"If you don't lift that shirt in three seconds, Thorne, I'll rip it off you myself."
The deep, gravelly voice sent a shock of pure terror straight to my core.
Atlas Vanderbilt. The Alpha King of Northbridge Academy. He looked like a dark, jagged cliffside, and for three years, he had made my life a living hell. Everyone thought I was Jace Thorne, the pathetic, weak boy on the hockey team. Nobody knew I was wearing a tight compression binder to hide my breasts.
Now, we were locked in our dorm room. And he was in his rut.
His skin was flushed a deep, angry red. Sweat dripped down his sprawling tattoos. The room was suffocating with the heavy, intoxicating scent of burnt cedar and dark spices. He was trembling violently, his wolf fighting to take over.
"You smell... weird," he growled, his nostrils flaring as he leaned in, sniffing the air near my neck.
My blood ran cold.
"You smell like an Omega in heat," he whispered. "Sweet. Like vanilla and panic. Why the hell do you smell like a girl, Thorne?"
Before I could run, his massive hands grabbed my waist. He pulled me down hard, pinning both of my wrists above my head with just one of his hands. His scorching hot body hovered directly over me. I was completely trapped.
He buried his face deep into the crook of my neck, inhaling sharply. His icy blue eyes turned completely black with raw desire.
"You don't act like a boy," Atlas whispered, his rough thumb tracing my bottom lip as his massive chest pressed against my hidden curves. "And you definitely don't feel like one."