Page 2 of In Doubt

It isn’t until the end of the lecture, when I’ve wriggled out along the bench, my bag on my shoulder, heading down to the lectern to say hello to the professor, that I meet the alpha.

Suddenly, his scent is stronger, so much stronger in my nose, and I halt as a large, unfamiliar man stalks towards me. He’s taller than me by a good foot at least, his frame broad and muscular, his entire presence domineering and intimidating. But his face … golden hair flops into his murky blue eyes as he grins at me with soft lips.

Instantly, my spine stiffens, my blood running cold in my veins.

The way he’s looking at me, predatory, self assured, as if he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he’s going to snare me in.

It’s familiar, so familiar.

I can feel my hands begin to shake, and I clutch them together in front of me.

“Omega,” he says, and the name makes me freeze. “I’m Jake.” He offers me his hand and I jolt. He’s shining the full beam of his alpha charm in my direction. It’s dazzling. He is beautiful.

And maybe if I was seventeen I’d have fallen for it, been fooled by the easy manner, the arrogance, the charm, and walked willingly straight into the waiting trap. Just like I had done. Just like I did with the man I thought loved me. The man now in prison.

But I’m not seventeen anymore. I’ve learned my lesson.

I know the dangers of an alpha like this.

“Mr Grantham!” the professor calls, and I jerk my head around to see her stepping down from the raised platform, a wide, welcoming smile on her face. “So glad to have such an outstanding student join us here at Crestmore.”

I peer up at the alpha as his piercing gaze swings from me to the professor and watch as he skips down the final steps and greets her, the conversation flowing between them easily. As I hang back, pretending to fiddle with the straps of my bag, I learn that he studied at Cambridge, came top of his year, and I shrink back clutching my bag to my chest.

But I don’t miss their words as I scurry away.

“You’ve got a rival for the top spot on this course, Mr Grantham. The research spot isn’t guaranteed to be yours.”

“It will be,” he says firmly, no doubt in his voice.

1

Giorgie

Rain drums on the windscreen as the wipers swish left and right, sloshing the water away. Beyond the window, the grey road is empty and the lush green fields running away towards the horizon are sopping wet.

I wriggle on my cardigan, shivering a little in the cool air, cursing another chilly June day and turning to peer out my passenger window. Tiny gullies of water run down the pane, smearing my view and blocking the road sign announcing the number of miles until the airport.

We’re sloshing through the puddles at speed. I’d usually berate my brother for it.

Not today. Today I’m keen to arrive. Yet even at the speed we’re hurtling, the journey takes ages.

I shuffle on my seat, tugging at the seat belt, flicking through the radio channels impatiently. Finally, I snatch off some jazzy song we can’t really hear over the beat of the wipers anyway and twist in my seat.

“You really didn’t have to drive me,” I say, grinning at him. We both know he did. He knows how much this trip means to me and how much I want him to see me off.

Ric snorts.

“You’ve packed your blockers?” Ric asks me for the one millionth time. I’m surprised he didn’t inspect my luggage before we left the house.

“Yes,” I answer. “And before you ask, I already took one today. There’s only one alpha going on this trip anyway, Ric, and trust me, he hates me as much as I hate him. Everyone else is a beta.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know who you might meet out there, and Egypt is a long fucking way to come and rescue your sorry arse.”

This timeIsnort. The archeological dig is literally in the middle of the desert. The nearest town is an hour’s drive away. Apart from the other archeologists – who are going to be more turned on by the bits of broken pottery they’re digging out of the ground than some omega girl – there won’t be anyone else around.

“I’m going to be fine,” I tell my brother, resting my hand over his on the steering wheel. “I’m not a baby anymore. I can look after myself.”

“I know you can, Giorgie,” he says softly, his eyes flicking from the road to mine for a moment. “It doesn’t mean I don’t worry. It doesn’t mean I won’t be wearing away the floor as I pace back and forth, waiting for you to return to Studworth.”