Page 5

Della

“You will always adopt the submissive position.”

Ms. Arkwright, head of Haven Academy, could be discussing paint drying with such a bored expression. But no, this is our omega lesson, and it’s one I both dread and am endlessly fascinated by.

As a beta, I’m getting a glimpse into things I have no reason to know about. Alphas and omegas have biology to guide their instincts; I don’t. Here, I get to satisfy my curiosity about how an alpha-omega pairing functions behind closed doors.

Like me, Ms. Arkwright is a beta. Everything about her is serious and restrained. Dark brown hair styled in a short bob and serious brown eyes. She is a lover of navy pantsuits and flat square-toed shoes.

She continues, “Even if your alpha suggests otherwise, he will always want to do the mounting.”

As she writes on the whiteboard, I lean toward River, whispering, “How does she know all this?”

River shrugs. “She’s always taught these lessons. I don’t think she trusts an omega to teach them, even if there was one on staff. Obviously, an alpha can’t teach it.”

“Why can’t…” My voice trails off as it becomes crystal clear why it would be a bad idea having a delicious smelling alpha talk about fucking with a roomful of sheltered omegas. I’ve never been to an orgy, but I have a feeling things would soon descend into one.

“But why can’t they bring in an omega teacher?” I whisper.

“I don’t think she likes to give up control.”

“She should’ve been an alpha with that controlling nature,” I mutter.

Ms. Arkwright glares at me. “Something you’d like to share with the class?”

I sit up in my chair. “Um, sorry. I was just confused about the…” I scramble for an excuse. “The, uh, mounting.”

She tilts her head. “What about getting on your hands and knees confuses you?”

The woman doesn’t so much as blink.

“Just the, uh, the time I will have to stay on them.” I sit up, warming to the topic as I take advantage of the chance to ask questions I’ve been dying to ask. “With the knotting and all, won’t my knees get sore?”

Alphas knot omegas. A knot is a muscle at the base of an alpha’s cock that swells and locks him to the omega when he orgasms. It’s as much about an alpha's need to dominate an omega as it is about an omega's submissive need to be dominated.

During the last lesson, Ms. Arkwright said it heightened the pleasure for both.

And it’s also about procreation.

I’m sure the odd exception is wandering around somewhere, but everyone knows that alphas and omegas create alphas and, more rarely, omegas. Betas create betas. Alpha and beta pairings result in a beta more often than an alpha.

She opens her mouth to speak, but I’m not even close to being done with my questions yet. I wave my arm around, getting excited. “And about the cum and the slick, where does it all come from? It can’t just keep coming and coming and?—”

“Miss Farrow,” she says severely. “I can see you’re getting excited.”

“I’m just curious.”

Betas can’t take an alpha’s knot. An omega’s body is literally designed for it, producing slick during sex to make it possible.

It wouldn’t just be agonizing for a beta, it would probably tear something inside me, which has killed any desire to be even the slightest bit interested in being knotted by an alpha.

“Your alpha will guide you.”

Which tells me nothing.

“But what about male omegas?” I dart a rapid glance at Aden sitting at the table on my right. “I know they can’t get pregnant, but do they have slick? I thought slick only came from a vagina and cum from?—”

“Miss Farrow,” she bites out.

Some girls sit up in their seats, as curious as I am, but probably too intimidated or shy to ask the tough questions.

Do I consider an endless flow of slick and cum to be a tough question? Maybe. Is it gross if I think about it for too long? Yes. But do I want to know more than Ms. Arkwright is telling me? Damn right I do.

“Now, back to the lesson.”

With a sigh, I recline in my seat, watching an opportunity to learn even more slip away. My broken perfume bottle not only limits my time in this school, but someone is bound to notice when I don’t go into heat.

I suppose I could pretend and spend six days flipping through a magazine and eating chocolate in a nest pod. As relaxing as that sounds, I don’t have the time.

I’m here to save omegas, not roll around in silk sheets and cashmere pillows.

But that does sound very nice.

“Ms. Arkwright?” Shannon calls out.

The beautiful red-haired and brown-eyed omega is sitting in the row behind me, but her hand will be stuck up. It's always up. She likes to answer all the questions. Even the ones she doesn’t know.

Where was she during my humiliating math lesson? I really could have done with her enthusiasm then.

“Yes, Shannon?” Ms. Arkwright releases a tired sigh.

“Will we have a live viewing? My sister said you brought an alpha and omega in to perform, and my mother doesn’t think it’s seemly for me to see.”

I roll my eyes at River, who flattens her smile.

“There will be no live performances,” Ms. Arkwright promises. “The result of that particular performance was…”

“Messy?” I suggest.

“ Disruptive .” Her expression is severe.

In the back row, Tali whispers, “They ran out of rooms in the heat pods. One of the omegas triggered an alpha teacher, and he chased her into?—”

“ Miss Khori ,” Ms. Arkwright cuts in.

“Sorry, Ms. Arkwright,” Tali apologizes.

I make a mental note to ask her to finish that story later.

“We will watch a performance on screen. No scents to trigger any excitement.” She walks to the door, holds it open, and a big guy with tan skin, muscles straining the thin sleeves of his T-shirt, a heavy beard, and gray eyes wheels in a big TV on wheels.

I’ve seen him cheerfully raking leaves and trimming bushes on the school grounds.

He’s more distracting than the TV, and from the sparkle in his eyes, he knows it.

Miss. Arkwright picks up the remote control and turns on the TV.

A willowy blond woman shrugs an almost translucent robe off her shoulders and lies back on a mountain of cushions. A large, dark-haired man with rippling muscles makes an appreciative sound as he follows her down.

Both are a little older than the students in the room, around mid-twenties. This must not be the first time they’ve performed for a camera, because they get right to the point.

Within seconds, the sound of moaning and begging fills the room. There’s a whole heap of thrusting, panting, and soaked sheets from the slick and cum that magically appears out of nowhere.

I’m not shy about sex. I’ve had it. It was fine, and that was that. A one-time experience I didn’t feel compelled to repeat.

Now I’m seeing the other side of the coin. Sex between an alpha and an omega is…

Intense .

I press my thighs together, and my stomach tightens.

I don’t know where to look when he puts her on her knees, grasps her hips, and pounds into her from behind.

Her moan is as desperate as it is wanton, and I’m not the only one fidgeting in my seat.

The gardener is intently observing the screen.

And his smell…

Salted caramel and pumpkin cheesecake, decadent, moreish, but probably very bad for you.

Between the big shoulders, the fierce stare, and that yummy scent, an alpha. Definitely.

A few of the girls have started eyeing him with interest. I’m not big on facial hair. At least, not the amount he’s rocking. It has always made my face itchy to even think about kissing a guy with a beard, but he’s not unattractive from the neck down, and his gray eyes are pretty.

“You can leave,” Ms. Arkwright snaps at him.

The gardener jerks his head to her. He salutes her before walking away, glancing back at the TV as the moaning reaches a fever pitch.

I bite off a laugh when he bumps into the doorway.

As he steps out, his eyes land on mine.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh grows louder. More urgent. So do the moans and heavy breathing.

Ms. Atkinson inserts herself between us as she closes the door in his face.

As she turns to me, I focus on the TV and the alpha fucking his omega.

“He was totally checking you out,” Alicia whispers as we leave class and head for lunch before dance lessons in the ballroom.

I glance at her, still hot and flustered from our omega class. “Who?”

“The hot gardener.”

I snort. “Sure.”

“We all saw it,” Tali adds. “Shame he’s poor.”

I twist to face her. “What?”

“He’s an alpha with those pheromones, but he’s poor.” Her nose scrunches. “What a waste.”

“How is that a waste?”

“Regardless of how hot he might be under that scraggly beard, he will remain single, probably forever.” Lila releases a sad sigh.

“Or a poor omega can have him,” Alicia says. “I’m not mating with an alpha who has to work. What if he lost his job? What would happen to me?”

This is the type of omega that Haven aims to create. Extremely dependent and so submissive that they have no interest beyond looking good and being the perfect hostess.

Haven Academy kills brain cells.

Visiting instructors and teachers are a regular thing here. We have a fencing lesson tomorrow afternoon, something new to differentiate a cultured Haven Academy omega from a run-of-the-mill omega.

Aden and a few others claimed a table in the dining room and waved us over after we filled our trays. Usually busy blowing something up, I’m looking forward to this meal, if only so we can talk more about our omega lesson.

“Why does the math professor hate you?” Aden asks as I place my tray with salmon salad, a bottle of water, and an apple down beside him.

I shrug. “Not sure.”

“What makes you think he hates her?” asks a male omega who smells like lemon buttercream frosting. He must not have been in that class. He waves at me. “Hey, I’m Michael.”

I wave back. “Delilah.”

I dive into my salad as Aden fills him in on my math class from hell. When he’s done, the students who weren’t in the class turn to me with varying degrees of pity and alarm.

“He’s an ass,” Alicia mutters.

“Yup.” I mix more dressing into my salad. It’s not enough, but they won’t give me more. In Haven, every calorie counts. “I was thinking about love.”

“ Love ? You’re in love with the math professor?” River scrunches her nose.

Snorting, I shake my head. “No way. It will be a cold day in hell when I fall for that guy. What if you fell in love with someone and decided not to match at the end-of-year ball?”

Silence.

“I don’t think it’s something you can opt out of,” Lila says, her forehead furrowed.

“And anyway, the teachers have picked out the best, most eligible alpha bachelors.” Shannon twists the lid off her bottle of water.

“That’s more important than love?” I ask. “What if you met your scent match?”

It’s rare, and it only happens with an alpha and omega when their scents call to each other. Scents are the hallmarks of our society. Betas don’t have potent pheromones. We’re perfectly ordinary. Only alphas and omegas have epic, passionate love affairs fueled by scent compatibility.

Tali shrugs. “What’s the point of thinking about it? We match with a wealthy alpha, and that’s the way things are. Even if I met my scent match, what if he was poor? My mom would never agree. A legacy marriage is more important to my family than a scent match.”

She digs into her salad, no hint of bitterness or anger. Just calm acceptance.

“What is it, Delilah? Did you leave someone you love to come here?” Aden asks.

I jump, startled, when someone drops a fork. When I look, everyone has their heads down, eating.

"Isn’t there more to life than this?” I gesture with my fork around the dining room, where omegas are eating, laughing, and chatting at long, dark mahogany tables beneath sparkling crystal chandeliers.

“ This is our life,” he says quietly. “Walking away from this would mean walking away from our family. And our home.”

My eyes widen. “Your parents would disown you if you mated with someone you loved?”

His smile is bitter. “Reputation is everything. Love and scent matches are for the poor and the na?ve.”

What an awful way to look at the world. I hadn’t thought I was the romantic type. Hopeful but realistic, but damn if this place isn’t making me realize how cold rich people can be. I must be more into romance than I thought.

Aden’s gaze fixates on a spot behind me. His frown prompts me to ask, “What is it?”

The cold-eyed math professor is looking this way, tray in hand. He is still hot. He is still rocking the heck out of a tweed jacket, but he is also still a jackass under that handsome exterior.

I lift my chin and hold his gaze, making it clear that I’m going nowhere. Then I turn away from him to smile at Aden. Professor Vincent humiliated me in class, but he hasn’t scared me off. “So, about the omega lesson…”