Page 24 of Want It All

It took about a week for things to return to normal between Sebastian and me.

After the first night spent in his nest, he came back to our bed, but things were strained for the first few days.

He didn’t talk about it again, and I didn’t volunteer to start.

Even when the tension between us had eased, I wasn’t sure that he forgave me; it was more that he couldn’t hold a grudge any longer than that. My golden love was too good-natured.

He clearly hadn’t told Rose; her manner towards me didn’t change. She treated me as she had before: with nervous warmth.

Something had changed between her and Byron, though. She went bright pink every time he opened his mouth, and his grey eyes went dark with heat every time he looked at her.

And he, clearly, did know what I’d done.

He didn’t speak to me for days; not until he was standing behind me in the dinner line, Rose and Sebastian safely tucked into seats at the end of a table, deep in a teasing argument about a contestant on a reality TV show.

‘I can’t believe you did that,’ Byron said, his voice low.

Despite myself, I stiffened. No matter how comfortable I was in my own strength, knowing that Byron Griffiths was looming behind me, angry , wasn’t easy. ‘And what, exactly, did I do?’ I said flatly.

‘Risked the safety of two people you had no right to risk.’

I turned and looked him in the eye, watching them darken like a storm. ‘I understand that you’re angry about Rose, and I can’t take exception to that. But you have nothing to do with my relationship with Sebastian. Take your outrage elsewhere, because I don’t want it.’

He studied me evenly. ‘You really are something, Tristan Grace.’

Unaccountably, my stomach twisted into an uncomfortable knot. I couldn’t easily identify the feeling – was it guilt? Shame? – but I knew it wasn’t good.

A moment later, I was doubling down. I could tell him, I supposed, explain everything I’d done to make sure there had been no risk – but why would I care what he thought about me? He wasn’t Sebastian. In a few years, he’d be nothing but a handsome memory.

I raised a disdainful eyebrow and turned away. It didn’t matter what he thought. Sebastian and Rose had always been safe, and the return for these few weeks of discomfort would be membership to the Revels, and Sebastian winning the Banksia Prize.

Byron didn’t say another word. When we walked back to the table, each with two plates in hand, he fell into step beside me, but it was for show; he didn’t want Rose to know that something was wrong.

It wasn’t hard for either of us to pretend, because we’d never been overly chatty anyway.

All he had to do was hide his repulsion for me, and Rose would never know the difference.

I was more worried about the attraction between Rose and Sebastian.

Sebastian knew it couldn’t last, but Rose didn’t; I could tell he was trying to draw it out for as long as possible.

I had a strong suspicion that the length of time would only make it worse when it came to an end, but Sebastian’s choices were his own.

When we studied together, Rose practically perched on his lap.

In class, Sebastian dragged his desk so close to hers that their knees touched.

Neither of them paid much attention to Heathcote, too busy messaging and biting back smiles at secret jokes.

I took copious notes and shared them after class without comment.

Heathcote would have been a good teacher, if he weren’t a bigot. He was knowledgeable and passionate, and although I’d studied some anthropology as part of my undergraduate degree, he expanded on what I knew and made it far more interesting than my other teachers had.

I wondered if that was how he’d gotten away with his bias for so long. Most of the students at Banksia were alphas because most of the students at university were alphas. How many alphas would even notice Heathcote’s comments? And how many of them would say something?

I despised him, but I learned a lot.

Byron’s cold shoulder continued as we finalised and submitted our second assessments. Sebastian had been pushing himself in his spare time, making up for his distractedness in class, spending long hours frowning at his laptop in an effort to make sure he got the top mark this time.

After he submitted his essay, he promptly fell asleep on the couch, his brow free from worry for the first time in weeks. I covered him in a blanket, then got a bottle of water and a plate of snacks for when he woke up. After brushing a kiss across his hair, I went for a walk.

A small cluster of students stood on the main staircase, talking. I knew one – a second-year, Jun.

He waved me over. ‘They’re planning a scent party.’

I stared at him. I’d heard the rumours, of course – Sebastian was unnaturally good at uncovering gossip – but I hadn’t really thought they’d risk throwing one; scent parties were very illegal in every state and territory except the ACT.

There were federal laws against large groups of alphas gathering together, but the ACT local government squirmed around them by hosting the parties at official government venues and terming them sporting events .

In other states, they were invite-only and held in warehouses or shitty bars, and anyone attending risked eye-watering fines and a jail term.

Sebastian had encouraged me to drive to Canberra to attend one, but I’d always decided against it.

He was my pack. I didn’t need to find anyone else.

‘Will you go?’ I said to Jun.

He shrugged. ‘Of course. Apparently Banksia hasn’t held one for six years – the old Dean was a legal academic, and there wasn’t much leniency. Carla Griffiths seems more … reasonable.’

‘Hmm.’ I adjusted my shirt. ‘Where will it be held?’

‘In the maze. A week from now.’

I studied him. Jun was handsome, tall and wiry. ‘Do you want to find a pack here?’

He shrugged again. ‘Definitely. Don’t you?’

When I returned from my walk, Sebastian was waiting.

‘You have to go,’ he said, the moment I walked through the door. I rolled my eyes, fishing the handful of lemon myrtle leaves from my pocket and putting them in a tin for him. ‘It’s your chance, alpha.’

‘I already have everything I need.’

It was his turn to roll his eyes. ‘ Tris .’ He bounced over and threw his arms around my neck. ‘You need another alpha for me . If I ever go through a heat, one knot won’t be enough.’

‘I’d manage,’ I said stubbornly. Part of me suspected he was right, and part of me hated the notion of Sebastian needing someone else.

‘You’re amazing, babe, but you’re not a god,’ he said practically. ‘ Please go to the scent party. It would be incredible if you found someone here.’ He paused, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. ‘Maybe I could go off my suppressants one day.’

I shook my head at the blatant manipulation, smiling; for all his talk of babies, Sebastian would need time – and probably some therapy – before he willingly went off his heat suppressants.

Even so, the thought of him being in heat was more tempting than it should have been.

I loved it when he was desperate and begging, and the thought of him slippery with heat-slick and ripe for breeding was my every fantasy come true.

‘I’ll think about it,’ I said, and I did.

Three days later, I was still thinking about it as we ate lunch in the dining hall.

Sebastian and Rose were scrolling through her social media feed, their heads close together, murmuring to each other and occasionally breaking into peals of laughter.

Byron’s eyes were on his eReader; he was eating one-handed so he could tap to the next page with the other.

I had my laptop open and was skimming articles about omega scents in medical journals.

A notification popped up on my screen.

I clicked into it, and felt my lips curl up. Heathcote had marked our second assessments in record time, and I was satisfied to see a comment reading Second in cohort – well done at the end of my essay.

Sebastian let out a loud whoop as he scrolled his phone, making everyone in the dining hall look across at us. When they saw it was him, their frowns smoothed out.

He had that effect on people.

‘First?’ I said wryly.

He nodded. ‘Ninety-eight,’ he said, which was impressive, even for Sebastian.

Rose was silent as she scrolled her own phone; Byron fished his from a pocket and did the same, giving a quiet, satisfied rumble a moment later. He didn’t seem inclined to share his grade, so I did my own investigating, and a moment later, I was in his profile in the student administration system.

Ninety .

I blinked at my laptop screen. I’d known that he was smart, but I didn’t think he’d be quite that good, coming from a completely different undergraduate discipline.

Rose was still frowning at her phone, so I clicked to view her grades.

Fifty-two .

I frowned at my screen. There’s no way .

‘You okay?’ Byron murmured to her.

I looked up in time to catch Rose forcing a smile. ‘All good,’ she said with false cheeriness. ‘It isn’t what I wanted, but it’s not too bad.’

Curiosity got the better of me. I clicked into the learning system, then brought up Rose’s essay and comments.

Weak argument. Awkward phrasing. Poorly supported. Needs fleshing out. Citation?

I read her essay. I picked up my coffee cup, drained it, then read it again.

It was no different to mine. We’d used the same sources and had similar arguments. I’d used one extra source to support one of my points, but her writing was stronger. She didn’t need the extra source to demonstrate her hypothesis.

In no world was it an essay that deserved a barely-pass mark.

Anger simmered low in my stomach. I checked James’ essay, then Alessia’s. Their marks were undeservedly low, too, though not as low as Rose’s.

Heathcote was still targeting them. Sebastian had escaped because Heathcote knew I’d speak up if I noticed anything unfair about his grades.