to steal the air from her lungs.

When class ended, she stayed frozen in her seat while students filed out. Lucien remained by the desk, adjusting papers, seemingly unaffected.

Her heart hammered.

She didn't speak to him. Couldn't.

But as she walked past him toward the door, she swore she felt his eyes on her back.

Not casual. Not curious.

Hungry.

Saturday morning came with a soft drizzle and the gentle hum of the city beyond the tall glass windows of the café. Aurora sat in a corner booth with her knees tucked beneath her, sipping a cinnamon latte while raindrops played a muted song against the window beside her.

Calla arrived ten minutes late, drenched in the sort of fashionable chaos that only she could pull off - leather boots wet to the ankles, her oversized plaid jacket slipping off one shoulder, dark braids wrapped in a silk scarf.

She flopped into the seat opposite Aurora with a breathless groan.

"I swear the rain in this city is sentient. I just missed the bus and that douchebag barista flirted with me and spelled my name 'Kala' on the cup. Twice."

Aurora smiled, stirring her coffee. "You're glowing."

"It's spite."

They laughed - and for a few blissful minutes, the world outside seemed to melt into the scent of roasted beans, vanilla syrup, and the sweet, strange comfort of female friendship.

Then Calla leaned forward, voice dropping low.

"So," she said, "how was your last class yesterday? You looked like you saw a ghost when you left."

Aurora's heart skipped.

She hesitated. Her fingers tightened around the mug.

Calla blinked, then gasped. "No. Don't tell me it's the new prof. The hot one?"

Aurora's cheeks flushed instantly. "It's not like that."

Calla grinned, savage and delighted. "Girl, you didn't have to say it like that. You just confirmed everything."

Aurora groaned, burying her face in her hands. "It's stupid. I barely know him. He just... he walked in and I couldn't look away."

"Yeah, he walked in like he owned the damn class and looked like he walked out of a supernatural romance cover."

"Not helping."

"I'm serious. Lucien Dusk?" Calla said the name like it tasted sinful. "That man does not belong in a university. He belongs in someone's dreams - or nightmares. Did you see his eyes? They're practically a weapon."

Aurora exhaled slowly, dragging her nails along the edge of her cup. "It's more than just how he looks. When he spoke... it was like my skin could feel his voice. I don't know how to explain it."

Calla's teasing expression softened into something more curious. "Like a pull?"

Aurora nodded slowly. "Exactly."

The silence that followed felt weighted. Intimate.

Calla leaned back. "You know... Ivory Hollow has stories. My grandma used to tell me that the city is full of old blood. Witches, wolves, shadows. Most people say it's all legend, but..." she shrugged, her eyes narrowing slightly, "sometimes things feel real before they make sense."

Aurora paused. "Wolves?"

"Just stories," Calla added quickly, waving it off. "But... I wouldn't blame you for feeling drawn to someone like him. There's something different about that man. Like he sees more than he's supposed to."

Aurora didn't say it out loud, but she'd felt exactly that.

Like when Lucien's eyes swept over her, they weren't just seeing her clothes or posture or face - they were peeling back something hidden. Something she wasn't sure she understood herself.

As they sat together sipping coffee, Aurora kept replaying that brief glance - those pale blue eyes meeting hers.

What was that?

Was it just attraction? Was it something deeper?

Or was it a thread tied to something older, darker, and more primal than she could yet imagine?

She didn't know.

But something told her this wasn't the last time Lucien Dusk would steal the air from her lungs.

And even as her heart fluttered nervously in her chest, a dangerous part of her... hoped he would.