Page 1 of In Deep
Chapter 1
I’m late.
I peer at my watch, willing the second hand to slow the heck down and give me the few minutes I need to race up these stairs and along the corridor to my class. If I don’t get my arse in gear, this will be the third time I’ve been late this term. My shift at the museum gives me mere minutes to sprint across town in time for my lesson with Professor Michael.
The tutor has a temper like a rhinoceros with a sore head, and I don’t fancy the verbal bashing that will come my way if I step through that door any later than 3pm. He already has it in for me. I stick out like a cactus in a rose garden among the perfectly polished students, churned out by the posh private schools. Students whose parents Professor Michael can guarantee will tip him, come the end of term, with a priceless bottle of whiskey or maybe an all-expenses-paid trip to the Caribbean.
Not my parents. They’re not even contributing to my fees, let alone my rent.
And then there’s the fact I’m an omega, something the professor clearly believes does not belong on his course.
No surprise there. I’m used to that. Cropping up places I shouldn’t. Defying people’s expectations.
My family always assumed I’d present as an omega, like my mum, and her mum before her, and her mum before her, and blah blah blah. They’ve been telling me since I was a little girl what an omega can and can’t do. Where they do and don’t belong. What they can and can’t be.
An omega can’t be an astronaut. A rocket scientist. Alone.
Well, maybe they’ll end up being right if I don’t get up these stairs and into my class.
My rucksack swings from my shoulder, yanking down on my elbow, and I flip it back up, readjusting my grip on my armful of books and continuing to leap the stairs two at a time. I peer up at the dizzying twist of the staircase.
Why couldn’t there be a goddamn lift? My heart is pounding in my chest and my lungs are rasping. And why is his room all the way up there in the heavens?
I glance at my watch again. Three more minutes have swept past in a blink of an eye and I don’t know if I am going to make it.
Would it be better to skip the tutorial altogether? Except this topic is a tricky one and I could use the lesson to get my head around it. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand it otherwise. And I can’t fail. I scraped my way into this college by the skin of my teeth and I’ve been hanging on by my fingernails ever since.
I take another gasp of air, and sprint around the bend in the staircase, running straight into something solid.
For a moment, I wobble on my toes, dropping my pile of books as I flap about, trying to grab something to stop myself from tumbling. My fingers alight on soft material and I grip it. But instead of righting myself, I end up pulling whatever I’ve grabbed with me as I fall backwards.
I close my eyes and brace myself, ready for the hard impact against my spine. But when I hit the ground, it’s not as bad as I think, arms cushioning my fall and preventing a hard whack. Still, the air is knocked straight from my lungs and it takes a few seconds to breathe again, partly because of the substantial weight pressing down on top of me.
I open my eyes.
I’m nose to nose with a stranger, and it is his large body now pressed down on mine. I blink and then stare straight up into his eyes, a dark emerald green, that have the mesmerising quality of an alpha’s.
And then I taste it in my mouth, cinnamon and cedar. Vivid and strong and masculine.
Definitely an alpha.
Shit!
“I’m sorry,” I gasp, frozen by his stare. I could wriggle free, but I’m not sure writhing against this stranger when he’s pressed on top of me is wise.
A genuine smile spreads across his face and dimples his cheeks. His lips are plush and his teeth white. But this is where the boyish quality ends. His jaw has the brutish cut of an alpha’s and he definitely has the physique of one too.
“Are you OK?” he asks, making no effort to move.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to prevent myself from taking a deep inhale. Doing that would have my eyes rolling back in their sockets. His scent is delicious. “I think you broke my fall.”
“You’re welcome.” He doesn’t move. In fact, he appears quite comfortable as his gaze flickers across my face. “You’re an omega,” he states simply.
“Yes.” I swallow. As usual, I took my blockers this morning to mask my own scent, but up-close they’re pretty useless. I shift a little, but he doesn’t seem to notice, his eyes continuing to roam from my face down my throat and to the neck of my top.
A slight frown creases his forehead. “I thought I knew all the omegas at Crestmore College.”
If I wasn’t trapped underneath him, I’d shrug. I never bothered joining OmegaSoc when I started as a fresher last term. It seemed cliche and suffocating to me. I’d been the only omega at secondary school, and I didn’t want it to be the factor that continued to define me here at college. I was aiming for a new start and a new me.
