Page 11 of Want It All

A kookaburra’s call wound through the air.

It wasn’t close, but I wondered what had set it off.

The afternoon was hot, and it was a stupid time to be outside, especially so for me, wearing all black and heavy boots.

My skin was getting burned and I was sticky with sweat; I could catch enough of my own scent to know that I needed a shower and another dose of blockers.

Scent blockers weren’t perfect, no matter how much the government protested otherwise.

Their mantra was responsible scent management and that was fine – most of the time.

Low doses of blockers were added to the water supply, which covered the alphas, betas, and very few omegas in most workplaces, minimising their scent profiles.

Additional scent-blocking tablets were mandatory for anyone in an educational institution, medical establishment, legal workplace, government department, or jail.

But according to Dr. Ford, blockers could be affected by hormonal changes, anxiety and stress, illness, meeting a scent match, and – as evidenced by me in the current moment – just plain excessive sweating, so if you wanted them to work, you needed to be very, very responsible.

Banksia provided medical-grade blockers for students and staff, but it wasn’t like that everywhere.

Blocking tablets were subsidised by the public healthcare system, but they weren’t exactly cheap .

It was just another way that our society silently ensured that certain jobs and types of education were reserved for the rich and for alphas and betas, because omegas needed higher doses than everyone else to mask their stronger scents.

The world isn’t made for omegas , Tina said in my memory again, this time sadly.

I hated hearing her sad. I wished that every memory was happy, that every word that bubbled up from my subconscious was joyful and tinged with her loud laughter. But that wouldn’t be the truth. Tina was made of light and dark, just like everyone else.

My hair blew into my face; I ran my fingers through it, gathering it into a haphazard bun.

The gardens around the manor were lovely, but I craved something wilder. My dad had slipped a brochure beneath my door while I was in class, a map of walks around the Banksia property and beyond. I’d decided on a shorter one to start, mostly because it took me to the cliffs.

The view was breathtaking. The sea was a million shades of blue, and I could hear the waves crash against the rocks below, losing myself in its unceasing, sibilant roar.

Tina had loved the beach. She’d always planned to move to the coast. She loved the slower pace, the heat, the sea breeze, and the tempestuousness of the ocean.

‘That’s enough of that,’ I told myself, standing to brush the grass from my jeans. I was having dinner with my parents later, and they didn’t need me to be morose.

They were already sad enough.

The kookaburra called again, a little closer this time.

The walk back to the manor took me through a patch of bush, and I followed the sandy, meandering path through the trees, enjoying the dappled light and slightly cooler air.

The scent of eucalyptus was thick and cloying, and I hoped some of it would cling to me, disguising my sweeter scent until I got back to my room and could shower and take another dose of blockers.

I always carried extra rut medication – essentially a mild sedative – as it was a requirement of my recovery plan , but I’d need to remember to carry cancellers and blockers in this heat, too, at least until I became more used to the climate.

I reached out to touch the trunk of a gum tree, tracing the mottled grey pattern on its bark.

I’d been lucky enough to travel overseas with my parents a number of times, but nothing quite compared to the beauty of Australia’s south-east. Parts of it were stark, and parts of it lush; parts of it were rocky, and others, verdant.

I’d never felt so much at home anywhere else.

A magpie carolled overhead, then gave a harsher call.

A rustle came from nearby, barely audible; I froze, my heart leaping up my throat as I noticed a smooth undulation of brown and yellow through the brushy undergrowth.

It was moving away from me, so I stood still until the tiger snake’s scales were no longer visible, and when I started walking again, I let my feet fall heavily on the ground.

Fuck .

I’d never been so close to a snake in the wild before. It took a few minutes for my heart to stop racing, and by that time, I was back in Banksia’s gardens.

The manor was as impressive from the back as it was the front.

The clock tower was visible in its entirety from there, a counterpart to the turret at the front of the building.

There were more windows on this side, too; all the better to see you with , I thought, looking up to see the shadows of students moving beyond the glass.

I didn’t know a thing about gardening, but I knew that Banksia’s were impressive, and I caught the scent of lemon myrtle before I saw somebody stepping from the maze.

Tristan Grace .

He was flushed and sweaty-looking, and I had a few moments to study his worried expression before he caught sight of me and his face shuttered.

He looked rumpled, which seemed – even though I barely knew him – to be out of character.

I opened my mouth to say hello, but he gave a curt nod and strode away before I could speak, disappearing back inside the manor as if it had swallowed him up.

One of his hands was full of lemon myrtle leaves; with the other, he shoved something that looked like paper deep in his pocket.

Okay, then .

I frowned after him for a moment, feeling an uncomfortable stab of empathy for the way he’d hidden what he was feeling so swiftly, and with such ease. I made my way across the green, then stopped still as the manor doors opened, and Tristan slipped from my mind entirely.

‘You look hot, alpha,’ Rose said, stepping onto the edge of the green before clamping her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in horror as she turned a delicious shade of pink.

‘I mean, it’s hot, not you’re hot. Not that you’re not hot, but …

’ She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Why is there never a sinkhole when you need one? You look like it’s hot , is what I was trying to say. ’

I snorted. ‘Nice save, omega,’ I said dryly, trying to pretend like every nerve ending hadn’t lit up at the sight of her.

I didn’t move closer, because I could still catch my own scent over the eucalyptus and lemon myrtle, and I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

‘If you’re thinking about a walk, I’d recommend not. I almost trod on a tiger snake.’

‘Well, yes,’ she returned, as if that were perfectly reasonable.

‘That’s what happens when you have a water source next to bushland.

’ She gestured towards where I’d been walking; the north border of Banksia was marked by a river.

I hadn’t gone that far on my walk, and I wouldn’t try, not if there were more of those bitey bastards about.

I wasn’t afraid of them, per se, but I also wasn’t foolish.

Usually.

I tilted my head. ‘What are you doing out here?’

Rose flushed again. I didn’t mean to be dramatic, but I would have happily dedicated my entire life to making her blush. She cleared her throat. ‘I was looking for you, actually.’

I tried very hard not to lose my shit. ‘How can I help?’

‘Well, I was wondering if you might like to study with me.’

I blinked. Study with her? As in, sit next to her or across from her, while she worked? Just being generally in the same vicinity while she existed?

I would get less than zero work done, but fuck yes .

It was my turn to clear my throat. ‘I’d like that.’

She graced me with a tentative smile. ‘Are you free now?’

‘I, ah …’ How do I tell her I need to shower without seeming … gross? I opted for honesty. ‘I think my blockers are wearing off. I need ten minutes to shower and take another dose. Where were you thinking? A study room? Or the First Year Library?’

‘The library,’ she answered, which was probably a good thing; my brain would melt if I spent an hour with her in the close confines of a study room.

‘The library, then. I’ll meet you there.’

She smiled again, wider, this time with a hint of teeth. A jolt of something shot through my limbs, but I waited until she was back inside before I followed her, hoping I was leaving a safe distance.

It was odd, really. A few days ago, I would have happily committed an indictable offence for a hint of Rose’s scent. But now?

I still wanted it, so badly my teeth ached. But there was something … nice … about the tension that made the air sharp every time she was near me.

I took the staircase two at a time, realising when I got to the top that the feeling was anticipation .

Outside Banksia, I would have asked Rose out for coffee, the subtext being don’t wear cancellers , or asked whether she wanted to exchange scent cards.

Either way, that hint of scent would have told us both straight away whether we were compatible, on a biological level, at least.

I didn’t know whether Rose had a scent card here; though the rules didn’t ban them explicitly, they also recommended against bringing them. Without them, we were forced to make connections the way they must have done before the Unveiling – by talking . It was odd and wonderful, all at once.

But if Rose scented me, that would stop.

Immediately. She might like my scent – but there was a much greater chance she would not .

The thought tied my insides in knots. What if we became friends – became more – and I found out her scent was jasmine?

Or a sickly-sweet musk? Or some other scent that made my stomach churn?

What if she hated my scent?