I stared at the message on my phone in disbelief. Physical Education was now mandatory for all students—effective immediately. A new "self-defense initiative" straight from the board of trustees. I scrolled through the academy's updated curriculum, my stomach knotting with each word.
Combat training. Paired exercises. Physical contact.
This couldn't be a coincidence. Not after yesterday's cafeteria incident where Adrian had practically marked our table as his territory, causing whispers to follow me through the hallways for the rest of the day.
I changed into the required gym clothes in a bathroom stall rather than the locker room, double-checking that my suppressant patch was securely in place beneath my shirt. The standard pills weren't enough anymore—not with Adrian constantly triggering my body's responses. I needed the stronger, direct-absorption patches to keep my Omega nature hidden.
When I entered the gym, the space was already divided into sparring circles with mats placed strategically across the floor. Students clustered in groups, chatting excitedly about the new program. I scanned the room for familiar faces from my research—Montgomery's daughter by the bleachers, Chen's son near the water fountain—mentally cataloging their positions while trying to blend into the background.
"Alright, everyone pair up!" Coach Bennett's voice boomed across the gym. "Today we're learning basic defensive holds and escapes. Find someone approximately your size."
Students scrambled to claim partners, leaving me momentarily relieved. If I was left without a partner, maybe I could—
"Coach," a familiar voice called out. "The new student doesn't have a partner. I can work with her."
My blood ran cold as Adrian approached, already dressed in athletic wear that did nothing to hide his Alpha physique. The coach nodded approvingly.
"Good initiative, Blackwood. Show her the ropes."
Adrian's smile was predatory as he gestured toward an empty mat in the corner. "Shall we?"
I had no choice but to follow, acutely aware of the eyes tracking our movement across the gym. Vivian Montgomery's gaze burned into my back with particular intensity.
"I know what you're doing," I whispered as we took positions on the mat.
"Do you?" Adrian's voice was light, casual. "I'm just helping the new scholarship student adjust to our academy's standards."
Coach Bennett demonstrated the first move—a simple wrist grab and escape technique. As we practiced, Adrian's fingers wrapped around my wrist with deliberate slowness, his thumb pressing against my pulse point.
"Your heart is racing," he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear. "Nervous?"
I jerked my arm away, performing the escape move with more force than necessary. "Just focused on the lesson."
With each new technique, the contact between us intensified. A hand on my shoulder. An arm around my waist. His chest pressed against my back as he demonstrated a chokehold escape. Each touch sent unwanted heat coursing through my body, my suppressants fighting a losing battle against biology.
When we switched to ground techniques, the situation became unbearable. Adrian pinned me to the mat, his body hovering inches above mine, his scent enveloping me completely.
"You're supposed to try escaping," he said, his voice husky. "Unless you like being underneath me."
Something snapped inside me. I executed the escape move perfectly, flipping our positions with a strength that surprised even me. Now I was on top, my forearm pressed against his throat—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make a point.
"Don't mistake me for some simpering Omega who'll roll over for any Alpha that shows interest," I hissed, low enough that only he could hear.
Instead of anger, his eyes darkened with something far more dangerous—desire, challenge, approval.
"There she is," he whispered. "The real Luna, hiding behind all those chemicals."
I pushed away from him abruptly, aware that several students had stopped their own practice to watch us. The air felt thick with tension and unspoken questions. Worst of all, I could smell myself now—my natural scent breaking through the synthetic barrier of suppressants, mingling with Adrian's Alpha pheromones in a combination that screamed "compatibility" to anyone with heightened senses.
Coach Bennett blew the whistle, signaling the end of class. "Good work today! Hit the showers!"
I practically ran for the exit, not bothering to change. I needed air, distance, another dose of suppressants—anything to regain control.
Behind me, I heard Vivian's voice, sharp with accusation: "What exactly was that, Adrian?"
I didn't stay to hear his answer. But as I pushed through the gym doors, one certainty settled in my mind: this game of cat and mouse had just become infinitely more complicated.
And I wasn't sure which one of us was the cat anymore.
