That thought lasts all of ten seconds after we step into his dorm.I sit on the edge of the bed, my hands trembling as I try to make sense of everything going on in my head. Landon’s been nothing but supportive, always patient, always understanding, no matter how much I push him. But the more he does, the worse I feel. It’s like I’m failing at being the Omega he deserves, and the guilt is eating me alive.Landon’s sitting next to me, as calm as ever, watching me with that steady gaze. He can probably tell I’m on the verge of breaking down, but as always, he’s waiting for me to say something, to let him in. And that only makes it worse.I can’t take it anymore. The pressure, the guilt, the feeling that I’m not enough for him—it all comes crashing down at once.“You’re too understanding,” I blurt out, my voice shaky. “I’m… I’m a mess, Landon. I’m pushing you away, and you just keep being there for me, and it’s not fair. I don’t deserve you.”Landon’s expression softens, and he reaches
I stand just out of sight, leaning against the brick wall of the garden shed, trying to pretend that I’m not watching them. Tyler, Noah, and Jacob are out there, talking and laughing like nothing in the world could bother them. Tyler’s smile is easy, his body relaxed, and I know he’s in good company. Jacob’s his best friend, and Noah… well, Noah’s a good guy.Pains me to admit that, though.But I can’t shake the way my chest tightens every time Noah leans in a little too close to Tyler or says something that makes Tyler laugh. It’s stupid. I know it is. Tyler’s mine, and Noah knows that. But it doesn’t stop that feral, possessive part of me from wanting to storm over there and pull Tyler away from him.I clench my fists, taking a deep breath to calm the urge. I can’t let this get to me. Tyler deserves his space, and he deserves to hang out with his friends without me hovering over him like some territorial Alpha ready to rip Noah’s throat out for getting too close.But it’s hard. It’
The door to my dorm creaks open, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I step inside and let out a long breath. It’s weird being back here after spending two weeks at Landon’s. The place smells familiar—clean, simple, no hint of Landon’s scent in the air. It’s quieter too, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. After the rollercoaster of emotions I’ve been riding lately, quiet feels like something I can handle.Jacob’s already sitting on his bed, flipping through a book like he’s been waiting for me. He looks up when I walk in, raising an eyebrow. “Well, look who’s finally back.”I chuckle, tossing my bag onto my bed. “Miss me?”“Miss you? Nah, it’s been peaceful around here without your grumpy ass,” he says, smirking. “But seriously, you feeling better?”I shrug, kicking off my shoes and sitting on the edge of my bed. “Yeah, I think so. The mood swings have calmed down. I don’t feel like biting anyone’s head off anymore.”“That’s an improvement,” Jacob jokes, closing hi
The phone buzzes on my nightstand, vibrating against the wood loud enough to pull me from the light doze I’d drifted into. I frown, blinking blearily at the screen, my stomach twisting the second I see the name. Dad. Not Landon’s father, not one of those doting, slightly overbearing Alphas with too much money and too much time on their hands—no, my father. One of them, at least. And not the one who keeps his distance, either. The one I fear.Cold washes over me, tightening around my throat as I stare at the screen, willing the name to disappear, for the call to end unanswered, for him to lose interest. But the buzzing doesn’t stop, and when it finally goes silent, it starts up again almost immediately, as if he knows I’m here hesitating and fighting the instinct to smash the phone against the wall and pretend I never saw it.I shouldn’t answer. I know I shouldn’t answer.But my hand moves before I can stop it, fingers unsteady as they hover over the screen. The moment I swipe to ac
Stepping out of the lecture hall, I stretch my arms over my head, letting out a low groan as I shake off the last hour of mind-numbing statistics. Aiden, an Alpha friend of mine, falls into step beside me, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, his dark blond hair still damp from an early-morning swim.“Professor Walker really thinks we’re all dying to be accountants, huh?” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Swear to god, if I have to sit through one more class like that, I’m switching majors.”I snort. “You’re a business major, dumbass. You think finance classes are gonna be exciting?”“I dunno, man. Maybe I should just go pro, forget this whole school thing. You think the Sharks would take me?”I roll my eyes. “Beats me. But you better figure it out, since your dad’s expecting you to take over the company someday.”Aiden groans, tilting his head back dramatically. “Fuck, don’t remind me. You’re lucky—your old man doesn’t give a shit what you do.”“Yeah, ‘cause he already ha
I move fast, scanning the campus as I head toward the library, my pulse hammering harder than it should be. My mind is still stuck on the way Tyler looked at me—like I was someone to fear. Like I was something he needed to run from.I shake the thought away. No. That’s not fucking right. Whatever’s going on, it’s not about me. It can’t be.I spot Jacob before he sees me. He’s walking with his head down, dark hair falling into his face, earbuds in, clearly in his own world. I don’t have the patience for it right now.I barely check my speed before I step in front of him and block his path. He startles, blinking up at me. “Fuck, Landon. What the hell?” He pulls out an earbud, brows knitting. “You look like you just ran a marathon.”“I need to talk to you,” I say, my voice harsher than I mean it to be, but I’m still too wired to care.Jacob frowns. “Okay? About what?”“Tyler.”His expression shifts immediately, lips pressing into a thin line, his usual playful, bratty attitude vanishing.
I can’t stop crying.The tears keep coming, thick and hot, soaking into Landon’s hoodie as I bury myself in his arms. His scent is everywhere, warm and steady, wrapping around me like a shield, but it does nothing to stop the fear clawing at my ribs.I want to tell him. God, I want to tell him so badly. But the words won’t come out.Landon’s hand moves slowly up and down my back, steady and comforting. “It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs against my hair. “I’ve got you.”I squeeze my eyes shut, my body shaking. No, you don’t. You don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t be holding me like this.Landon’s fingers press lightly against the back of my neck, grounding me. “You can tell me anything, Ty,” he whispers. “You know that.”I do. But knowing it and believing it are two different things.I squeeze my hands into his hoodie, struggling to get my breathing under control. My voice is barely above a whisper when I finally speak. “What would you do if you found out someone you love has a secret?”L
I step out of Tyler’s dorm, closing the door behind me as quietly as I can. My hands are steady, my breathing even, my face blank. But inside, I’m seething.Every inch of me is coiled tight, my instincts screaming at me to do something, to fix this, to make them pay. The only reason I’m not already tearing the fucking world apart is because My Omega is curled up in his bed, exhausted from crying.I kept my touch on him until he drifted off, kept my scent thick enough to settle his nerves. Even when I left, he barely stirred, his grip on my hoodie loosening only slightly.I can’t fix this by just holding him. Can’t take away what happened with sweet words and a promise that everything will be okay.Now that I’m out of the room, though?Now, I move.Pulling out my phone, I scroll to my father’s number and press call. It barely rings twice before his deep, no-nonsense voice comes through the speaker.“Landon.” His voice is sharp, clipped. “It’s late.”“I need the jet,” I say, skipping an
I let it go for now. I know better than to push Tyler when he’s still sorting through a million things at once. I can practically see the gears grinding in his head. I can see the way he’s holding everything in—questions, emotions, grief, betrayal. It’s all there in his posture. Tight. Guarded. Controlled.But I’m not done yet. Not even close.“I need to tell you the rest,” I say, and my voice sounds quieter now, like even I can feel how fragile this moment is.Tyler lifts his eyes to mine, and for the first time since we walked in, they don’t burn with hurt. Just exhaustion.“It’s about Xavier,” I say, my fingers tightening slightly around Xavier’s hand beneath the table. “What they did to him… the reason we’re here now… it’s bigger than what it looks like.”Xavier’s quiet next to me, but I feel him shift, feel the slight tremble in his fingers. He doesn’t look at Tyler—his gaze stays on the table, shoulders just a little hunched, like he’s bracing for impact even though he doesn’t n
I don’t remember the drive over. Not really.I remember the hum of the engine, the low rumble of tires on the road, and the way Xavier’s hand never left mine the whole way. I remember the way my heart sat like a stone in my chest, slow and sick with nerves. I remember trying to breathe around it. But the second we pulled up outside the little private meeting space arranged by my father’s team, all of that faded into one single, sharp thought:I’m about to lose him.Because no matter how many times I rehearsed this conversation in my head—no matter how many versions I tried to imagine—none of them ended with things going back to the way they were.Tyler was my first real friend. My anchor. The one person who made it feel okay to be small sometimes. And now I’m about to tell him that everything he thought he knew about me was a lie.The building is quiet when we step inside. Sleek and neutral, like the kind of place used for off-the-books meetings and private council visits. The securit
The moment Jacob starts pacing, I know it’s going to be one of those nights.He doesn’t even try to pretend otherwise. Doesn’t try to play it off with that lazy smirk he gives when he wants to pretend he’s got everything under control. Tonight, he doesn’t have it. He’s wearing a threadbare shirt I love on him—one of the few pieces in his wardrobe that doesn’t scream “Alpha heir of a powerful empire”—but the way he’s tugging at the hem, running his hand through his hair every few minutes, chewing the inside of his cheek like it’s a damn snack? It’s obvious.He’s nervous, and if he circles past the fireplace one more time, I’m going to throw a pillow at his head.He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. He’s somewhere else entirely, lost in whatever spiraling train of thought his brain has decided to torture him with tonight. His brows are drawn tight, his jaw clenched, and he keeps raking a hand through his hair like it’ll magically produce answers if he does it enough.I’m curled up on
It’s been two hours since Jacob’s call, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it.He sounded… different. Tired, but not just physically. Not like he was exhausted from lack of sleep or overtraining like back at the Academy. This was deeper. Heavier. Like something had been sitting on him for a long time, and only now was he starting to come up for air.The Turner-Alcott family.It didn’t make sense at first. I couldn’t figure out why that name hit me the way it did, like something half-buried in my memory just got kicked loose. It wasn’t just the weight in Jacob’s voice—it was the way he told me to talk to Landon. Not a teacher. Not administration. Landon.Landon’s out on the patio behind our dorm, shirt sleeves rolled up, flipping through a stack of papers for one of his business classes. His legs are kicked up on the table, glasses perched on the edge of his nose—he only wears them when he’s reading for long stretches, and for some reason, the sight of him like that still makes somet
The kitchen smells like cinnamon and coffee and toasted bread, and Xavier’s still chattering behind me while I flip the last of the waffles onto a plate. He’s perched on the counter, legs swinging back and forth, his hair damp from a shower and face clean of makeup for once, not because he forgot it, but because I think today he just wanted to feel simple. Real.He looks good like this. He looks good all the time, but there’s something about this version—barefaced, in one of my oversized sweatshirts, ankles crossed, cheeks flushed with something that’s not stress for once—that just hits different.He’s talking about something he read on one of the gossip threads back at the Academy—some rumor about two bonded Alphas who got into a fight in the dining hall over protein powder or territory or something ridiculous. I’m only half-listening, smiling at the way his voice lifts when he gets worked up, how his hands move when he’s trying to paint the scene for me.Then my phone buzzes on the
Xavier’s practically melted across me, one leg hooked over my thigh, his face buried in my neck. His curls are everywhere, and I swear half of them are in my mouth. He’s still breathing slow, deep and even, but the moment I shift just a little, his fingers twitch against my chest.“I know you’re awake,” I murmur, voice still rough with sleep.He groans dramatically but doesn’t move. “M’not.”“You just responded.”“No I didn’t.”A laugh rumbles low in my throat. “You’re not very good at this.”“I’m amazing at this,” he says, voice muffled in my neck. “I’m playing dead so my Alpha doesn’t get up and leave me.”“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”He lifts his head slowly, finally, eyes still half-lidded and hazy with sleep. But there’s a spark there now, a light that wasn’t always present before. That playful glint I’ve been seeing more and more of—the one that tells me he’s starting to feel safe enough to be himself around me, not just the version he was forced to perform for years.“You al
Xavier’s asleep in my arms. Or at least, I think he is. He’s breathing like it, soft and steady against my chest, one hand curled near his face, the other resting over my ribs like I’ll vanish if he lets go. His cheek is pressed to the space just above my heart, and I swear to god, every time he exhales, something in me settles a little more.The sheets are still damp from when we fell into bed after the bath—too tired to dry off all the way, too tangled up in each other to care. We hadn’t planned it. That wasn’t what the bath was supposed to be. I ran it for him because he needed comfort, and I needed to give it to him. Needed to do something to remind him that the world could still be kind. That he was still loved. But somewhere between the water and the steam and the quiet way he looked at me—something shifted.And it was him. He was the one who let his scent roll out first, thick and heavy and laced with need so strong I could barely think. No hesitation, no fear. Just instinct a
The scent changes before either of us says another word.It’s subtle at first—sweet and familiar, like ripe peaches hanging heavy on the branch, but then it shifts. Grows thicker, headier. There’s heat behind it now, and it hits me all at once, coating my lungs and curling around my instincts like a damn vice.“Xavier,” I murmur, voice low and full of warning. My hand tightens where it’s resting on his hip. “That scent. You need to pull it back.”His eyes flick up to mine, steady and calm. That perfect omega calm that hides all the fire underneath. “Why?” he asks simply, like it’s nothing. Like the sudden ache in my gut and the hard press of my cock against his back is something we can just ignore.My grip tightens again, and I fight to keep my voice level. “Because I’m not gonna be able to stop myself if you don’t.”He turns in my arms slowly, his skin sliding against mine under the water, every brush of his body lighting me up like a fucking fuse. His hands find my chest, sliding ov
Jacob doesn’t speak as we walk through the estate. Doesn’t comment when I hesitate slightly near the front foyer, my body remembering the tension of walking through those doors earlier. He just grabs my hand and keeps walking until we reach the garage doors.When he opens one, I blink.Inside, lined up neatly like something out of a magazine, are cars. Sleek, glossy, expensive as hell. A few motorcycles. And in the back, tucked in the corner, a matte black four-wheeler that looks like it’s seen actual off-road chaos.I blink again. “You want me to drive that?”“No,” Jacob says, grinning. “I’m driving. You’re riding.”I stare at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a four-wheeler.”He shrugs. “Then you’re about to lose your off-roading virginity.”I groan. “You’re unbearable.”He tosses me a helmet from the shelf. “And you love it.”A few minutes later, we’re flying across the property—through the trees, over dirt trails I didn’t even know were there. The wind whips around us, fast an