Page 4 of Want It All

I knew immediately that I’d made a huge fucking mistake.

The colour fled her cheeks and her jaw went tight. Her knuckles were white as her fingers tightened around her fork.

Perhaps with the intention of using it – on me.

The dark-haired woman across from her started, her eyes wide, her lips parting in an astonished o ; the news was clearly a surprise.

You fucking fool, B , Tina’s voice said, disgruntled. You just outed an omega.

I hadn’t meant to, but my intentions didn’t matter.

I’d been told that omega students at Banksia House rarely disclosed their designation to their peers and sometimes graduated with the other students none the wiser, but then I’d seen her, covered in scent cancellers – there was no trace of natural perfume in the air – and yet so obviously, blatantly an omega.

And a fucking delicious one at that, all curves wrapped in a plaid pinny and cream silk shirt, her thick auburn hair pulled back into a loose bun.

Her light brown eyes had looked me over with interest, but now shone with a mix of fury and unshed tears.

I’d just fucked up her life, after all.

Omega , my alpha growled. Frightened. Sad. Make it better.

I can’t make it better , I told him. I caused the fucking problem .

‘Omega?’ Whispers began to circle the room, which was a surprise to literally no one. This place was overflowing with alphas, some already building packs, and I’d just announced the prize of all prizes – an omega who was here .

I’d made her a walking target.

I took a step forward, an apology forming on my tongue, but she looked deliberately down at her plate. With a quiet dignity I never could have mustered in her place, she gathered up her meal and glass and took them to the waiting bay, most of her food untouched.

A woman stepped towards her, her eyes dark with intent. ‘Omega –’

I snarled.

The sound ripped through the room; the other alpha straightened. It wasn’t just because of the sound; she’d caught sight of my monitors.

No one wanted to fuck with an alpha who was at best unpredictable, and at worst, dangerous.

At least not on the first night of orientation week.

The woman stepped back, giving the omega some space.

The omega didn’t look at me; I didn’t expect her to. She just walked with a straight spine through the dining hall, disappearing into the maze of corridors that made up the bowels of this pretentious hellscape.

It was then I noticed that other students had their phones out, their camera lights blinking.

Might as well give them a finale.

‘If anyone touches her without her express and ongoing consent,’ I ground out, my voice dangerously low, ‘or makes her feel uncomfortable, or so much as looks at her if she doesn’t want it, I’ll tear their fucking arms off.

’ I wouldn’t do any such thing, but they didn’t know that.

I pinned the woman who’d approached her with my best glare; she dropped her gaze to the ground. ‘Just try me .’

I spun on my heel and stormed from the dining hall, guilt like a weighted blanket across my shoulders.

Fuck, B – you couldn’t have waited until class started to make a scene?

‘Helpful, Tina, thanks,’ I muttered to the memory voice.

My phone vibrated against my thigh; my monitors lit up with a matching flash. I fished my phone from my pocket, knowing I had no choice but to answer. ‘Hi, Dr. Ford.’

‘Byron.’ My APF liaison officer was always polite and well-mannered. ‘Your mother just called me.’

If I’d had any doubts about how quickly the rumour mill worked at Banksia House, I wouldn’t any longer. Someone in the dining hall must have live streamed the entire fucking thing for my mother to hear about it that swiftly. ‘Dr. Ford –’

‘To be clear, Byron, I’m calling to ask how you are.’

I inhaled slowly. Dr. Ford wasn’t bad. In fact, he was great.

But he got paid to keep an eye on me, and it was a job he took seriously.

I couldn’t help but feel like a toddler, or something squirming under a microscope.

‘I feel like an utter fool. And a complete asshole. I can’t believe I did that. ’

‘I saw your face,’ he said gently. ‘It wasn’t intentional – it was a gut reaction. You were surprised. Being an asshole is generally a deliberate choice.’ He paused. ‘How did you know? That she was an omega, I mean? Aren’t you all taking scent blockers?’

It was a difficult question to answer. She just was , as if it were something so innate she couldn’t hope to hide it.

She wasn’t smaller than everyone else – it was a popular misconception, and one encouraged by TV, books, and film, that all omegas were tiny – and nothing about the way she looked made it obvious.

Anyone could have auburn hair, brown eyes, and a cute button nose.

It was the way she felt – as if she should have been at the centre of the room, at the centre of everything . As if I should have fallen to my fucking knees and prayed for her to notice me, to let me serve her, to let me worship her like the goddess she was.

‘I’m not entirely sure,’ I said, because it was the only answer I could give.

There was a short silence. ‘What will you do?’

I stopped in the corridor and looked out the window.

The view was of Banksia’s grounds, then all the way down to the cliffs and the sea, made inky by the oncoming night.

It was pretty, even if I generally preferred things to be wilder, a little less tamed.

‘I’ll try to apologise, I guess, although I’m sure she won’t want to hear it.

I won’t force my company on her. The least I can do is leave her alone. ’

‘You could try an apology from a distance – an email, perhaps. Something she could read in her own time, in her own space. It could be less intimidating.’

He meant that I’d be less intimidating, but he was right, either way. ‘That’s a good idea. Thanks, Dr. Ford.’

‘I’ll check in tomorrow,’ he said. ‘And Byron?’

‘Mmm?’

‘You’re doing really well. I’m proud of you,’ he said quietly, and ended the call.

I stuffed my phone back into my pocket. It was nice to hear, but moving forward sometimes felt like walking through mud, as if I’d trekked for days, weeks, months – but when I looked back to see how far I’d come, it seemed like no distance at all.

And as much as I loved them, my parents didn’t make matters any easier.

When they’d told me that mum had been offered the position here, I’d thought for a moment she and dad would come alone. But then she added that she’d negotiated a place for me, too, and any illusions about newfound autonomy flew straight out the window.

I couldn’t mind, though, not really. Not with what my parents had been through. Even though most twenty-seven-year-olds didn’t stay quite so close to their parents.

‘Most twenty-seven-year-olds aren’t feral ,’ I muttered to myself.

On the plus side, my apartment was in the student accommodation, not with my parents in the staff wing. They had said pointedly that they’d check in often, but the reins were looser than they’d been before.

My stomach interrupted that train of thought with a loud rumble, reminding me that I’d left the dining hall without eating.

I scowled out the window. The omega’s plate had been almost full when she’d returned it to the service bay.

Fuck .

She might have had some food in her room, but I certainly didn’t. And while I could head to my parent’s apartment to steal a sandwich – or even some bacon, if my dad hadn’t eaten it all – she might not have been here long enough to make friends who could provide the same.

‘Well, this will be embarrassing,’ I said to the window.

I headed back to the dining hall. All the chatter stopped the moment I stepped foot inside. I ignored the sudden silence and the loaded looks and joined the line for food. While I was waiting, I sent my mother a message.

I know you saw what happened. I need a favour. The omega didn’t finish her food. I need to take her some, but I don’t know where her room is.

Mum must have seen the message immediately, because three dots appeared on the screen, showing she was typing. They disappeared a moment later, and I knew she was weighing up what to do.

That isn’t something I can tell you, B.

My father called a moment later.

‘South wing, first floor, room fourteen. Her name is Rosemary. Love you, B, you silly goose,’ he said, and hung up.

I sent him two emojis – a heart and a goose.

When I had a tray laden with two plates of dinner food and piled with different desserts, I walked to the south wing.

My apartment was in the east, and another floor up.

I didn’t like where her room was: she was close to the stairwell, and my instincts hated that anyone might walk by her private space, but there was no good place to put an omega here.

A corner room would be too quiet, with too few people to help if something went wrong, and too many ways she could be penned in; a room in the middle of the wing would see her surrounded by alphas.

‘Not your problem,’ I told myself.

Her door was, unsurprisingly, closed. I put the tray down on the plush carpet and knocked.

‘Omega?’ I called softly. ‘My name is Byron. I know it won’t mean much, but I’m sorry for what happened in the dining hall. I noticed you didn’t finish eating, so I brought you some dinner.’ I paused. ‘Would you prefer the zucchini pie or the roast chicken?’

There was no answer.

‘I know you don’t want to talk to me, which is both totally understandable and shows impeccable taste on your part, but I’m leaving food here regardless, and I’d prefer to leave something you’d like to eat.

I don’t really want to guess, because I don’t know you at all, and will absolutely get it wrong.

’ There was no response, but I caught a faint scuffling sound, and suspected she was looking through the door’s peephole. ‘Chicken or zucchini?’

‘Zucchini.’

Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper. Even so, I soaked it in, memorising the sounds.

‘Good choice.’ I picked up the plate with the chicken and grabbed one of the cutlery packets. ‘Good night, omega.’

She didn’t open the door until I was out of sight, and I couldn’t blame her. As I climbed the stairs to the second floor, I heard the soft hiss of a door sliding over carpet, and the clink of cutlery as she picked up the tray.

I would have been lying if I said I didn’t feel a stab of satisfaction at the thought of her eating the food I’d brought to her, the food I’d chosen.

It was an instinctual thing, the alpha beneath my skin preening at the notion of serving the beautiful omega.

If she were mine, I’d want to make sure she always had the best of everything – preferably from my own fork.

If my alpha tried to fuck with my meal planning, I’d eat them , instead .

I didn’t hear Tina all the time anymore.

I heard her when I needed advice, or when she would have shaken her head at me – or knocked me up the back of mine.

She was always right, and this time was no exception, no matter what my instincts had to say about it.

Alphas had one main job: to protect. Sometimes, ensuring safety was physical; that was why my six-foot-six frame was draped in muscle, despite me spending most of my time on my ass with my nose in an eReader.

Sometimes, ensuring safety was psychological.

An alpha can fuck up a mind as easily as they can fuck up a body, Tina had told me once. Remember that, B.

As if I could ever forget.

When I got to my apartment, I flicked on a streaming service and started a comedy I’d watched a hundred times, because I knew there was no way I’d be able to concentrate.

I shoved food past my lips, chewing and swallowing until it was all gone, but I hadn’t tasted a thing. When I finished, I realised something.

The omega – Rosemary – was on the first floor. In the single rooms.

I didn’t have a pack, but I’d been given a pack room simply because my frame wouldn’t fit on the smaller beds.

It meant my apartment had two bedrooms instead of one, with king beds in each, and a third room nestled between them with a low ceiling and small windows that could be used as a nest. There was a second door to one side – securely locked, of course – which opened into my neighbour’s apartment, so that bigger packs could have more space if needed.

The nest in my room was empty, still smelling of new carpet and fresh paint, but at least it was there.

The single rooms didn’t have nests, I remembered. But nests weren’t just for heats. They were an omega’s sacred space, a place they ruled, a place where every detail was to their liking, somewhere they felt entirely safe.

Did the administration think Rosemary wouldn’t need one?

I pushed my plate away and grabbed the Banksia brochure, frowning. The rules around taking scent blockers and wearing cancellers were strict; I skimmed through them.

Omegas will remain on heat suppressants during teaching periods and mid-term breaks .

My frown grew deeper. Suppressants were fine; nine times out of ten they worked with no problems and minimal side effects.

But it was a mistake to think they were infallible.

It usually came down to a clash of medications – generally antibiotics – but I’d also read a study where a scent match had triggered a heat, despite the omega being on suppressants.

Not your omega, not your problem , I reminded myself.

I couldn’t help but feel responsible for her, though. I’d taken away her secret and her safety. The least I could do was keep an eye on her.

Surely I owed her that much.