Alpha's Intrigue

Kastor

“So what’s the deal between you and that girl?” Jaxon falls into step beside me as Maeve disappears around the corner. My future Beta had been hovering nearby the whole time, primed to step into the fray if things went south. Not that I’d ever need the backup. Honestly, serving as my second-in-command is probably the easiest gig in the entire country. Nobody is stupid enough to cross me.

“She has a name, Jaxon. It’s Maeve. Start using it,” I rumble, a low warning threading my voice.

“Alright, take it easy. What’s going on with you and Maeve, then?” he corrects himself, hands raised slightly.

“Nothing at all. That said, put the word out: if I catch wind of any upperclassman giving a freshman a hard time—specifically Knox Davenport—they’re dead to me.”

Jaxon stares at me sideways, clearly waiting for the punchline. The flat, unyielding look I turn on him is enough to make a weaker wolf drop his gaze and back off on the spot.

“Got it. You’re the boss, Alpha.”

“Damn right I am.”

“So let me get this straight—you’re extending your protection to her AND her kid brother now? While standing here telling me with a straight face that nothing’s going on between you two?” he presses.

“Have you ever once seen the two of us spending time together?” I counter, smoothly sidestepping the actual question. Jaxon’s too sharp a Beta not to catch the deflection.

“You don’t need to hang out with her, Kas. A blind man could see how pulled in you are. Just don’t hold it against me if I fail to see the appeal.”

I stop and pivot toward him. “Seriously? You don’t get the appeal? Tell me something—do you think you could take her?”

His brow furrows. “Take her? Like, in a scrap?”

“Yeah,” I reply, though we both already know where this lands. Maeve’s reputation in the ring is legendary around here. Watching her move is fucking incredible.

Jaxon’s jaw tightens as he grinds his teeth together. “No.”

“And that doesn’t catch your interest even a little? Count how many Alphas you’ve watched her put on the floor,” I point out.

“Look, I’ll admit the girl’s got serious power. Still, I’ve never seen her square up against you.”

“That’s because I’ve never been dumb enough to give her a reason to,” I tell him, turning on my heel to head toward my classroom.

“What, worried she might actually hand you your ass?” he calls out, flashing a cocky grin.

If I’m being honest, the real danger wouldn’t be losing the fight—it’d be trying to stop my wolf from hauling her in and kissing her senseless. Torin has been hooked on Maeve and her wolf ever since we first laid eyes on her almost eight years back. He never gets bored of tracking her across a room, and he rides me constantly about making sure she stays safe.

I have absolute faith in my wolf. His instincts have never steered me wrong, and when it comes to Maeve, he’s spot-on. She’s something else entirely. Everybody knows the ugly history attached to her name. Back when we were younger, kids used to run their mouths about it—right up until she started dropping wolves cold with a single swing. That earned her the troublemaker label. In reality, she just refuses to swallow anyone’s bullshit. Period. It makes zero difference to her who she plants on the pavement. Rank, bloodline, supposed strength—none of it registers when she’s pissed. Come after her, or anyone under her wing, and she will dismantle you without blinking twice.

“Who knows? Maybe one of these days I’ll test that theory,” I toss back over my shoulder as I walk toward the senior hall.

Because we’re in the same graduating class, Maeve and I share a handful of periods. Every single day, she acts like I’m part of the drywall. I don’t let it bruise my ego, though, considering she freezes out everyone in the building except for Knox and Carmen.

Carmen is someone else I’ve spent plenty of time observing from a distance. The sheer loyalty she shows Maeve speaks volumes about the girl I can’t get out of my head. Unlike Maeve, Carmen is practically universally adored here—bubbly, loud, and right at the center of the social scene. Yet she’s stood in Maeve’s corner without wavering once, and even more shocking, Maeve actually lets her stay there. The way the two of them click is honestly fascinating to watch.

“Morning, Alpha,” a voice purrs nearby, pulling my focus off the back row—though not quick enough for me to miss Maeve rolling her eyes toward the ceiling.

Swallowing back a grin, I shift my attention to the she-wolf blocking my path.

“Hey, Chloe.”

“I was just thinking—if your calendar happens to be open this weekend, maybe you’d want to swing by my pack on Saturday night?”

She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, clearly aiming for either coy or seductive while her little clique hovers a few paces behind her, hanging on every word. With my eighteenth birthday right around the corner, she-wolves from neighboring packs have been throwing invitations at me left and right.

‘No,’ Torin snaps inside my head, flat and final.

I tune him out for a second. Lately, if a girl isn’t Maeve, Torin wants nothing to do with her.

“What’s happening Saturday night that I don’t know about, Chloe?”

Her face brightens into a practiced smile. “It’s my birthday party.”

“Ah. Got it.” And I really do. She’s banking on the mating bond snapping into place between us. Even if Torin weren’t currently snarling that he’d rather starve than claim her, I already know she doesn’t make the cut. Girls like Chloe are chasing the Luna crown, not the responsibility attached to it. My family sits near the very top of the werewolf hierarchy. Whoever takes the spot beside me is signing up for a lifetime of relentless, thankless grind. Between high-stakes political gatherings, endless pack galas, and hosting the most powerful leaders in our world, my future mate will have her hands full from day one. I don’t have room for a pretty trophy hanging off my elbow; I need a partner capable of running daily operations and fielding constant demands from both inside and outside our borders.

My gaze drifts back toward the rear desks, settling on Maeve. Now there’s a woman who already grinds her ass off just to get through a normal day.

I give my head a slight shake. If my parents had any clue what was running through my mind right now, they’d probably cut me out of the family line on the spot. In their eyes, Maeve is a walking liability raised by convicted killers—the absolute last person fit to lead a pack.

Torin lets out a low, rumbling growl in my chest, making it clear he couldn’t care less what our parents think. Truthfully, I’m starting to realize I don’t give a damn about their stamp of approval either. Whatever this pull toward Maeve is, walking away from it simply isn’t on the table.

“Let me look over my schedule, Chloe. If I can clear some time, I’ll swing through,” I tell her smoothly, knowing full well I won’t be anywhere near her territory on Saturday.

“Amazing! Finger crossed I see you there, Alpha.”

Stepping past her, I head straight for the back row and slide into the empty desk next to Maeve. She claims the rear corner in every room, likely so nobody can ever creep up behind her blind spot.

Keeping my eyes trained on the whiteboard as the teacher starts calling for quiet, I angle my shoulders slightly toward her. “How are the knuckles holding up?” I keep my voice down to a murmur.

“Fine,” she clips out, folding her arms tightly across her chest like a physical barrier.

“Got anything lined up for the weekend?” The question slips past my teeth before my brain even has a chance to filter it.

Maeve turns her head toward me by slow, deliberate degrees. “Half the girls sitting in this room would probably pass out if you asked them that. Since I’m not one of them, do us both a favor and go bother somebody who actually cares, because I really don’t.”

“Relax, Maeve, it was just a question. I was asking what you’re doing Saturday, not proposing we mate on the spot,” I mutter, fighting to keep the sting out of my tone. Being shot down flat—especially with zero hesitation—isn’t something I’ve ever had to deal with around women.

In response, she stretches her mouth into the most painfully phony grin I’ve ever witnessed and flutters her eyelashes, putting on a dead-on mockery of the girls who usually trail after me in the halls. “Oh, just putting in extra hours on the sparring mat so I can flatten a few more arrogant Alpha pricks! What about your weekend, Alpha Kastor?” she chirps, pitching her voice two full octaves higher than usual.

“I was only trying to make polite conversation, Maeve,” I bite out, my pride taking a solid hit. Getting brushed off and mocked to my face is entirely new territory for me.

The fake sweetness vanishes instantly as she pivots in her seat to face me square on. “Cut the games, Kastor. Keep pushing me, and you’re going to burn through whatever tiny shred of respect I still have for you,” she warns in a low snarl before whipping back around to stare straight ahead at the chalkboard.

I lean back against my chair, genuinely thrown for a loop. I have no playbook for handling a girl who not only bats away every olive branch I hand her, but refuses to even give me the time of day.

More importantly, nursing my bruised ego isn’t worth letting Maeve Davenport write me off completely. I can’t explain the why of it yet, but holding onto her respect suddenly feels like the only thing in this room that actually matters.