The Hidden Princess At All-Boys Alpha Academy

I move fast down the hall, Jackson at my heels, and I hope desperately that we’re lucky enough to evade the guards who prowl these halls at night. I mean, we haven’t had a problem with being attacked in our own Palace…ever? So the guards are few and far between. But still, we’ve got to move fast because if they see us, they’re definitely going to tell my mom that I’m out of bed.

And I really, really want nothing more right now than a few stolen hours with Jackson.

ADOR

My mate runs after me, shaming me a bit with his speed and his silence, and I can feel the joy pulsing through him as we go. He’s checking his steps, I know, to let me take the lead but then again, I’m the one who knows where to go. When I get to the end of the hall 1 fling open a door and wave him through, whispering “to the top! All the way

up!”

Jackson sends a gorgeous grin over his shoulder before he starts to run up the stairs, so sweet and handsome that it makes me stumble in my steps a bit. But I recover quickly, dashing up after my mate. When Jacks gets to the top of the fourth flight he pushes open the only door there, and steps out onto our rooftop garden.

going still so fast that I almost bang into

give him a playful shove out of the doorway and press the door shut behind us. Jackson obliges, stepping out into the garden and

whispers, a bit in awe, turning and taking in the four ancient, gnarled olive trees that stand in the four corners of our garden. Scattered fruit trees grow between them, as well as lots of pretty little potted roses and herbs,

say, moving to the shed and pulling out some blankets and pillows, handing them to my mate, who follows. “So, she built us this little garden. She said kids are like

the little fridge and pulling out a bottle of white

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hungry,” Jackson says, watching me curiously and peering around.

down on the ground. “Mom didn’t grow up with much, so she has kind of a scarcity mindset. She stocks snacks all around the Palace so that if anyone ever feels a single hunger pang, she can be on it. Plus, growing up, Rafe did eat pretty much

blankets and spread one out on the thick plushy grass before I scatter the pillows around. Then I sink down onto the blanket, patting the ground next to me, inviting Jackson to sit. He does, handing me one of the glasses. “Your mom didn’t grow up with much?” he asks, a little confused. And I guess that makes

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