
Bound To The Professor Alpha Who Wants Me Gone
"Get out of my sight, Elara. Or I'll be the one to end you."
Professor Kael Draven is the cold-blooded Alpha who hates my existence; and the forbidden mate bond that ties us together. He's determined to expel me from Northwood University before the secret in my blood gets us both killed, but every ruthless punishment only makes me crave his touch more.
He was supposed to be the man who ruined me... not the monster I couldn't live without.
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Chapter 2
Elara pressed her spine against the rigid wooden back of the chair in the furthest corner of the lecture hall. She was trying to make herself as small as possible, a difficult task when every nerve ending in her body felt painfully electrified. The heavy, suffocating weight of Professor Kael Draven's presence filled every inch of the massive room. It was a tangible pressure pressing down on her chest, making it difficult to draw a full breath. She kept her eyes glued to the blank parchment in front of her, but her skin prickled with the terrifying awareness that he was standing at the podium just fifty feet away.
The spilled ink on the floor had vanished within moments of her retreating to the shadows. A subtle flick of Kael's wrist had cleared the crimson and blue mess before he even began his lecture, a casual display of raw, unspoken power that made Elara's stomach twist into tight knots. She was a pre-law sophomore. She was used to studying torts, constitutional law, and the strict boundaries of human justice. Now, she was sitting in a room where the laws of physics were treated like mere suggestions.
"Bloodline politics," Kael's voice resonated. It was a dark, commanding baritone that sent a fresh wave of shivers tracing down her arms. "It is the foundation of our world. Treaties are not written in ink. They are bound in blood. And weak blood does not dictate the terms of survival."
He paced the raised dais. Every movement he made was calculated and deeply lethal. He moved like an apex predator confined to a cage, his broad shoulders shifting gracefully beneath the dark fabric of his tailored shirt. Elara risked a glance upward. It was a grave mistake. His amber eyes snapped directly to her, locking onto her gaze with the precision of a heat-seeking missile. The impact was like a physical blow to her ribcage.
He held her gaze from across the room. The air between them hummed with that same electric heat she had felt on the floor. It was a suffocating tension that tasted like metal and ozone.
"Some species believe they are entitled to occupy spaces meant for the elite," Kael continued softly. His eyes did not waver from hers. The words were a velvet whip, striking her with deliberate precision. "They rely on fragile human laws, believing bureaucracy and pity can protect them from primal instinct. But in this academy, a weak lineage is a death sentence. There is no sanctuary for the frail."
He was talking about her. He was weaponizing the curriculum to remind her she did not belong. Elara's pre-law instincts flared to life. She understood intimidation tactics. She recognized a hostile prosecutor dismantling a helpless witness on the stand. But this was not a sterile courtroom in a human city, and Kael Draven was not arguing a simple case. He was issuing a public warning.
She refused to look away. Her fingers gripped her silver-nibbed quill so tightly her knuckles turned stark white. The invisible tether connecting her chest to his thrummed with a heavy, magnetic pull. She could still smell him from across the amphitheater. The sharp pine and thunderstorm scent cut cleanly through the musty smell of the old library books surrounding her. It made her mouth water. It made her deeply hate herself for the visceral, instinctual reaction her body was having to a man who clearly despised her existence.
The agonizing hour dragged to a close, every tick of the grand clock on the wall echoing loudly in her ears.
Students began packing their bags the second Kael stopped speaking. The suffocating silence broke into a chaotic murmur of voices. Elara waited until the room was mostly empty, watching the vampires, shifters, and sirens file out through the heavy oak doors. She needed to fix this. Her parents' memories were gone, wiped away to protect them from the magical disaster she had caused back home. She had nowhere else to go. If she failed this class, she would be cast out into a savage world she did not understand, stripped of any academic protection.
She gathered her surviving supplies and walked slowly down the slanted steps toward the podium. Kael was organizing a stack of thick parchment. He did not look up as she approached, though the rigid line of his jaw told her he knew exactly where she was standing.
"Professor Draven," she said. Her voice sounded far too quiet in the vast, echoing room.
He paused. His broad shoulders tensed. The temperature around the polished wooden desk dropped a staggering ten degrees, a literal frost creeping across the edge of the wood.
"Miss Quinn," he replied smoothly. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on his papers. "I thought my instructions to remain silent and out of my way were clear."
"I need to apologize properly," she insisted, forcing herself to take a brave step closer. The scent of dark cedar washed over her in a heavy wave. "I am a transfer student. I was thrown into this world just three weeks ago without a manual. I do not want any trouble. I just want to learn the rules and pass your class."
Kael finally looked up. His amber eyes were utterly devoid of warmth. They were twin stones of frozen gold, hard and merciless.
"This is not a human university, Miss Quinn," he stated in a low, dangerous tone that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "There are no study guides. There are no grading curves for effort. You are a fragile creature swimming in a sea of ruthless monsters. Your apologies will not save you when they decide you look like an easy meal."
He picked up his leather satchel, his knuckles briefly turning white around the handle. "Do yourself a favor. Pack your bags and leave Northwood before someone breaks you beyond repair."
He walked past her without another word. The cold draft he left in his wake made her shiver violently. He took all the oxygen out of the room with him, leaving Elara grasping for breath in the empty lecture hall.
Elara turned and walked out into the corridor a few moments later, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The massive hallways of Northwood were swarming with students moving to their next classes. The architecture was towering and oppressive, filled with shifting shadows and gargoyles that seemed to track her movements. She kept her head down, trying to navigate the sea of unfamiliar faces and strange, glowing eyes.
A sharp, brutal force slammed into her shoulder.
Elara stumbled backward, her wet boots skidding on the polished marble floor. She threw her hands out and caught herself against the cold stone wall before she could fall again, her spine hitting the rock with a dull thud.
Standing in front of her was a girl with striking, blood-crimson hair and eyes that glowed a faint, venomous pink. She was flanked by two massive boys who looked like they belonged in an underground fighting ring, their chests broad and their jaws heavy.
"Watch where you are walking, human," the girl purred. Her voice was highly musical, like wind chimes, but the dark malice dripping from it was unmistakable.
Elara straightened her uniform jacket, forcing her breathing to steady. "You hit me."
The girl let out a dark, mocking laugh that echoed down the stone corridor. She stepped closer, aggressively invading Elara's personal space. The smell of cloying roses and burnt sugar filled the air, thick and nauseating. This was Seraphina. Elara had heard terrified whispers about the succubus queen of Northwood in the dormitories. She was elite, powerful, and deeply cruel.
Seraphina leaned in, her pink eyes narrowing to dangerous slits as she took a deep, sudden breath. A look of violent disgust crossed her flawless face.
"You reek," Seraphina hissed. Her voice dropped to a lethal whisper meant to terrify. "You smell like raw ozone. You smell like him."
Elara's stomach plummeted to the floor. She had barely been near Kael, just a few feet away at his desk, but the strange, electric tether between them must have left a physical trace on her. A scent imprint.
Seraphina reached out with lightning speed and trailed a sharp, perfectly manicured nail down Elara's cheek. The touch burned like a hot brand, leaving a stinging trail of heat against her skin.
"Professor Draven is out of your league, little human," Seraphina threatened softly. "He belongs to the elite. If I ever smell his scent on your pathetic skin again, I will personally peel the flesh from your bones."
The two massive boys behind her growled in deep agreement, their eyes flashing a predatory, warning yellow.
Seraphina turned and sauntered away, her heels clicking sharply against the marble, her lackeys following closely behind her like loyal dogs.
Elara stood frozen against the stone wall. The chaotic noise of the busy hallway seemed to fade into a dull, rushing roar in her ears. The terrifying reality of her situation settled heavily onto her shoulders, a weight she was not sure she could carry.
Kael Draven had not just humiliated her in front of the class. By drawing so much public hatred toward her, by singling her out as weak and pathetic, he had painted a massive, glowing target on her back. He had signaled to the elite predators of Northwood that she was fully unprotected and unwanted.
He was trying to scare her away. He was trying to make her run back to the human world.
But as Elara touched her stinging cheek, her fear slowly morphed into something else. It morphed into a cold, stubborn anger. She was a pre-law student. She did not back down from a fight, and she certainly did not run from bullies.
She was the prey. And the hunt had just begun. But they were about to find out that she refused to be an easy kill.
Author's Note:
The tension is rising fast! Kael is trying his best to push Elara away, but it looks like his actions just threw her right into the line of fire with Seraphina. What do you think about Elara's pre-law mindset kicking in? Is she brave or just a little bit reckless for not running away? Let me know your thoughts in the comments! Please like, comment, and share if you are enjoying the story, I read every single one of your messages and they mean the world to me!
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8.7
I was dying in a cold hospital bed, listening to the monitor count down my final seconds.
As a ghost, I watched my own funeral. My popular friends and wealthy family soon moved on, but one person stayed.
Cas Riley. The invisible outcast from the back of my history class.
He brought a white rose to my grave every single day, withering away until he collapsed on the frozen ground, dying of a broken heart for a girl who barely knew his name.
Opening my eyes again, the hospital smell was gone. I was reborn back in my high school classroom.
I immediately tracked him down, only to witness the brutal hell he was trapped in.
He was humiliated by a cruel foreman for pennies, violently slapped by his uncle over his sick mother's medical money, and forced into bloody street fights.
He was starving, covered in bruises, and completely alone.
When I tried to buy him medicine and step into his life to protect him, he violently pushed me away in the pouring rain.
"Stay out of my life! To protect you, I have to fight, and when I fight, I lose everything!"
He wasn't rejecting me out of hate. He was terrified that his dark, violent reality would drag me down with him.
Standing soaked in the rain, my resolve hardened like steel.
Gentle kindness wasn't going to save him from this hell.
To protect the boy who died for me, I had to become ruthless enough to tear down his entire rotten world and build him a new one.

8.5
Aileen transmigrated into a dark, unfinished novel as the villainous, abusive wife of a powerful billionaire.
The moment she opened her eyes, her husband's calloused hand was crushing her throat, and her six-year-old stepson was pointing a box cutter at her face, screaming for her to die.
A cold system voice suddenly exploded in her brain, forcing a mandatory mission: save the villainous father and son, or face immediate death.
To survive the system's strict Out-Of-Character warnings, Aileen had to keep playing the role of the deranged, hateful wife.
She was despised by everyone. Her husband threatened to drag her to an asylum, and her terrified stepson scrubbed the floor with his own pajamas just to avoid her wrath.
Things escalated when the novel's original female lead publicly framed Aileen in Central Park, throwing herself onto the grass and clutching her pregnant belly.
"She pushed me. She tried to hurt the baby!"
Archer rushed over, shoved Aileen aside with absolute disgust, and looked at her with the eyes of a murderer.
Aileen felt a bitter wave of exhaustion. She had discovered the original owner's hidden antipsychotic pills; the woman wasn't just evil, she was severely mentally ill and completely broken by this loveless marriage.
Yet, no one cared, and her husband would always choose to believe his childhood sweetheart's fake tears.
Since everyone in this world was convinced she was an unpredictable lunatic, she decided to give them exactly what they expected.
Aileen turned her back on the ridiculous scene, a cold smile forming on her lips.
She was going to stage a massive, undeniable psychological breakdown, using her "insanity" as the perfect shield to play the system and rewrite her fate.

9.3
To the outside world, I was the envy of every she-wolf as the fiancée of Alpha Kael. But inside the gilded cage of his pack house, I was a ghost.
I molded myself into perfection for him, wearing the colors he liked and suppressing my own voice.
Until I walked past his study and saw him with Lyra-the orphan he called his "sister."
His hand rested intimately on her thigh as he laughed, telling her, "Elara is just a political necessity. You are the moon in my sky."
My heart shattered, but the physical blow came days later.
During a training exercise, the safety cable snapped. I fell twenty feet, shattering my leg.
Lying in the dirt, gasping through the pain, I watched my Fated Mate run.
Not to me.
He ran to Lyra, who was burying her face in his chest, feigning terror. He comforted her while I bled.
Later, in the infirmary, I heard him whisper to her, "She won't die. It will just teach her who the real Luna is."
He knew. He knew she had sabotaged the rope with silver, and he was protecting her attempted murder.
The final thread of my love incinerated into ash.
The next morning, I walked into the Council Hall, threw a thick file on the table, and looked the Elders in the eye.
"I am dissolving the engagement," I stated coldly. "And I am withdrawing my family's silver supply. I will starve this Pack until you beg."
Kael laughed, thinking I was bluffing. He didn't notice the lethal Beta from the rival pack standing in the shadows behind me, ready to help me burn Kael's kingdom to the ground.

8.6
Alia bought her four-million-dollar Manhattan townhouse in cash the day before she married Jerel.
For three years, she worked eighty-hour weeks as a top architect to build their life, until an anonymous text shattered her reality.
It was a high-definition photo of her husband kissing his junior partner, followed by an eight-week ultrasound.
Alia didn't scream. She went home, only to find her mother-in-law throwing IVF brochures at her, screaming that she was a selfish, barren workaholic for not giving the family an heir.
Jerel played the perfect, gentle husband, wrapping his arms around her and urging her to rest.
But later that night, Alia caught them on a secret call with a lawyer.
They were plotting to blindside her with a divorce, claiming his minor financial contributions entitled him to the property, aiming to kick her out with a measly fifty-thousand-dollar settlement.
They wanted to steal her hard-earned home to raise his pregnant mistress's child.
Alia's jaw tightened until her teeth ached. She had paid for every single inch of that estate.
Did they really think her dedication to her career made her blind, weak, and easy to destroy?
She didn't shed a single tear.
Instead, she walked into the office of the city's most ruthless private equity billionaire and struck a dangerous deal to lock away all her assets in an irrevocable trust.
Days later, when Jerel handed her the settlement with a fake, sympathetic smile, Alia poured cold black coffee directly over the ink.
"Tell Tiffany she is never stepping foot inside my house," Alia said smoothly. "I'll see you in court."

9.5
To inherit her late father's company, Rachel Hartley must get married. She proposes a contract to Damian Westwood-wealthy, devastatingly handsome, and dangerously persuasive. But Damian has secrets, an ambition of his own. Their marriage is not about love, definitely, but about wealth. To him, she's a pawn, a key to unlocking his own ambitions.
Yet the closer they become, the more blurred the lines get between lies and truth, desire and betrayal. Rachel must decide if she can love a man who might ruin her or save her.
In a marriage built on secrets, one truth could destroy everything.

7.9
On our third wedding anniversary, my husband skipped our celebration to comfort his fragile adopted sister.
When I went to look for him in the middle of the night, I saw them intimately kissing in bed.
"She is a spoiled heiress who cannot live without me. Let her wait."
He scoffed to his sister, calling me a pathetic, clingy dog waiting for a scrap of attention.
For three years, I gave up my career as a top surgeon and managed his estate like a compliant housewife.
I swallowed my pride because my dying father desperately needed an experimental drug controlled by my husband's company.
But when my father accidentally overheard how my husband humiliated me, the guilt gave him a severe heart attack.
Waking up in the ICU, my father grabbed my hand and ordered me to divorce him.
When I finally handed my husband the divorce papers on the street, he flew into a violent rage.
"If you file these, I will cut off your father's medicine and leave you with nothing!"
He threatened me, thinking I would drop to my knees and beg for his mercy.
He didn't know that my personal trust fund was the only thing keeping his entire over-leveraged company from going bankrupt.
I smiled calmly and executed the secret clause to instantly withdraw my two hundred million dollars.
This time, I chose to burn his family's empire to the ground.