The Alpha And His Beautiful Monster

Victoria's POV

Our teacher was in the middle of her discussion when an unexpected commotion erupted in the classroom. Gasps filled the air, especially from the girls. I heard the faint murmurs and the shuffling of seats, but I was too drained to care. My head rested on my notes as I absentmindedly scribbled random figures in my notebook.

I was Victoria Winner—the queen of this school. I didn't waste my time on trivial matters.

Whoever had walked into our classroom didn't matter to me. Or at least, that was what I thought.

"Good morning, Ma'am." The voice that greeted our teacher was deep, rich, and commanding.

Something about it sent a strange tingle down my spine, an unfamiliar shiver that left me unsettled. And I hated how my body reacted to it.

I clenched my pen tightly, forcing myself to remain indifferent. I didn't care who it was.

Yet, the magnetic pull of his voice made me want to listen to it from dusk until dawn. I clenched my jaw, trying to shake off the feeling, but like a cruel twist of fate, my mind drifted back to him.

I suddenly remembered the reckless stranger from this morning—the one who had nearly caused our car to spin out of control. I had clung to my seat because I was terrified as Jason, my driver, struggled to regain control.

The one who had walked away as if nothing had happened.

He was tall and dressed in all black. Exuding an aura of quiet danger and confidence made my skin crawl with frustration. I hated that I remembered every detail about him.

His leather jacket hugged his frame, and he walked like he owned the world. When his gaze momentarily met mine as he crossed the pedestrian lane, completely disregarding the rules, I spent my time thinking about him since I saw him.

And most of all, I hated that, and even now, he lingered in my mind.

"So, you are the transferee?" My teacher's voice broke through my thoughts. I kept my head down since I didn't care and refused to care.

"Please introduce yourself to the class." She said, and silence followed.

I expected him to answer right away, but something restless stirred inside me when he didn't. I bit my lip, fighting against my curiosity, but the urge grew unbearable. And before I could stop myself, I raised my head. And met his eyes.

My breath hitched. It's him.

The guy from this morning. The one who had nearly killed us. And yet he wasn't apologetic.

He wasn't surprised to see me. If anything, he looked amused. His sharp, dark eyes locked onto mine, studying me as if he had all expected this reaction. A slow smirk curled at the corner of his lips, and my heartbeat stuttered.

"Good morning, everyone. My name is Oliver Prize, and I hope I can be friends with all of you." His voice was smooth, controlled, and laced with the kind of arrogance that made my blood boil.

Despite my anger, I couldn't ignore how good he looked.

His jet-black hair was effortlessly tousled as if it naturally fell into place without him even trying. His sharp, chiseled features held an almost ethereal perfection—high cheekbones, a defined jawline, and piercing dark eyes that had a glint of mischief.

And his lips.

Those stupid, perfect lips.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to snap out of whatever spell he was unintentionally casting on me.

Stop looking at his lips, Victory.

I had to remind myself—he wasn't just some random, dangerously attractive guy.

This was him.

The reckless lunatic who had nearly killed me this morning.

A surge of anger pulsed through me as the memory replayed in vivid detail.

The blaring horn.

The screeching of tires against the pavement.

The sheer terror that had clenched my heart in a suffocating grip.

All because of him.

And now, here he was, standing in front of me, completely unfazed—as if none of it had happened.

As if he hadn't nearly ruined my morning.

As if he hadn't almost gotten me killed.

I clenched my jaw, forcing my gaze away from him just as the classroom erupted into excited whispers.

The girls were practically swooning, whispering to one another like they had just seen a celebrity.

I wasn't. I felt drained and frustrated.

And, most of all, I am pissed off.

I barely participated in the rest of the lesson, which was utterly unlike me. Typically, I was the first to raise my hand, eager to answer before anyone else.

But today?

I only spoke when called on, my mind too distracted, too focused on the irritating presence sitting just a few seats away.

I hated how my mind kept replaying him. I hated that he was still there, occupying space in my head when he had no right to be.

I hated him, yet when the class ended, I did exactly what I shouldn't have done: I stayed.

Everyone else lingered, too, eager to talk to the new guy and hope to catch his attention, but I had a different reason.

I had another reason for confronting him: to put him in his place.

I strode forward, my heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor as I closed the distance between us.

"So, your name is Oliver Prize?" I asked, my voice steady despite the storm of anger simmering beneath it.

The room fell silent, and a few gasps rippled through the air. It wasn't just because I had spoken to him; it was because I had never shown interest in any guy.

Ever.

But Oliver?

He looked amused.

He turned to face me fully, his smirk deepening like he had been waiting for this moment.

"Yes, sweetheart, I am." He replied. I nearly exploded as my jaw clenched, my hands curling into tight fists.

He did not just call me that.

"Don't sweetheart me," I snapped. "You have no right to call me that."

Oliver chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh? And what should I call you then?"

I ignored his question, taking a sharp step forward, my anger spilling out.

"How dare you cross the pedestrian lane on a go signal?" My voice rose, heated. "Do you have any idea that I almost died today because of your recklessness and stupidity?"

Oliver tilted his head slightly, still wholly unfazed.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, his smirk never faltering. "Because from where I was standing, your driver was the reckless one. He almost hit me."

I almost lost it.

"You walked into traffic like an idiot!" I yelled at him.

"And?" Oliver shrugged. "I was on a pedestrian lane. Technically, I had the right of way."

I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but then he stepped closer, and he was so close that I could almost feel his breathing. I instinctively took a step back until my back hit the teacher's desk.

I froze. Oliver smirked, his presence dominating the space between us, and he trapped me without even touching me.

His eyes held an unspoken challenge, daring me to move, daring me to break first.

"Oh, baby," he murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerously low octave. "I know a lot about you... even your deepest secrets."

A shiver ran down my spine. I should have pushed him away. I should have snapped back with some biting remark.

But I couldn't because I was too focused on his lips. And before I could even register what was happening, Oliver kissed me.

My breath hitched, my entire body locking up in pure shock as his lips brushed against mine. A feather-light touch at first—

Teasing.

Testing.

Then, he deepened it. And the worst part? I kissed him back. It was instinctive and automatic like my body had betrayed me before my mind could catch up.

I hated myself for it, and I hated him for it.

But for those few stolen seconds, I forgot about everything. The world around us melted away.

The voices in the room became distant, like a mere echo.

The only thing I was aware of was him and his lips against mine, the warmth of his body so close, the way he tasted like something forbidden, something dangerously intoxicating.

And then, just as suddenly as he had kissed me, he pulled away.

A smug, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he gazed down at me, amusement flickering in his dark eyes.

"That," he murmured, tilting his head slightly, "was unexpected, wasn't it?"

My heart pounded violently against my ribcage. I could still feel the ghost of his lips on mine, and it infuriated me.

How dare he-

My hand moved on its own.

SLAP!

A sharp crack echoed in the classroom as my palm connected with his cheek.

Gasps filled the air. Oliver's head tilted slightly from the impact, but he didn't look surprised. If anything, his smirk only grew.

He slowly turned his head back to me, his eyes gleaming with something I couldn't decipher.

"Feisty," he mused, rubbing his jaw. "I like that."

I gaped at him, my entire body trembling—not just from anger, but from something else.

The smug glint in Oliver's dark eyes told me everything I needed to know. He knew what he had done. He knew he had crossed a line; worse, he enjoyed watching me struggle with it.

Something I refused to name. I wanted to scream. I tried to erase what had just happened.

I wanted to forget how it had felt. I stood there, completely frozen, my mind still reeling from what had just happened.

I should have stopped him before it happened. I should have seen it coming.

I should have hated it. But the problem was I didn't. And that realization alone sent my stomach into knots.

I clenched my fists at my sides, willing my heart to stop pounding so erratically, willing my breath to even out, but the damage was done.

He had kissed me. And I had let him. Oliver Prize had just stolen something from me.

Something I had guarded fiercely.

Something I had sworn to save.

And worst of all, I had broken my own rules.