Chapter 4
Ashley pov
Before I can open my mouth to respond to Steven's taunts, a sharp voice cuts through the tension. "Steven! What have I told you about harassing first-year students?"
The naked guys don't look happy, but they back away, throwing silent death glares that promise this isn't over. Great, first day and I've already made enemies.
An older man in a neat gray suit approaches, his presence commanding enough to disperse the remaining onlookers. Against my better judgment, I accept his offered handshake, muttering a quiet "thank you."
"No problem at all. Welcome aboard," he says with an oddly wide grin. "I hope these local clowns haven't ruined the image of our Academy before classes even start."
I keep my response minimal, trying to preserve my voice. The less I speak, the less chance of slipping up.
"May I?" he gestures at the papers in my hand. When I hand them over, his eyes scan quickly before returning them. "I'll walk you to your assigned room. I'm Professor Samuels, by the way. Chemistry."
He sounds too cheerful for a teacher, setting off warning bells in my head. But I engage in minimal conversation, sharing as little as possible.
"I don't recall you mentioning your name," he suddenly points out.
My throat tightens. I don't want to broadcast even fake details about myself. All I want is to survive this school year and vanish.
"Ash," I mutter, clearing my throat. "Ash Kingston."
"Nice to meet you, Ash Kingston. Noticed you're taking my chemistry class too. Always good to see someone interested in the subject."
Chemistry was Dad's passion. I can still hear his excited whoops whenever he managed to blow something up in his shed, followed by Mom's exasperated muttering. The memory stings.
"You don't talk much," he chuckles. "That's fine, I can do the talking for both of us."
Something predatory lurks in his gaze as he watches me. I can't pinpoint what exactly, but my instincts scream danger. Is he just naturally creepy, or does he suspect something?
Lost in thought, I barely notice our progress through the endless halls until his grip on my arm yanks me left. "We turn here," he announces, releasing me quickly. "I might be overstepping, but you should change your diet. A young man like you needs more meat on his bones."
"I used to live in Paris," the lie spills out automatically. "It's all about being fashion-thin there. Now I'm back in the States, I'll adjust."
"Hmm." He shifts uncomfortably, looking around like he's afraid of being overheard. "May I offer some advice before you enter your room?"
When I shrug agreement, he runs a hand through his hair and lowers his voice. "Don't tell the boys anything about Paris or being skinny for fashion. Most students here are Alphas - wealthy ones. They don't take kindly to... certain implications. Might not end well for you."
My eyes widen as his meaning sinks in. But before I can respond, we reach the door and he checks a note attached to it.
"Looks like you won't be spending your days alone," is all he says before giving me a curt nod and walking away.
Something's seriously off about that guy. Shaking off the creepy feeling, I turn to the door and brace myself. Time to meet my roommate.
As I push open the door, my heart skips a beat at the sight that greets me. Three men stand before me - all eerily alike yet distinctly different, like variations of the same devastating masterpiece.
And devastating is the right word. Each one looks like they've stepped out of some dark fantasy - tall, powerful builds wrapped in casual confidence. The kind of men who turn heads without trying and know it.
But it's not their model-worthy faces or the way their clothes hint at perfectly sculpted bodies that nearly brings me to my knees. It's the instant connection that surges through me and Sam's deafening howl in my mind.
The mate bond. Not one, but three distinct pulls, each as powerful as gravity itself.
One leans against the wall, radiating danger in a leather jacket that hugs broad shoulders. Another sprawls gracefully on a chair, long fingers tapping a rhythm that matches my racing heart. The third stands straight, athletic build and sharp jawline screaming Alpha energy.
My vision swims as realization hits: The Goddess isn't just giving me new mates after my rejection - she's giving me THREE. Triple the mates, triple the chance of discovery, triple the potential for heartbreak.
Sam's excited howling drowns out my rational thoughts as one of them steps closer, muscles rippling under his fitted shirt. His nostrils flare as he scents the air, and my blood runs cold. Those intense eyes narrow, and I swear I can feel the heat radiating from his body even from feet away.
In that moment, facing three potential mates who could expose me with a single breath, I realize Professor Samuels' creepy vibes are the least of my problems. My greatest threat might just be my own traitorous heart, hammering against my ribs as three pairs of eyes lock onto me with predatory focus.
Sometimes karma isn't just a bitch - she's a whole pack of them. And apparently, she's got a thing for deadly gorgeous triplets.