Chapter 3: Professor Cyrus

Maeve's POV

I stood frozen, unable to move or speak as I watched him approach. Every muscle in his body seemed perfectly sculpted, tensing and relaxing with each movement. His blue eyes were as mysterious as the deep sea, and sweat glistened on his bare chest, highlighting what could only be described as breathtaking perfection.

"This area is not open to visitors," he said, his voice low and cold. But there was an underlying tension in his tone that hadn't been there during our earlier encounter.

"Mrs. Green said I should report immediately... I'm Maeve, the new transfer student," I stammered, holding out my schedule change form with a slightly trembling hand.

He took the form, his fingers deliberately brushing against mine. A subtle tension rippled across his sculpted features as our skin connected, and the corner of his mouth tightened.

His overwhelming presence dominated the space between us. When he inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring slightly, I could have sworn he was taking in my scent.

"Professor Cyrus," a student called from across the arena. "About today's combat training, could you demonstrate that advanced control technique?"

My heart stuttered. Professor Cyrus. The stranger I had kissed was my new combat instructor. My stomach dropped heavily with this realization.

The student sensed the tension and hesitated. "Sorry to interrupt, Professor. I can come back later."

Professor Cyrus dismissed the student with a sharp gesture without even looking at him. His eyes remained fixed on my form, recognition flickering in his gaze before being replaced by an icy mask.

"Get training gear and join group three," he ordered, his tone cold.

I hesitated, feeling everyone's stares. The other students had stopped training, openly watching our interaction and whispering among themselves.

"I'm sorry... I can't shift yet," I admitted, straightening my back despite my embarrassment.

His expression darkened. "What? You mean you don't have your wolf?" The edge in his voice made several nearby students step back instinctively.

"My eighteenth birthday is next week," I said, refusing to be intimidated. "My wolf hasn't manifested yet."

I unconsciously licked my lips from nervousness, and caught his gaze dropping to my mouth. The temperature in the arena seemed to rise instantly. A few female students noticed our interaction, their expressions ranging from curiosity to hostility.

"Then please explain," he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous, husky tone. His dominating presence made students back away, but I remained frozen, caught in his magnetic field. "Why would someone without wolf choose my Combat Training course?"

"Because even without wolf, I can beat half the students here," I declared, meeting his gaze steadily. "I've been training since I was six. I may not have a wolf, but I have technique and speed."

Derisive laughs echoed through the arena. Professor Cyrus's expression darkened further. With unexpected speed, he closed the distance between us, his face mere inches from mine.

"Ambitious," he said sarcastically as he stepped closer, towering over me. His eyes briefly dropped to my lips before locking with mine, the air between us suddenly charged. "But this isn't a summer camp. The students here will TEAR YOU APART."

His words were a command, an Alpha's warning, and somehow... a challenge. The entire arena fell silent, the atmosphere around us thickening as our eyes remained locked in a battle neither of us was willing to lose.

Just then, a small grayish-brown wolf elegantly leaped down from the platform, shifting mid-air with practiced grace.

The girl who materialized before us was petite with a warm presence that instantly put me at ease. "If I may, Professor," she said softly but firmly, "I'd be willing to be her training partner."

Professor Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure, Freya?"

"Absolutely, sir," she nodded, meeting his gaze without flinching.

After a long moment, he shrugged, though his shoulders remained tense. "Fine. Your choice. Don't slow down my class."

He turned and walked away, his powerful shoulders flexing beneath his skin, drawing my eyes to the defined muscles of his back. But not before giving me one last intense look that sent heat rushing through my body. His eyes briefly flashed a dangerous red—a sign of an Alpha barely maintaining control—before returning to their piercing blue.

As he stalked across the training ground, his commanding presence parted the crowd of students like a physical force. The other students gradually returned to their training, though I could feel their curious glances.

I studied the girl who had rescued me. Her small frame and gentle appearance seemed almost fragile, but there was quiet resilience in her dark eyes that drew me in.

"I'm Freya," she said with a slight bow. "It's an honor to meet you, Maeve."

"You know my name?" I asked, surprised.

"Of course. Your father leads the Morpheus Alliance," her eyes flashed with admiration.

A warmth spread through my chest. I hadn't expected to find someone who recognized my abilities. For months, I'd felt excluded because I lacked wolf.

"Thank you for offering to help," I said, gently touching her arm. "You're the bravest Omega I've ever met."

Freya's eyes widened. "How did you know I'm an Omega?"

"I grew up around wolves of all ranks," I smiled. "The scent doesn't lie. But to me, rank has never been a measure of someone's worth."

Her eyes brightened at my words, as if no one had treated her with such respect in a long time.

Just then, an annoying voice interrupted our moment. I closed my eyes briefly, feeling the universe's cruel sense of humor.

Of course Juniper would be here. Of all places in this massive academy, I'd run into her again, barely an hour after catching her with Louie.

She approached with several followers, her perfect posture and smug smile making my stomach clench with disgust. The scent of her expensive, overly sweet perfume reached me from several feet away.

"How touching," she said, clapping dramatically. "A wolf-less freak and a lowly Omega comforting each other. Morpheus Crescent Academy's standards really are dropping every year."

"That's Juniper," Freya whispered, her small hand gripping my forearm as I instinctively started forward. "Her father is the academy's biggest donor, Alpha Joshua. She can get away with almost anything here."

Freya's warning made me reconsider, as creating a scene in my first class wouldn't help, especially when Professor Cyrus already seemed reluctant to accept me.

"Hmm, whatever," I replied absently, my eyes locked onto Juniper as she sauntered over to us, every step dripping with self-importance.

Seeing my restraint, Juniper's confidence grew. "I heard you transferred from Illustration to Combat, Maeve," she said. "Trying to prove yourself after being dumped? Or..." her gaze drifted deliberately to Professor Cyrus across the arena, her lips curling into a knowing smirk, "...maybe you're here for someone else? That little scene in the hallway was quite... entertaining."

I felt heat rush to my face. Damn it. She'd seen us. And judging by that smug look, she wasn't going to let this go easily.