PRETENDER: Alpha's Forbidden Omega

Elowyn looked at the large gate upfront and instinct made her hurry and sip off the concoction her sweet friend had made. Elowyn shut her eyes and felt the change. She sighed softly and swallowed. The carriage rattled to a stop. Fog wrapped around the wheels like silk, and the gates of Ashmoore's Training Academy loomed ahead - tall, iron-wrought, carved with the ancient sigil of the first Alpha bloodline. Elowyn stared up from behind the window curtain, breath shallow. The illusion was holding. The forged sigils burned faintly on the carriage's crest. The two stallions stood still in the morning chill. The driver blinked and said nothing. Her fingers trembled as she adjusted the edge of her coat - masculine cut, plain but noble enough. Her shoulders still ached from the bindings. Her voice was quiet, nearly forgotten, and her heart? It thundered. "You are Prince Elyan Froste." She reminded herself. "Of the long-lost Eastern Draven Clan. And no one must know otherwise." The gates creaked open. The carriage raced down to the entrance pillar and halted. A woman stood at the threshold, dressed in a long obsidian coat and big glasses. Stern face. Alpha presence. She was flanked by two student guards. Younger wolves, sharp-eyed. Elowyn got out and two of her ghostly companies went ahead to grab her things. "Name?" the woman asked, voice clipped and scrutinized the young alpha and servants before her. Elowyn swallowed, straightened, and stepped out onto the cobbled path like her knees weren't made of mud. "Elyan Froste," she said carefully. "Draven lineage. Here for admittance." A pause. The woman stared at her. No, through her, eyes narrowed. Then she checked the ledger in her hand, her brow arching as if surprised to see the name. "From the east." she said slowly. "That's a long way off." "The Dravens travel far and speak little," Elowyn replied, just as Mia had coached her. The woman gave a faint nod. "Dormitory 3B. You'll be sharing with an active Senior Alpha in training. Baron Ortega. Give him this." Elowyn received a card and the entrance door flapped open. She nodded stiffly and stepped forward. "I'm just a student. Just a boy." She sang in her head. "I'm fitting in. No one's noticing." The gates shut behind her with a clang that sounded too much like a trap. The academy was colder inside than it looked. Grey stone. Towering walls. Students moved in groups, talking in murmurs. Big and tall. Aura for aura. Dominance. A few stared at her - most just kept walking. Surprisingly, there were colorful flowerbeds here and there and that was enough to give Elowyn a spark of hope that she wasn't in a grave. But one pair of eyes lingered too long. A boy in black, arms folded, leaning against a wall. He looked maybe 19, 20. Tousled hair. Pale skin. Piercing blue eyes that almost glowed beneath the cloudy sky. Elowyn met his gaze for one second too long. He looked away like he didn't care. But something told her he noticed something. The way a wolf notices a ripple in the wind. ★★★ ★★★ Dormitory 3B was at the end of the east wing, tucked between a weapons hall and an indoor training pit. When she stepped inside, the scent hit her like a wave. Musk. Pine. Cold iron. Alpha. Baron Ortega wasn't there yet. But his scent had claimed the room. She took a bag from her illusionary servants and crossed to another door that had her name written at the top exhaled slowly, pushing the door open as she thought. The ghosts followed and placed her things on the luxurious bunk bed. "Please, let it not be." Outside the room, footsteps drew near. The door creaked. And there he was - the Alpha with the green eyes, towel around his neck, hair damp, jaw tight. Baron Ortega. Large. Wildly handsome. Silent. He froze in the doorway. Looked her up and down once. Tilted his head slightly. He sniffed the air. "You smell... different." Elowyn's mouth went dry. Her fingers tightened on the blanket. "New soap," she said flatly. Baron didn't blink. "Hmm," he said. "Don't get comfortable so I don't break your face."