Filed To Story: Claimed by the Alpha I Hate Book Read Free
If only I’d known that becoming Headmistress meant I’d eat, sleep, and breathe paperwork, I might’ve not taken Clara’s suggestion so seriously,
Speaking of Clara, I looked down at the mess of papers in my hands, searching for the number to her classroom. After finding it on page three, I traveled down the length of the hall which veered to the left to end in a large square. There was an additional corridor down the center that led to my personal office, which is where
I’d retreat afterwards before heading home to Tristan.
He’d been a bit disgruntled leaving my side whenever I went to the Academy, but I was slowly learning to control my magic and could handle myself for the few hours I was away. Thanks to Breyona, our resident librarian, I now had more texts than ever on blood-magic. My sister’s best-friend had traveled half the country so far, discovering hidden texts and manuals on different kinds of magic.
She’s one of the many things keeping this place together, and even volunteer’s her time at our second location, which opened just this year.
I peeked my head in Clara’s classroom and was greeted by a wave of laughter and cheers. With Nolan and Daisy funding the place, we had enough money to build large classrooms full of color. The beanbag chairs and rolling tables were anything but conventional, but the children loved them.
Crystal sun catchers hung from the ceiling, casting rainbows along the floor. That was a personal touch of Clara’s, one some of the other professors replicated.
Clara stood at the front of the class room, swiping a stick of chalk over the blackboard. As I entered the room, effectively stealing the attention of her class, a grin swelled on her face. The ankle length skirt she wore swished in a sea of pattern and color, matching her tank top and the lilac eyeshadow she painted on her lids.
“Well if it isn’t our wonderful Headmistress. Say hello everybody!”
Many of the budding witches cupped their hands over their mouth to shout, while others were a bit more reserved. A chorus of ‘Hello, Headmistress’ rang out into the room.
“Hello, everyone. Are you all excited for the start of the school year?” I asked, sweeping my eyes over nearly a dozen heads.
The girls in the class were virtually all of the same age. Here at the Magisterium, we grouped classes based on skill level. All that mattered was that these young pupils were beginners. At the end of their third year, they’d be evaluated and sorted based on their individual magical callings.
After their excited string of ‘yes’s’ died down, I turned to Clara and waved the roster sheet that I held in my hand.
“Oh, new students. Let me see!” She chirped, ushering me over to her desk. Plucking the paper from my hands, she glanced up at her class. “Girls, chat amongst yourselves while the
Headmistress and I go over this year’s roster. Oh, and no magic.”
Clara’s lips twitched as she looked up at a little girl with chubby cheeks and golden hair. Locking eyes with her she shouted, ” That especially goes for you, Angelica!”
The little girl in question nodded rapidly, her lips threaded in a thin line. As soon as Clara’s head was turned, her eyes scanning the class roster, Angelica spread her arms and unleashed a cloud of crystalline butterflies that sparkled as they crossed into the beams of sunlight permeating the room.
Before I could think to say anything, a small hand appeared at my waist. The little witch it belonged to had dark skin. and a head of curly hair. She tugged the front of my blazer to get my attention.
“What’s her name?” The little girl asked, eyes bright with curiosity.
It was a bit odd, but I ignored the twinge and replied, “You know who I am, silly. My name’s Holly.
The girl shook her head, her curls bouncing around her shoulders. Clara looked up from the roster and tilted her head. We shared a confused, but curios look before the girl’s hand slid from the hem of my blazer and came to rest on my stomach.
“No, Headmistress. I’m talking about the baby.”
Clara & Mason
Four Years Later Clara’s P.O.V. “Don’t you dare, little witch.” Mason warned in a low voice.
A shiver worked it’s way down my spine when he placed his hand against my back. Even through the thin fabric of the dress I wore, I could feel the heat he exuded. One of the first things I’d learned about
Werewolves was that they ran hot.
Despite how hard I tried, a smile worked it’s way onto my face. My chest quite literally ached with the urge to cackle, but I couldn’t help it. It’s not my fault Tristan’s expression was absolutely to die for. Even
Daisy was having a hard time containing herself, snickering behind her hand as she watched the scene unfold.
Tristan had been locked in place for the last minute in a half, staring at Holly like she had grown three extra heads. No one could blame the poor guy considering he was the only one who didn’t know his mate was pregnant. 2
“You’re pregnant.” He repeated for the thirteenth time.
A laugh exploded from my mouth seconds before Mason wrapped his arms around me and hauled me into his arms. I wriggled against his ironclad hold, knowing I stood no chance fighting my way out of his grasp.
Good thing I didn’t need strength to overpower him.
I sent a small jolt of magic cr*ckling down my skin, just enough to provoke a reaction. Since Holly and
Tristan were being all lovey dovey, wrapped in each other’s arms, the only ones left to notice were Daisy and Nolan.
“You little cheater, using your magic against me.” Mason chuckled in my ear, his voice simultaneously rough and silky. There was a softness to it that stirred the butterflies camping out in my stomach.
Dancing out of his grasp, I wiggled my fingers at him. There was a playful tilt to his lips, that when paired with the beard he’d been growing, was devastatingly handsome. His eyes twi*kled as he stalked towards me, both emerald and brown depending on the source of lighting.
There was once a time where that playfulness was nonexistent, where his carefree nature was an act he put on for the world. Despite how much Daisy and Breyona cared about him, they never truly realized how much he was suffering inside.
I didn’t either. Not for awhile, anyway.
Mason’s arms slid around my waist. It didn’t take much to send my mind drifting back into the past, to how our relationship first started. Admittedly, I’d gotten on his nerves, but I liked to think that he needed the challenge. More than once we teetered on the verge of enemies, but for the most part, we lingered on the cusp of something more.
I sighed when his lips skated along my cheek. His touch was soothing, relaxing in the best way. It was nothing like the otherworldly sparks fated mates felt, but it was close enough.
“You know, I wouldn’t mind seeing you pregnant. Your skin glowing, stomach round with my child, your scent even sweeter than it is now.”
My heart sk*pped a beat. Hell, it might’ve stopped completely if it weren’t for my magic. In the four years we’d been dating, he had never said anything quite like this. There was so much between us that remained unspoken.
Like the topic of his actual mate.
“Oh, is that so?” I chuckled, craning my head to smirk up at him. The strands of his light hair fell across his forehead tickling my nose. A smile spread across his face as I wrinkled my nose and blew the hair out of the way.
Despite how relaxed I felt around him, how my feelings had long surpassed a simple crush, the thought of Mason’s actual mate was never far from my mind.
Daisy herself had warned me ahead of time. Hearing the story of how Mason was not only rejected but suffered through his mate’s death was agonizing. It was a pain I could never fully understand, but with it came a slew of worries.
Would I ever be enough for him? Would he ever truly be happy with me?
I hid the dark turn my thoughts had taken behind a smile, but no matter how far my cheeks stretched and how brightly my eyes sparkled with joy for Holly and Tristan’s baby, I couldn’t help but notice the mating mark on both of their necks.
Never have I wanted one so badly.
The weeks after Holly’s pregnancy announcement blended into one. Each and every morning I’d venture off to work, spending those precious minutes before my shift with Mason, who never once failed to make my lunch.