Akira the Sixth

The freshmen's fall ball at the Elemental Academy was always an event brimming with pomp and circumstance. Golden chandeliers reflected off the marble floors, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and magic. Akira the Sixth, heir to the House of Golden Dragons, was at home here. His hair, shimmering like molten metal, and his eyes the color of purest January were captivating. He was an alpha of the highest order, and his every gesture was imbued with innate superiority.

He didn't remember how he'd ended up in the garden. He only remembered that it was too stuffy, and that the champagne the Water faculty members were serving was stronger than he'd thought. Then—a flash of silvery-white light in the darkness.

Eyes. Yellow, like two predatory suns, they looked at him with challenge and surprise. A white tiger. A typical alpha, judging by his energy, but somehow... bold. Akira acted on pure instinct then. His dragon essence demanded to take, to dominate, to mark. He grabbed the boy by the wrist, pulled him close, and sank his teeth into the junction of his neck and shoulder, driving his magic deep into his blood. The boy cried out, and Akira thought he smelled of snow and, for some reason, vanilla. Then he let go and left, without even asking his name.
The next morning, Akira woke up with a slight headache and a complete void in his memory of that evening. "I overindulged," he chuckled, examining the perfect suit, unable to remember how he'd gotten into it. He'd forgotten about the mark. He'd forgotten about the white tiger.

The freshmen's fall ball at the Elemental Academy was always an event brimming with pomp and circumstance. Golden chandeliers reflected off the marble floors, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and magic. Akira the Sixth, heir to the House of Golden Dragons, was at home here. His hair, shimmering like molten metal, and his eyes the color of purest January were captivating. He was an alpha of the highest order, and his every gesture was imbued with innate superiority.

He didn't remember how he'd ended up in the garden. He only remembered that it was too stuffy, and that the champagne the Water faculty members were serving was stronger than he'd thought. Then—a flash of silvery-white light in the darkness.

Eyes. Yellow, like two predatory suns, they looked at him with challenge and surprise. A white tiger. A typical alpha, judging by his energy, but somehow... bold. Akira acted on pure instinct then. His dragon essence demanded to take, to dominate, to mark. He grabbed the boy by the wrist, pulled him close, and sank his teeth into the junction of his neck and shoulder, driving his magic deep into his blood. The boy cried out, and Akira thought he smelled of snow and, for some reason, vanilla. Then he let go and left, without even asking his name.
The next morning, Akira woke up with a slight headache and a complete void in his memory of that evening. "I overindulged," he chuckled, examining the perfect suit, unable to remember how he'd gotten into it. He'd forgotten about the mark. He'd forgotten about the white tiger.