The Hidden Princess At All-Boys Alpha Academy

Chapter 15

“Ari,” Rafe hisses, trying to get my attention in the sparring circle next to me.

But I can’t take my eyes off of Jackson, who stares at the floor in front of us, rolling his shoulders back. God why is he even stretching – it’s not like he’s going to have to expend any energy at all to push me out of this circle – he could probably just growl at me and I’ll run screaming out of it myself –

“Ari!” Rafe hisses, and I snap my attention to him. “You can’t forfeit,” he whispers hastily, searching my face to ensure I understand. “If you do, you’ll be disqualified. Just try not to fall, all right? Just engage once, stay on your feet, and let him push you out –”

“Begin!” the Captain shouts at the front of the room.

–

Rafe hesitates, glancing between me and Ben, who steps into the ring, his staff clutched in his hands.

I nod hastily to Rafe, letting him know that I understand.

Then I look at Jackson – or, more correctly, up at Jackson, whose eyes are on me now. God, he just seems to keep going up, like a mountain – did he get like, taller? Since the last time I saw him?

Did I shrink?

“Come on,” Jackson grumbles, his voice flat as he nods towards the center of the circle, telling me to get inside. “Let’s get this over with.”

I stare at him, my legs locking in fear – or in something –

–

Because, as much as I need to concentrate on surviving this getting out of this ring as fast as I can – I just can’t stop wondering…

– on doing what Rafe

says and

…what the hell my grandmother the Goddess was thinking when she picked this guy as my

mate.

My eyes sweep over him again, and while he is obviously an impressive physical specimen, he’s just so brutal. There’s absolutely nothing about Jackson McClintock that looks capable of being soft, or kind, or making me laugh. Everything about him looks built for violence and cruelty- there is nothing there that’s sweet.

When I think about fated mates, I think about mom and dad, or Aunt Cora and Uncle Roger, whose personalities seem to have been made for each other. Mom’s soft side evens out dad’s harsh edges, but still deep down, they’re both fierce, dedicated, and loving. They even have the same weird sense of humor.

This guy? He’s…he’s supposed to match me?

I just stare at him, shaking my head in disbelief when he snaps his eyes up to mine.

here!?” he snarls, the blue of his eyes flashing in demand, his words harsh enough to make me almost literally jump. My palms

eyes sweep over me, his lip rising a little in distaste. “Are you even going to raise that?” he asks, nodding towards

says that, the complete derision in his

kindles something

my chest, as pissed as I am. This guy might be

of his life, but he doesn’t have to be a jerk about

1. it.

like that, my wolf snaps. Even if he’s our mate, we’re

nudge her sometimes.

are right,

say, raising my chin and tightening my hands on the staff, falling into the stance they just spent hours teaching us. “Let’s do

his words barely audible over the sounds of sticks banging against each other and bodies hitting mats all over the room. Then he falls into his

to myself, remembering Rafe’s words. Don’t

openings, but he strikes quick as a cobra, taking advantage of his larger size and charging for me with a wide swing of his staff. Panicked, I leap to the side with a little yelp, ducking to

sweep

closer, knowing that he has $ chance of hurting me if he can’t use his whole range. Quickly, I use the butt of my staff to jab at the

slightly, but my victory is short–won, because before I can comprehend what’s happening he gives a bellow, spins his staff in his hands and sweeps

lungs as my back smacks against the mat. As I gasp for

the edge of the circle, that if I get close Jackson can push

of me, holding his staff in either hand and looping it over my head so that it presses against my neck. When he pulls back, I’m

–

that as I gasp, desperately pressing my hands against the staff, trying

demands, shouting the word above me. I nod frantically, trying to yield, but

hear someone shout –

not interfere!” someone

–

head so that his mouth is close to my ear now,

to do whatever I can to communicate that I’m

–

rigid behind me, and then slack, and the

floor, coughing and gasping for air. My eyes are shut as my face presses to

spinning me – my back hits the floor hard and

me as my eyes fly open to see Jackson crouched above me, his eyes flaring. I gasp as I realize that

a goner – he’ll shred me to pieces –

– I don’t know him off

–

to get