The Hidden Princess At All-Boys Alpha Academy

Chapter 102

Time moves strangely after that, at once standing completely still in my agony and. somehow, passing so fast that I barely understand it when the sun reaches its zenith, and then passes beyond it, and then starts to sink towards the horizon.

How how have hours past?

God, how have I survived them?

Though it all, Jackson and my pain have kept a steady pace. I do my best to curl myself against him, to make myself small and inconsequential, to not be a bother to this man who is running miles and miles across the countryside with me balanced in his arms.

The pain is….god, it drives me a little insane, I think, gnawing at my stomach and my leg. I can feel the blood dripping from me, at once agonizing and, somehow, a balm against the raw flesh of my wounds. I think I pass out…a lot, but regular infusions of Jackson’s magic keeps bringing me back, filling me with energy, making my eyes flutter open.

Always, always he’s glancing down into my face, checking to make sure that I’m okay

But, I mean, we’re both aware that I’m not okay.

But, somehow, I am alive.

And, somehow, he…keeps running.

—

I’m vaguely aware, as the hours pass, that this part of the Examination was meant to be done in wolf form that he should have shifted by now and crossed this field at his top speed as his gigantic wolf. But even in his human body, carrying me? Frankly, Jackson’s faster than most cadet’s wolves. Only a few of them pass us, sending us side–long glances and not bothering to interrupt, knowing that Jackson would end them if they did.

Jackson’s breath only starts to flag when I feel his pace change. I lift my head, curious despite my haze of pain, wondering desperately if we’re at the end

If there will be a healer, here-

Tergency calls only P

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Surely there has to be surely the Academy has medical staff waiting, knowing as they do that this is a violent Examination in which they’ve encouraged us to main each other, to get to the end.

I scowl a little, my mind wandering strangely as I make a mental note to have a deep conversation with my father and my uncle about this particular aspect of Academy life.

Because, quite frankly, I’m not sure I agree with these methods.

But will I ever live to see them again, to have that conversation?

sob, my hand clenching in Jackson’s shirt as I turn my face into him. I don’t have any tears,

pulling me closer against his chest. “We’re almost

looking up at him, a little baffled. “Really?” I whisper, and I’m startled by the cracked sound of my own voice, the way my eyes struggle to focus on his beautiful

grimaces, glancing upwards. “Well,

his chest. Not that it’s his fault – I just…god, I want it to end. All of it, the pain, the movement

just want to sleep, curl

making me look back up at him, his voice

–

lift my head, forcing my eyes to focus, forcing my head to nod. But it’s all it’s all really

his arms tightening around me. “I did not drag you for miles. across

But something about it brings me back to myself, a little bit more. “Okay,” I whisper, nodding my

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more of his power, his energy, his magic. I feel the difference instantly, the boost, but all it does is allow me to focus more on his grimace. “I need to to change positions, Ari,“

ask, confused.

He stares into my face and I nod,

shoulder. The moan that rips from me instantly turns into a yell,

over his shoulder, somehow, so that the weight of me isn’t on the wound. Instead, that faces inward, bumping awkwardly against Jackson’s head and sometimes his cheek as he begins to climb. Most of the time he keeps one arm wrapped. tightly around the

pass out as Jackson moves, somehow miraculously balancing me the whole time. The only times I come to are when Jackson passes more magic, his

world is increasingly black, and at first I think it’s

a steady string of words, most of them curses and narration of what he’s doing, every step

of how long he thought about me, about what I’d look like. His surprise that I’m a blonde. How much he wants to tell me,

instead I just hang limply over my mate’s shoulder, mourning the loss

can even

my own.

–

only

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– he deserves a

15.4#

dying over his shoulder, being hauled up a mountain. But Jackson laughs

when I’m awake focus on dragging in

and then feel him stumble, and then suddenly stand and pause on his two feet.

he murmurs, panting. He passes me more magic and my eyes