Chapter 14

Ruby

My face burns a deep scarlet red as I stand in the middle of the training field with all of the students and Atwood glaring at me.

Atwood clears his throat. I can tell that he’s attempting to compose himself, but I can see the anger behind his eyes and the way that his fists ball up at his sides. “Miss Ruby,” he says. “Late on your first day of transfer, and no uniform.” He makes a tsk sound with his tongue. It feels as though he’s trying to hide the fact that I’m his mate from the other students.

Finally, he manages a cordial smile and addresses the rest of the students.

“Thank you for coming to the first day of training,” he says. “Let’s kick off this school year on a high note. If everyone could please line up at the base line, we’ll begin with some stretches to warm our bodies up.”

The students obediently line up on the white line. I go to follow and stand next to Nancy, who gives me a sympathetic smile.

Atwood gives instructions to all of us to begin stretching. He walks back and forth across the line, giving pointers to certain students and helping others to get into the right stretch.

“Mr. Keith, great job. Miss Viola, I know you can stretch a little more. That’s better. Mr. Paul, why don’t you show me some of the stretches I taught you for your knee last semester?”

I do my best to follow the stretches, but I don’t really know what I’m doing, and it’s obvious that Atwood isn’t going to help me in the same way he’s helping the other students. Thankfully, Nancy notices and whispers for me to follow her lead.

We sit down on the grass with our legs outstretched and our backs touching and take turns leaning back so that the other leans forward and tries to touch her toes. Nancy easily stretches due to her time on the cheerleading team, but I’m not so flexible. Atwood doesn’t seem to notice, though, as he helps other students and ignores me.

I glance around to see Donna stretching in such a way that her perky ass sticks out, and she’s looking right at him; probably hoping that he’ll look at her. The thought of that mean bitch trying to get Atwood’s attention makes my blood boil. She looks at me and smirks before looking away and continuing her stretching as though nothing happened.

“Do you see now what makes him so attractive?” Nancy whispers from behind me. “His memory is superb, and he’s so personable with the students! Last semester, he would even stay late with me to help me with physical therapy because I hurt my knee during cheer practice. He’s so dignified and grounded, I envy anyone who gets to be his mate.”

After a few more minutes, Atwood calls us all to stand and begin our first training circuit.

Nancy wasn’t lying earlier: Atwood does go hard on us, and my ill-fitting shoes make me no exception. Throughout the entire training session, I struggle to keep up with the other students and frequently stumble and trip over my giant shoes. I’m sweating profusely underneath the thick hoodie that Alice packed for me, much unlike Donna, who runs like a gazelle and doesn’t even sweat at all.

Atwood barely pays attention to me the whole time, other than to point out my mistakes or get aggravated with me for lagging behind the other students. Why is he treating me like this? Even with the problem with my uniform, I thought that he was an understanding and kind person. This Atwood is not at all like the Atwood that I see in the castle.

Finally, after a grueling hour of training, Atwood dismisses us.

“Except for you, Miss Ruby,” he says. “I’ll speak to you privately over on the bleachers.”

The other students walk by, snickering and whispering to one another as I stand defeated on the training field. Donna saunters by me, smirking, and whispers in my ear as she passes: “Trying to get Lycan Atwood’s attention? Your tactics are so cheap.”

I try to be nonchalant and not show my upset at Donna’s words, but it still stings.

I look down at my feet sullenly as Atwood’s orange eyes practically bore holes into my skull. Silently, I walk over to the bleachers and sit down on the bottom bench as I await my punishment. From my seat, I can see him whisper something to Kayne, who sprints off toward the building.

If it wasn’t for Alice and her stupid vendetta against me, making me wear an all-white uniform and leaving me with these ratty gym clothes, I wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

If it weren’t for Alice, I might even have some more friends by now and not be ridiculed by the whole school.

Once the rest of the students are inside, Atwood makes his way over to me. He looks bigger and scarier than ever, especially now that he lets his true anger show. I’ve never felt so afraid; not even when he caught me after I escaped.

“What the hell is this?” he growls as he strides up to me with his long, lean legs. If I wasn’t terrified, I would be turned on by his appearance in his training clothes right now. He wears no jacket despite the chill in the morning autumn air, letting his muscular biceps and chest muscles show from underneath his tight-fitting shirt. He wears a pair of joggers that are tighter around his ankles, and I can imagine his erection straining against them. If only I was wearing what the other girls are wearing, I wonder if that would be the case.

“I-” I start to say, but he cuts me off.

“Actually, I don’t want any excuses,” he says, folding his bulging arms as he stands in front of me.

I feel cold and distant now at the fact that Atwood won’t even listen to my side of the story. If he would just listen, I know he would understand. Or maybe he wouldn’t, since apparently he seems to think that Alice is the best head housekeeper in the entire world.

“I’m sorry for not being prepared,” I say flatly, staring at my feet.

Atwood lets out a heavy, aggravated sigh and looks at his watch. Just then, Kayne comes running back with something in his hand.

A pair of shoes.

He hands the shoes to Atwood and walks away to give us some space.

“Put your feet out,” Atwood says impatiently, kneeling in front of me. I do so hesitantly. He yanks my shoes off and slips the new ones on. These ones fit much better, and don’t hurt my feet.

“Due to your poor performance today, you will be punished by running thirty laps,” he says as he ties my shoes -- too tightly, might I add.

Thirty laps?

I’m stunned. It feels as though Atwood is intentionally trying to torment me over something that can easily be explained.

“Well, go on,” he says impatiently, standing when he is done tying my shoes. He glares down at me with those orange eyes and I can’t find it in me to defy him, so I get up and start running.

Right now, I feel lonelier than ever. I just want to go back to my old school, my old home, my old life. I don’t care how meager it was -- I just want to go back.

As I run, my emotions finally start to spill out and I begin to cry. Atwood stares at me from the bleachers. If he can see my tears, he clearly doesn’t care.

I don’t understand why my mate is punishing me so much.