Page 7 of Want It All

Sebastian chatted easily, as if we’d been friends for years. I answered when I could; my tongue had never felt so heavy, as if I’d somehow tied a knot in the middle of it.

He was just so fucking pretty .

Angelic was the word I’d use. All golden hair and bright blue eyes and perfect features, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist, as if he’d walked out of a painting and hit the gym along the way.

His alpha was taller, his shoulders of a similar breadth, and he was pretty, too, but in a different way; he was guarded where Sebastian was open, severe where Sebastian was welcoming.

Tristan had dark, curling hair and green eyes that shone behind vintage-style glasses, a stubborn jaw, forearms to die for, and a soft English accent that was a danger to knees everywhere.

I could tell he wasn’t keen on his beta’s sudden interest in me, but it was clear he was indulgent where Sebastian was concerned.

He wasn’t anything like the other alphas I’d known, but there was something about the way he carried himself that let me know I’d be foolish to underestimate him, an edge of dominance that sharpened the very air around us.

I inhaled, but couldn’t catch even a hint of their scents.

Frustration spilled through me. I’d bet every dollar I had that Sebastian Worthy smelled as good as he looked.

A heartbeat later, I told myself to be grateful. I was here for a degree, not a pack. His scent didn’t matter. Their scents didn’t matter. I didn’t need to know if they were nature scents, or lifestyle scents, or food scents. I didn’t need to know if Sebastian’s scent was as lovely as his eyes.

‘Sociology next?’ he suggested, and I shook myself, trying not to think about the weight of his arm as he settled it casually back around my waist. Sociology wasn’t for me, but I hadn’t seen another soul for two days, so I let myself be pulled towards another common room.

It was less crowded than the history mixer.

A woman with a chain of bites around her neck welcomed us with a bright smile and answered Sebastian’s questions without once losing her composure.

I tried not to stare at her bites – there were four different marks, at least – and pushed down the spark of jealousy that was catching in my belly.

A degree, not a pack , I reminded myself, looking away – straight into the stare of a pair of men in the corner, who were watching Sebastian and me as if we were their next meal.

I looked away immediately, rubbing the back of my neck without thinking, uncomfortable. A moment later, Tristan stepped between us and them, blocking them from my sight.

I looked up at him, surprised, but his eyes were fixed on the woman speaking to Sebastian. His expression was polite, as if nothing had happened.

I forced myself to listen to the woman with the bites.

She seemed like a beta, though without scent, it was impossible to tell for sure.

Alphas were easier to pick; most of them walked around as if they owned the place and everything in it.

Sebastian had drawn the possible-beta into describing the details of the sociology curriculum, and she was smiling freely, utterly charmed by him.

I shifted my weight; in response, his hand tightened on my hip.

As a touch, it was almost nothing. A warm weight on a curve of flesh, the slight pressure of fingers cupping.

At the same time, it felt like a claiming.

Mine , Sebastian was saying, through the gentle touch.

His , I said, by letting him keep his hand there.

Tristan – a still presence beside us – only solidified it with his watchful gaze and easy, ready stance.

I swallowed. That was the problem – well, one of the problems – with being an omega.

No matter how capable I was, no matter how intelligent, how hard-working, how independent, my instincts still wanted a pack, and they were much less picky in their search for one than they should have been.

They wanted alphas who would protect me, and betas who would worship me.

They didn’t care about much outside that, working off the assumption that if an alpha or beta smelled good, that was all that mattered.

I didn’t want that. Well, I did , but it wasn’t all that I wanted. If I found a pack – a million years from now – I didn’t just want complementary scents. I wanted a pack I could be myself with, a pack that would value me for my brain as much as my designation.

I wanted love .

I repressed a snort. I was more likely to find a scent match than love.

Most alphas viewed omegas as vessels for their knots, and nothing more.

Omegas were rare, and in some places overseas, we were prizes in state-run lotteries, given to packs like a holiday house or a shiny new car.

It wasn’t that bad in Australia – we were protected by the law, if not by popular sentiment – but I’d still heard stories about kidnaps, trades, and auctions.

I only had to remember my uncomfortable attempt at art school to know that those stories could have been true.

It was why the Omega Support Agency tracked and monitored us so closely.

Well, that was the reason the government gave, anyway.

They wanted us registered and contactable for our protection.

There were eye-watering fines and jail time for unregistered omegas; that threat was enough to have most omegas on their database within days of emergence.

‘Thank you so much for your time,’ Tristan said, and I realised I’d missed everything the woman had said. ‘We should get going.’ He gave her a wide, warm smile; Sebastian wasn’t the only one who could ooze charm when he wanted.

‘In a hurry?’ Sebastian said, amused, as we walked from the room. His hand stayed on my hip; he didn’t seem inclined to move it, and I wasn’t about to ask him to.

‘Neither of you are going to choose sociology,’ Tristan answered. ‘You’re not interested, and Rose wasn’t even paying attention. Plus, those alphas in the corner were getting on my nerves.’

Sebastian frowned. ‘What alphas?’

I side-eyed him, realising that he hadn’t noticed them. He hadn’t needed to. Tristan had, and that was all that mattered.

I wondered what it would be like to have someone watch out for you like that.

I didn’t realise what the next mixer was until we’d walked into the common room, at which point I knew immediately it was literature because he was there.

I knew more about him now: that his name was Byron; that he was the son of Banksia’s new Dean; and that his Honours thesis on the modern Gothic had been published in a prestigious journal soon after he’d graduated.

Along with that, I’d watched the scene in the dining hall a hundred times in different posts on Banksia’s social media app, seen the horror dawn in his grey eyes after his voice wound through the dining hall.

And I also knew what he’d said after I’d left. That he’d hurt anyone who did anything I didn’t want.

I hadn’t quite forgiven him, but knowing it had been an accident – and knowing he’d tried to make it better by bringing me food for the last few days – went a long way.

He was trying to make himself seem smaller, keeping his hands in his pockets and his arms tight by his side as he spoke to a later-year student, but it was like asking a mountain to shrink.

He dominated the room regardless, and not just because of his size.

There was something about him that drew the eye; I wondered if he knew it, if the black clothes and the hunched shoulders were his way of trying to fade into the background.

He went still as he noticed me, his stormy eyes tracking from my feet to the top of my head, as if making sure I was all there. They fixed for a moment on Sebastian’s hand, still hot on my hip, before he blinked and returned his attention to the conversation.

I exhaled shakily.

‘Fuck, he’s gorgeous,’ Sebastian said under his breath, dipping his head closer to mine. I eyed him sideways; he shrugged. ‘What? I’m allowed to look .’

‘He’s …’ I began, then trailed off, struggling to find the right word. He – Byron – was too masculine to be beautiful, but handsome wasn’t right, either; something about him was too hard for that. ‘Yeah,’ I said at last. ‘He is.’

‘We heard he’s been bringing you food.’

I gave Sebastian a sharp look. ‘You heard ?’

He grinned. ‘Okay, we saw trays outside your room and assumed it was him, because the kitchens will only deliver during term time. We were just checking you were alive, I swear.’

‘It could have been anybody,’ I pointed out, though he was right.

When his mother had visited me, offering apologies on behalf of herself and the university administration in a sincere, stricken kind of way, she’d suggested they set up a camera outside my door – a suggestion I’d accepted.

I may have checked it around mealtimes. For safety reasons, obviously. Absolutely not to ogle the alpha.

‘He emailed me,’ I blurted out. ‘To apologise.’

Sebastian’s gaze flew to my face. ‘Was it a good one?’

It had been really good. Too good, even. ‘Yep.’

‘So why aren’t we over there?’

I narrowed my eyes. ‘Why are you invested?’

He grinned at me. ‘Who wouldn’t be?’

My eyes darted back to the big alpha. He straightened, and the woman he was speaking to eyed the way his chest expanded.

‘Um,’ I said, my mind suddenly blank.

Sebastian laughed; his fingers tightened as an excited-looking student came over to speak to us. ‘Hi! We’re wondering about …’

I tuned Sebastian’s chatter out; I’d loved English in high school, but I wouldn’t choose literature as my speciality.

I was almost certain that Sebastian wouldn’t choose it, either, but he kept asking questions regardless.

Tristan had stepped away, although not far, and was having an intense conversation with an equally intense-looking alpha.

A movement by the door caught my eye, and I saw that the alphas who had watched us at the sociology mixer had followed us here.

‘Omega,’ one growled. Without thinking, I pressed myself into Sebastian’s side.

The room fell silent, waiting. I waited, too, because I couldn’t do anything else. They were blocking the door, my only escape.

‘Walk with us,’ the other said, and Sebastian trembled.

I cleared my throat and looked them in the eye.

It was hard for omegas to meet an alpha’s gaze; our instincts told us to lower our eyes, to stay safe, not to challenge their dominance.

They both had brown eyes, short brown hair, and matching broad, tall frames; they almost looked like brothers.

‘No, thank you,’ I forced out, managing to keep my tone polite.

I was proud that my voice didn’t shake.

The feeling only lasted for a moment because, as one, their expressions turned thunderous. ‘You want to try that again?’ one of them said, drawing himself to his full height, as if that would somehow change my mind.

I knew what they were trying to do. It was how omegas got trapped in unsuitable packs or were abused by alphas who kept but never bothered to bond them.

Every alpha was dominant; it was what they were.

And some misused that power by manoeuvring betas or omegas into situations where they couldn’t say no.

‘I don’t,’ I managed. Sebastian’s fingers were digging into my hip and I concentrated on the pressure instead of ducking my head and wriggling into his arms like I wanted to. ‘I don’t want to walk with you. I don’t want to walk with anybody .’

I said it as loud as I could, so that every person in the room could hear.

One of them snarled, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

‘I think she made herself clear,’ the intense-looking woman with Tristan said; her unimpressed expression wouldn’t have been out of place at the front of a classroom full of teenagers. ‘Either come in and talk about the literature specialisation or move on to your next mixer.’

Sebastian huffed a tiny laugh. The dark-haired alphas exchanged a look, then melted away from the doorway.

I sagged against Sebastian, my knees suddenly shaking.

‘No, you don’t,’ he said softly, holding me up. ‘You brave little thing. Stand up straight like the badass you are, Rose.’

Tristan strode towards us, his expression tight, and I realised he’d moved since the last time I’d seen him – he’d been standing between us and the door.

Opposite Byron, who’d moved to do the same thing.

I raked in a breath, realising that I hadn’t been in any danger. They’d both been there, standing between us and the other alphas.

Byron’s stormy gaze fell on me, questioning.

‘I think I’ve had enough,’ I said softly.

The student speaking with Sebastian exchanged a glance with the intense-looking woman. ‘We’ll report them,’ he said. He nodded to a corner of the room, where another woman had her phone out. ‘Julianne recorded the whole thing.’

‘I’d appreciate it, thank you.’ I forced a smile and looked back at Sebastian. ‘Would you walk me back to my room?’

‘Of course,’ he said immediately, and steered me gently towards the door. Tristan fell in behind us, before Sebastian paused in the doorway, looking back. ‘Alpha?’

I glanced back, too, but he wasn’t talking to Tristan.

He was talking to Byron .

Who followed us out, silently.

He didn’t say a word the whole way. Sebastian chattered, not seeming to require responses, and Tristan interjected occasionally, but Byron was silent.

As was I.

I thanked them when we got to my room, uncomfortable with how much they’d done for me. Before I unlocked my door, Sebastian enveloped me in a hug.

I froze, but it was so … nice . He was tall and his chest was broad and hard; his arms shut out the world. I breathed in, inhaling the scents of soap and washing detergent, underlain with the metallic tang of canceller. I could have stayed there for hours, but he let me go.

‘See you tomorrow, Rose,’ he said, and dragged Tristan away with a grin.

I blinked after him.

‘Was there a mixer you missed, but wanted information from?’

I turned to face Byron, startled. His hands were back in his pockets, and he’d stepped back, giving me plenty of space.

‘Archaeology,’ I managed.

He gave a curt nod, then gestured to the door. ‘Make sure you lock it behind you,’ he said softly, before turning and walking away.

I slipped inside and did as he said.

Some hours later, I heard a rustling outside my door. When I checked my camera, there was a brochure on the floor outside it.

My lips curved when I opened the door to pick it up. So you’re interested in archaeology? it read.

And on top of it rested a posy of sunny, golden wattle flowers.