Page 102 of In Deep
I stroke Duncan’s cheek, then lead him to the bed by the window, the view falling away to the river beyond. I jump up onto the bed and the others lumber on reluctantly.
“Everyone just breathe, OK?” I tell them. “I’m fine. I’ve been dealing with alpha arseholes all my life.” Inside, I’m shaking, but I suppress it, steadying my scent so that I appear calm on the surface. “Don’t let them get inside your heads.”
“We’re going to beat those fuckers,” Ollie hisses, kissing the crown of my head.
“Yes,” I agree, “you’re going to blow them out of the fucking water.”
Chapter 33
Ican’t sleep. The adrenaline from my encounter with the other boat team streams through my veins despite my best efforts, and I’m racked with nerves.
Nerves about the race. Nerves about that conversation with my mum and dad. And nerves about meeting the parents of my alphas. I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft whistle of breath from the alphas around me.
The race plays out in my head again and again – sometimes my boys winning, sometimes them losing. The hours tick by, and eventually the dawn crawls in and the alarm goes off.
The next hour is a blur of rushing to get ready and Bob ensuring everyone has eaten and drunk the right things. Then we’re whisked away to the racing venue, and the anticipation in the vehicle is palpable. My boys aren’t nervous like I am. They’re pumped and ready to go. Pride blossoms through my chest as I watch them talk through their game plan for the ten-millionth time.
All four sets of parents are waiting in a line in the family section when we arrive. I take a deep breath, squeezing Ollie’s hand as he leads me down the row behind the others. He introduces me to three smart couples, all immaculately dressed in expensive designer outfits, the wealth dripping off their wrists and ears.
Each parent shakes my hand politely, a hint of curiosity in their eyes, until I reach the end of the row. There waits Seb’s mum, a tiny omega woman who pinches my cheeks and tells me I’m beautiful before enveloping me in a bear hug.
“I’m so nervous,” she mutters into my ear, “won’t you come and sit with me, love?”
Seb comes up behind me and carefully pries me from his mother’s grasp.
“Easy, Mum,” he grins, squeezing the older woman’s shoulders, “don’t break her.”
“Isn’t she just beautiful?” she repeats to her son this time.
“We think so, yes,” Seb says, meeting my eyes, and I’m surprised his Mum doesn’t melt into a puddle then and there. “We’ve got to go get set up now, lass.”
The others come and stand around us as he kisses my cheek and I squeeze him tight.
“We’ll see you after the race, OK?” Zane says, kissing me too.
I’m such a jangle of nerves I can hardly speak, but I kiss each of my alphas in turn and wish them luck, crossing my fingers and my toes as they leave.
I watch them stroll away, my heart in my mouth until I lose them in the throng of competitors and officials.
“Rosie!” A voice calls from the crowd behind us, and I spot Sophia jumping up and down on her toes, waving at me frantically. I beckon her over, and we take up the chairs to the left of Mrs Thomas. My friend engages the older woman in a cheery conversation about college, and I am eternally grateful. I’m so nervous I can hardly speak.
The river lies mere metres in front of us, and despite the clear summer’s day, the wind is frisky, the water lapping violently against the moorings. Watching its backward and forward motion only adds to my nausea.
But then my eyes are dragged away as applause trickles through the audience, growing in enthusiasm and volume, and I spy the competitors carrying their boats to the water, my pack somewhere in the middle.
“They look good, don’t you think?” Mrs Thomas whispers to me and Sophia. We both nod. They do, confident, relaxed, and for a moment, I feel a million times calmer.
They place their boat down in the water and chat among themselves, Zane saying something which makes the others laugh as they wait for the official.
But then something changes.
I see it almost immediately. Tension ripples through all their bodies, their respective shoulders stiffening. I smell it a second later. And I understand.
That scent. That sickly sweet scent.
Mrs Thomas sniffs beside me.
“What is that gold-digging hussy doing here?” she mumbles, shuffling on her chair. I follow her line of sight to two crews along the bank.
