Bedded by the Headmaster

Ch 3: Unwilling Sacrifice

Arken

No sooner had Arken knocked than a voice cried out behind him.

"Stop!"

Eyebrows raised, he turned back to the partially open door. It was now wide open, and a female shifter stood in the doorway looking at him. She had a determined set to her jaw and a wide stance that contrasted her fearful amber eyes. She was fully clothed in flannel pyjamas, and her strawberry-blonde hair swung over one shoulder in a loose messy plait.

"Headmaster!" she exclaimed, her voice urgent but steady. "Please. Stop."

"Stop?" Arken tilted his head at her, blinking politely as he wondered what to make of her. Her tone reminded him of smooth satin, bright and soft as it quietly rustled over skin. He liked the word 'please' from her lips almost as much as he liked the word 'stop'. It was a long time since anyone had dared tell him to stop, a fact that had always bothered him. He considered himself an approachable person at the best of times, and rarely punished anyone, except when he was exceptionally grouchy from a hangover.

"Don't go in there," she said breathlessly.

"Why not?"

"Just...don't. Please."

There was the perfect word again, and Arken absorbed its warmth like sunshine. He was a natural born vampire, born to vampire parents, and he tolerated the sun perfectly well, except when—as he often was of late—hungover.

But not tonight. He was sober tonight, even if he did sway slightly on his feet, and as he studied the female wolf standing before him, he was suddenly glad of that. Perhaps it was the blood loss, but he thought her very pretty.

He was half-considering telling her that—that she was pretty—when he heard someone moving about on the other side of the door he'd knocked on.

"Headmaster?" The blonde shifter took an uncertain step forward, then another. "Not her. Please. Choose someone else."

"Someone else?"

"Yes."

Arken regarded the woman with puzzlement. She was clearly afraid of him, and yet she confronted him. There was probably a compelling reason for it. He lowered his voice to a deep timbre. "What's wrong with the wolf in this room?"

The woman swallowed. "She is feeling unwell."

"And you wish for me to choose someone else to feed on?" The disbelief in his tone should have made her take several steps back.

Her eyes widened, but she amazed him when she took a bold step forward, bringing her within arm's reach.

"Are you offering?" Arken murmured.

The wolf hesitated. Her reluctance was obvious. But then the door handle behind him rattled, and alarm flashed in her eyes. Her gaze flickered from the door to lock onto his, determination burning in her eyes. "Yes. I'm offering."

Or maybe it was resignation he saw in her eyes, but in that fraction of a second that he stared into their depths, he was struck by the hint of green contained in the amber glow. So unusual for a wolf.

A heartbeat later, the door swung open, revealing a small, mousy-haired woman with dishevelled clothes and tired eyes.

One glance at her hunched shoulders revealed why the blonde wanted to protect her. The mousy-haired creature standing before him wasn't simply anxious. She was traumatised, and she looked up at him like a dog who'd been beaten down too many times by a cruel master and was expecting more of the same treatment.