Page 2 of Alpha’s Hated Mate (Shifters of Clarion)

“ M r. Vaultmore. What a pleasure it is to have you at Moonhelm.”

My face turns up in a tight smile. My other foot isn’t even over the threshold, and Dean Fowler is already welcoming me into his office. His eagerness is more than a little concerning.

My first thought upon seeing him is that he looks like a bird, which is odd, considering we’re all wolves here. He’s tall with a thin face, a hook nose, and long silver hair tied back into a neat ponytail. As he smiles, his laugh lines are so deep they almost hollow out his cheeks. He steps aside and allows me to enter. “Come in. Come in.”

I’m only here because my council insisted. After Father died, I was told that I needed to attend Moonhelm. My advisors and seers gently commanded me to, telling me that as the new Alpha of my pack, I needed to learn how to be an Alpha in the modern world. It’s ridiculous, really. Father taught me everything I’ll ever need to know. This school is for the uninitiated and newborn wolves. Not for someone like me.

But here I am at their behest . . . mostly because they wouldn’t shut the hell up about it. I’ll do my time here and then head back to my home in Claymore City, where I belong. That’s all that matters.

It’s all about playing the game of diplomacy. Meet the faculty heads, act like I care about their institution, ask how many years Moonhelm has existed, blah, blah, blah. I wonder if Father had to do this every time he donated to the school.

Dean Fowler’s office is pretty generic. A desk with a blotter, stacks of paper, and a cup of pens. A wall of books on one side and wooden paneling with a portrait of one of Moonhelm’s founders on the other. Alongside the dean are two others—an older woman with messy blondish-gray hair and half-moon glasses, dressed in an oversized sweater and jeans, and a man who doesn’t look to be too much older than me with nearly black hair and an intense glare. He must be the hard-ass of the three of them.

“This is Professor Jean Roberston,” Dean Fowler says, “and her son, Chadwick Robertson. Jean teaches Labors to our freshman class, and Mr. Robertson is the administrative head of faculty and the Alpha of the Tsukino Pack.”

“Aydan Vaultmore,” I say as I sit down in the chair in front of Dean Fowler’s desk. “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s such a pleasure,” Professor Robertson says, a big smile on her face. “Your father was such a big supporter of Moonhelm.” I nod and hold my smile. She adds, “I understand your sister is a student here as well?”

“Yes. Nadia Vaultmore. I believe she’s in her second year.”

“Oh, of course! Brilliant student. Professor Faro says she’s at the top of her biological studies. A budding scientist.”

“Exactly what we need in this world,” Dean Fowler says. “You know, Moonhelm offers many areas of study that would help in both the Outer Lands and Clarion if you so desire.”

“I have no intention of going to the outside world,” I say as kindly as I can muster. “I really just want to do my Alpha training and return to my pack in Clarion. An Alpha should be with his pack.”

Mr. Robertson stiffens. “Claymore, correct? That’s just outside of the capital, is it not?”

“Yes. It’s one of the oldest cities in Clarion, in fact. My family’s line goes all the way back to the court of the very first Alpha King during the first era—”

“Hmph. Explains a lot.”

That was rude. I shake it off, though. Dean Fowler clears his throat and says, “Fair enough. Let’s discuss your current schedule, then.” He walks around the desk and sits down, pulling a folder with my name on it out of a drawer. I’m already tuning out of this conversation. He starts prattling on about the merits of each class, announcing them like he’s talking about the specials on a menu.

I let him go over the first couple of classes before I say, “You know, why don’t you just tell me where I need to be and when? I can figure everything out on my own.”

“You in a hurry?” It’s Mr. Robertson who speaks. His voice is as low as a growl, and his eyes bore through me. Suffice it to say, he is not impressed with me. I clear my throat.

“No. It’s just that it was a long flight in, and I’d really like to get settled.”

“That’s fair,” Dean Fowler says as he closes the folder. “I’ll cut this short, then. We understand that you have had a full education with your pack. Your teachers in Claymore have given you glowing accolades. They say you are a natural leader.”

I have no response to that. I mean, he’s not wrong. He goes on.

“Be that as it may, here we are.” Dean Fowler’s still smiling, though I can detect some seriousness in his tone, “Much of what we learn in our individual packs is valuable, of course, but with every new generation comes new ways of thinking and operating within Lycan society. It is very important that you do well here at the school. After all, the Moon Goddess may have chosen you to lead, but that is the extent of her grace. It’s up to you to become a real leader for your pack.”

Again. No response, this time out of politeness. He sounds like Father used to. It’s almost insulting.

“Anyway,” Dean Fowler continues, “you’ll be staying in the main dormitories. Chadwick, if you don’t mind, maybe you can escort Mr. Vaultmore?”

Mr. Robertson looks like he minds very much, but he just sighs and says, “Sure thing.”

As soon as the two of us are outside of the office, Mr. Robertson gives me a once over. I can only imagine what he’s seeing. A young Alpha with messy blond hair that’s cut a little too long in the front and a little too short in the back. I have a lean but muscular frame, and, while I fill out a suit pretty well, I’m dressed in a simple white shirt and slacks today. I’m sure I don’t look the part of whatever Alpha regality is required in his mind.

“Shall we?”

I nod and follow him down the hall and to the stairs leading out of the building.

“So, you work with your mother?” I ask him once we’re out in the morning air.

“I do,” he said.

“And you’re an Alpha?”

“I am.”

“If you’re here, what about your pack?”

He gives me a sidelong glance. “They are in Clarion, of course, awaiting my return.” That’s confusing as hell. I’m curious to know more, but he adds, “I try to make it a policy not to get too personal with the students, especially those who aren’t interested in staying very long.”

He continues forward, leaving me to follow behind him like a pup. Okay. I don’t know why I thought we could communicate on the same level, Alpha to Alpha. Seems like I do have something to learn here at Moonhelm.

We walk along the cobblestone path that leads back to the front gates. The entire campus looks like the set of a gothic movie. Gargoyles stare down at us from the buttresses of the looming stone buildings. The high peaked roofs glitter with black stone shingles that look older than whoever put them there in the first place. We walk up to the front door of the dormitory, and I choke back a laugh. The door even has a gargoyle-shaped knocker on it. This place sure is dedicated to its aesthetic. Just when I think that Mr. Robertson is about to reach for the knocker, the door simply opens on its own, allowing us inside.

To my surprise, the front lobby area is completely contemporary. Marble floors and silvery metal railing against the staircase to the second floor. Couches and coffee tables near high windows that shine the morning’s sunlight down, brightening up the room. There are students everywhere . . . and there is definitely no shortage of beautiful women here. Back home, the seers constantly nagged me to find my Luna and to solidify my position as Alpha. Maybe I’ll find her here. That’s at least something I can look forward to.

As soon as we walk through the doors, I’m hit with the scent of roses. It hangs heavily in the air like perfume. Someone’s practically bathed in it. What’s weird is that the scent seems to energize me. My wolf rustles within me, awakened by it.

“That,” Mr. Robertson says, pointing to the woman standing at the desk near the stairs leading up to the rooms, “is the attendant. Talk to her about which room you’re in.”

I look around at all the students coming and going, books in hand, talking to their friends. It feels strange standing here. Like I don’t belong. That smell isn’t making it any better.

“It really smells in here,” I say. “Someone has on too much perfume.”

He just scoffs. “I’m sure you can deal with it for a few minutes. Come on.”

We walk over to the desk. The attendant, a woman with a plastic smile and lips the color of a fire engine, looks at us both with vacant blue eyes. “Welcome to Moonhelm. How may I help you?”

“Room number for a new student,” Mr. Robertson says in a wooden tone.

“Name or ID?”

“Aydan Vaultmore,” I say.

The woman motions to the clipboard on her desk. “Welcome to Moonhelm. Please check in here.”

I walk over and sign my name, and that scent wells up again. I turn toward the stairs where I think it’s coming from, and that’s when I see her.

Long blood-red hair hanging bone straight over her shoulders. She’s not in the standard black on black uniform that everyone else is in. Instead, she’s wearing a white t-shirt with a black bra underneath and blue jeans that hug her rounded hips and thighs. As she walks down the stairs, she glances up, and I catch a glimpse of her sapphire eyes.

My heart stops for a moment, captivated by her beauty. She is the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.

And then it hits me. She’s a Scarlet. There’s no mistaking it. Hair the color of blood and eyes like a jeweled sky. I’m instantly filled with disgust as I look away from her.

“Thank you,” Mr. Robertson says to the attendant. He hands me my keycard, but I barely look at him. I barely look up at all. I can’t believe there’s a fucking Scarlet just walking around on campus.

“Is everything all right?” he asks me.

“Yeah. Fine. I guess.” I manage another look as she passes us by, her eyes trained on the door and ignoring everyone in the room. “I just thought Moonhelm was more discriminating as to who they let in.”

His eyes follow mine, and his hard glare comes back to me. “You’re talking about the redhead.”

“The Scarlet . Yes. I have to question Moonhelm’s security if such dangerous creatures are allowed here.”

Mr. Robertson’s face splits into a smile, and somehow, it’s much more threatening than his glare. “Moonhelm accepts any wolf that wants an education,” he says kindly. “Scarlet Wolves, hybrids, and even spoiled brat Baby Alphas. What we don’t accept is intolerance. If you’ve got a problem with Scarlets, maybe you should go home now before you start unpacking your things.”

He doesn’t yell or growl these words. He doesn’t even sound angry, but the meaning is pretty fucking clear. He’s not playing around with me. He looks at me with his stone glare, waiting for me to challenge him.

“So,” he goes on, “do we have a problem here, Vaultmore?”

If we were back in Claymore, my next course of action would be clear. He’s bigger than I am. About four inches taller and at least fifty pounds bigger, but I’m an Alpha. And size be damned, I would never allow another Alpha to disrespect me like this in my house without recourse.

But we’re not in my house. We’re in his. And I’m the one who’s disrespecting him. I would be disgracing myself by challenging him here.

“No,” I say. “No problem.”

“Good. You’re on the third floor in room twenty, and your first class is at eight a.m.” He pauses, his eyes giving me the once over. “Welcome to Moonhelm.”

With that, he walks off. I watch him go, twisting my keycard between my fingers. One of these days, maybe I’ll take him up on a challenge. Honor be damned. And then we can see who the tougher wolf really is.

“Hey, big brother!” Nadia rushes me and wraps her arms around my neck. I hug her and inhale her familiar scent—fresh jasmine—and something in me settles. My little sister reminds me immediately of home. My shoulders relax, and I am suddenly aware of how on edge I’ve been. It’s so good to see her.

She pulls back and looks me over. Her blonde hair has gotten long, down to the middle of her back. She’s got big, bouncing curls, and her tan skin is glowing. Moonhelm life agrees with her.

“Look at you,” I say. “You’re really blooming here, huh?”

“Of course I am,” she says. She steps back and turns around so I can get a full view. “Look out, Clarion’s Science Society!”

We’re standing in the door to my dorm room. It’s dreadfully small and simple. White walls, a wooden bunk in the corner, and a dresser and desk on the opposite wall. At least I’ve got my own bathroom. I step back, inviting her all the way into the room.

“The faculty mentioned that you were at the top of your classes,” I tell her. “You really like it here so far?”

“I do,” she says. “Academically and socially, it’s the perfect place to learn about Lycan society. You’re going to love it here.”

I shake my head, remembering her phone calls home. She’s been saying the same thing for months now. “Yeah, yeah. So you say.”

“It’s true. And you’ll have plenty of chances to find out. There are about fifty clubs you can join. I’m sure you’ll find one with people who share the same interests as you. And then there are special events like the big faculty dinner at the end of the semester—”

I groan and sit down on the edge of my bed. “We don’t have to go to that, do we?”

“Uh, thanks to Dad, yes. They’ll be expecting us, too.” She gives me a little smile, noticing my discomfort. “It’s not all school shit, though. I’ve got an in on several parties around campus all year. The biggest of them is the Midterm Break at Howler House.”

I scoff. “What the hell is a Howler House?”

“It’s a club. It’s not a real house or anything. It’s just what they like to call themselves. It’s mostly jocks and stuff. Annoying and dumb as rocks, but they know how to party. You should at least go to that one.”

I sigh and shake my head. “And why should I?”

“Because I’m in charge of organizing it, that’s why. You wouldn’t let your little sister down, would you?”

I scowl at her. I have no desire to get drunk in a room full of untrained wolves.

“Oh, come on,” she says. “You have to come. I want to introduce you to my friends. Maybe you’ll like one of them. Maybe one of them will be your fated mate—”

“Maybe I’ll stay in my room and sleep instead.”

“Aydan.” She sits down on the bed next to me, putting her head on my shoulder. “I’ve been talking you up to everybody on campus. You’ve got to come. You’ve just got to.”

I don’t want to. And really, I don’t like to do anything I don’t want to do. But . . . but it seems important to Nadia. I pat her on the head and say, “Fine. But I’m only going to make an appearance. Thirty minutes.”

“An hour.”

“Nadia—”

“Okay. Just long enough to have a drink. How about that?”

She looks at me with these big blue eyes, and I have to give in. My little sister has always had me wrapped around her finger. “Fine,” I say. “One drink.”