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.

words harsh enough to make me almost literally jump. My palms are sweaty as I take a

you even going to raise that?” he asks, nodding

way he says that,

kindles something in

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

to win the easiest bout of his life, but he doesn’t have

1. it.

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

nudge her sometimes.

are right, she says ridiculous things

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

funeral,” Jackson murmurs, 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 own stance, and our

myself, remembering Rafe’s words. Don’t let him get me to

each other, looking for 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 avoid the of wood that probably

sweep

or my years of casual sparring with Rafe and Jesse, and I move in closer, knowing that he has $ chance of hurting me if he can’t use his whole range. Quickly, I use the butt of

he gives a bellow, spins his staff in his hands and sweeps it behind me, hitting

my back smacks against the mat. As I gasp for air all I

that I can get to the edge of the circle, that

my head so that it presses against my neck. When he pulls back, I’m

–

desperately pressing my hands against the staff,

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

someone shout – Rafe but I can’t

not interfere!” someone

–

told you,” Jackson continues, lowering his head so that his mouth is close to my ear now, “to yield –”

I can to communicate that I’m giving up – that he’s won

–

goes rigid behind me, and then slack, and the staff falls away from

gasping for air. My eyes are shut as my face presses to the mat. I press my palms flat, letting

spinning me – my back hits the floor

see Jackson crouched above me, his eyes flaring. I gasp as I realize that he’s losing control – that he’s

does that, I’m a goner – he’ll shred me to pieces

to – I don’t know him off of me? Or to remind him that he’s

–

to get