Page 21

Jude

My apartment feels different with Jolie in it. Warmer, somehow. She’s curled against my side on the couch, her head resting on my chest as we watch Notting Hill . The scent of her floral shampoo mingles with the chamomile tea cooling on the coffee table.

“Do you think it’s really like that?” she asks during the scene where Hugh Grant stumbles through his bookshop explanation. “All awkward and charming and accidentally perfect?”

“In London? Maybe.” I adjust my arm around her shoulders, marveling at how natural this feels despite us both being Omegas. “Though I suspect real life has fewer orchestral swells.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Jolie smiles at me before turning back to the movie. On screen, Julia Roberts laughs that famous laugh, and Jolie tries to imitate it.

“Oh darling,” she says in an exaggerated British accent, “I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

The attempt is so ridiculous that I burst out laughing. “That was terrible and Julie Roberts is American in the movie.”

“Terrible?” She sits up, mock-offended, her accent growing thicker. “I’ll have you know I studied at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts.”

“Oh really? And what did they teach you there?”

She clears her throat dramatically. “Well, first you must hold your pinky just so,” she demonstrates with her teacup, “and then you must say ‘bloody hell’ at least three times per sentence.”

“Bloody hell, that’s brilliant!” I play along, attempting my own accent.

“Bollocks! You sound like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins .”

We dissolve into giggles, and for a moment I forget everything—my complicated life, my recent heartbreak—including the fact that this beautiful girl is technically my student.

But when was the last time I laughed like this?

Really laughed until my stomach hurt and tears pricked my eyes?

Years. It’s been years. The realization sobers me slightly.

Jolie must notice the shift in my mood because she settles back against my chest, her fingers absently tracing patterns on my sweater. “This is nice,” she says softly.

“It is.” I stroke her hair, dark strands sliding through my fingers like silk. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How easy this feels.”

“Mmm. Omegas aren’t supposed to get along this well. We’re supposed to be competitive, enemies…territorial.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re female and I’m male,” I suggest. “Different dynamics.”

She tilts her head to look at me. “Or maybe we’re just both tired of pretending we don’t need a connection.”

The honesty in her voice makes my chest tight. When did I become so starved for simple human warmth that sitting with a student on my couch feels like the most intimate thing I’ve done in years?

“Can I tell you something?” I ask.

She nods against my chest.

“I was the quiet kid at school. The only male Omega in my year, maybe in the whole district. Nobody knew what to do with me. Not the teachers, not the other students, certainly not my parents.” The words come easier than I expected.

“I spent most of high school convinced I was some kind of mistake.”

Jolie’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently.

“It took me years to feel worthy of love. To believe that being an Omega didn’t make me less than.

” I pause, remembering those dark years of self-doubt.

“And then one day, this pack approached me. Three Alphas who said all the right things, made all the right promises. They courted me properly, made me feel cherished, special.”

“What happened?”

My throat tightens. “They brought home a female Omega. A scent match for one of them. Suddenly I went from beloved pack member to...an inconvenience.”

Jolie sits up completely, turning to face me. Without a word, she wraps her arms around me, holding me tight. The simple comfort of it nearly undoes me.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers against my neck. “That’s awful.”

“It would be worse if I’d been claimed, but they obviously didn’t feel me.”

Her breath hitches. “Feel you. That’s the missing thing, isn’t it? Everyone talks about scent matches, but I don’t have that yearning for perfumes. I have a deep need to feel someone.”

I smile and nod. “Exactly.”

“Can an Omega feel another Omega?” she asks.

“I believe so. I also think being an Omega doesn’t mean you have to accept whatever scraps Alphas offer you.”

We hold each other for a long moment, sharing the weight of similar pain. Finally, she pulls back, her amber eyes serious.

“Can I tell you my story?”

I nod, settling back against the couch cushions as she finds her words.

“My stepfather,” she begins hesitantly. “He was...he planned to claim me, and keep me pregnant for years, and then he was going to sell off my Omega children.”

“Fuck!”

“My mother and I ran. We’ve been running ever since.” The simple statement carries enormous weight. I can see the cost of telling me in the tension around her eyes, the way her hands tremble. I know she wants to tell me more, but I won’t push her until she’s ready.

“Thank you,” I say quietly. “For trusting me with that.”

“Will you—“

“I won’t breathe a word,” I promise. “To anyone.”

Relief floods her features. “Thank you.”

The movie plays on, forgotten, as we sit in comfortable silence. But Jolie’s presence beside me feels like a gift I don’t deserve.

“I should probably get you home,” I say eventually, though the thought of her leaving makes my chest ache.

“Should you?” She echoes my words from the diner, a small smile playing at her lips.

“Do you want to stay?”

“Is that an invitation?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.”

She studies my face for a long moment. “I’d like to stay. If that’s okay. You make me feel safe.”

“It’s more than okay.” I take her hand and pull her off the sofa and lead her away.

My bedroom is simple. I have minimal furniture, but books are stacked on every available surface. Jolie examines the titles on my nightstand while I gather extra pillows from the closet.

“Austen, Bronte…” she reads. “You have excellent taste in literature.”

“Says the girl studying molecular biology.”

She grins, settling onto the bed in her pajamas. I join her, keeping a respectful distance despite every instinct urging me closer. The bed suddenly feels enormous and intimate at the same time.

“This is probably the most scandalous thing I’ve ever done,” she admits, pulling the covers up to her chin.

“Sleeping in your professor’s bed?”

“Yes.”

The quiet admission breaks something open in my chest. I turn onto my side, studying her profile in the dim light filtering through the curtains.

I hate that I’m in a position of trust and I shouldn’t have invited her into my home.

I certainly shouldn’t have allowed her to stay.

But I’m struggling to separate all of that from my attraction to her.

I have to fight the urge to pull her into my arms. I shouldn’t blur the lines anymore than I already have.

“Jolie?”

“Yes, Jude?”

The breathless way she says my name sends molten heat down my spine. She turns on the bed. Her thighs press against mine and for the first time in years, my cock throbs.

“Can I—“

Her eyes are bright despite the darkness. And the tension crackles in the air between us as we consider if this is right. “Can you what, Jude?”

The sass in her voice makes me smile, and like she knows how I’m struggling between my trust as her professor and my instinct to have her in my arms, she whispers, “Just do it.”

I don’t know if she moved first or me. But when our lips crash together, everything else falls away. I drag her closer to me, my cock hard between us. She doesn’t seem to mind, as I devour her mouth like I know this is our only time. We’re both Omegas, so that’s a good possibility.

Her hands find the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair as she pulls me closer. This is so fucking good. My cock is so hard as my lust climbs harder. I want her so fucking much. I’m out of control, needing more. But I know I can’t go any further.

Her teeth dig into my bottom lip. The sting doesn’t hurt, but it sends a zing through my body. I pull away from her.

Watching as her tongue slides over her lips and her finger reaches to my mouth.

“Sorry, I bit you.”

“I’m not.” My mouth crashes onto hers again, despite how much I know we need to end this.

I can’t get involved with another Omega. I know she’ll leave me for an Alpha or a pack in the end.

“Jolie, we need to stop,” I whisper against her lips.

“I know,” she breathes back. “I know.”