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
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
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 stand at the gates of Ridgecrest Academy, and it’s nothing like I expected. The place looks more like a fortress than a school. Stone walls, iron gates, and high towers loom over the campus, reminding me that this isn’t just any academy. It’s where they train the next generation of Alphas, Betas, and Omegas. Correction—where they train Alphas to lead, Betas to serve, and Omegas to submit. This place is designed to churn out obedient Omegas, perfect little packages ready for Alphas to claim.I grip the strap of my bag, trying to ignore the itch of discomfort crawling up my spine. I don’t belong here. I never wanted to be an Omega, and I sure as hell didn’t want to come to Ridgecrest. But rules are rules. Every Omega has to come here the year before their heats start, learn how to be the perfect partner, the ideal submissive.Not me. I’m here because I want to survive. I’ve spent the last few years preparing to be anything but that. My hands grip the strap of my duffel bag a little
I watch him walk away, my hands tightening into fists. He’s not even that remarkable: bigger than most Omegas, curly hair, glasses and incredibly nerdy.Who the hell does this Omega think he is? What did Jacob call him—Tyler, right? I only caught a glimpse of him on the list, didn’t pay him much attention. Should have. But now that I know, now that I’ve seen the way he had the audacity to brush me off, it’s burned into my head.Nobody ignores me, especially not an Omega. He didn’t even flinch, didn’t bat an eye at me. Omegas are supposed to defer, supposed to feel the pull, the instinct to submit. But Tyler just looked at me like I was nothing, walked right past me like I was another face in the crowd.I grit my teeth, watching as he disappears into the dorm building with Jacob. Jacob’s laughing, talking to him like they’re best buddies already. Typical Beta behaviour, desperate for any Omega’s attention. Whatever. Jacob’s irrelevant. It’s Tyler who’s gotten under my skin, and that’
I head out of the dining hall, my tray still clutched in my hands, adrenaline pumping through me. I didn’t even realise how fast I was walking until I reached the tray drop-off area and slammed it down. The clattering sound echoes louder than I intended, drawing a few stares from students nearby. I force myself to breathe, unclenching my fists as I walk toward the exit.Landon’s stare is still burning in my mind, the way he sat there, smug and confident, like he was waiting for me to crack. I hate that guy. Every Alpha in this place is the same—thinking the world should revolve around them, that they can bend people to their will just because they were born with a little extra testosterone. Landon’s the worst of them. The king of Ridgecrest, strutting around like he owns the whole damn academy.I walk out into the courtyard, letting the morning air cool my skin. Students are milling about, going to and from class. I blend into the crowd, trying to get lost in it, but my mind keeps c
I give Tyler a few days to breathe. Let him settle in, get comfortable—make him think he’s in the clear. That way, when I finally move in, it hits him harder. See, people like Tyler need to learn their place, and I don’t mind teaching the lesson. He’s resistant, sure. That’s why I’ll enjoy breaking him.Every time I spot him around the academy—usually with Jacob—he’s got that same focused expression, his head always in a book, those glasses slipping down his nose. It’s almost laughable. He doesn’t even notice the stares, doesn’t seem to care that Alphas watch him with interest, or that they’re all waiting for the moment he slips up and someone claims him.But no one touches him. They know better. They’ve seen me watching him, and they know that I’ve staked my claim, even if Tyler doesn’t realise it yet.I’ve been patient. But now it’s time to push.When I catch him later, alone, near one of the quieter parts of campus—near the back courtyard, where no one goes after class—I know it’s
I rush out of the dining hall, heart hammering in my chest, barely tasting the food I just scarfed down. It feels like everyone’s eyes are on me, like the whole damn school knows I’ve got a target on my back. Landon’s not going to stop. I can feel it in the way he looks at me, the smug arrogance rolling off him every time he corners me. The way his pheromones hit me yesterday—fuck, I don’t even want to think about it.I keep my head down, weaving through groups of students still hanging around after dinner. The sky’s darkening, and I’m grateful for it. Fewer people. Fewer Alphas. I just need to get back to my dorm, shut the door, and block it all out.But as I make my way toward the dorms, my heart races faster. I hate how Landon made me feel—like I couldn’t control my own body. The way my knees buckled, the way I whined. I never want to feel that helpless again. I won’t.I pick up my pace, barely noticing my surroundings, until—Wham.I smack into something—or someone—solid. My brea
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