Page 89 of In Deep
My heart thumps into life. My gland pulses against his touch. “Claiming?” I ask.
The scents of the four alphas seem to intensify. I can hear them drawing air into their lungs.
“You know we want to,” Ollie whispers finally. “But you’re young, Omega.”
“So are you,” I point out.
“And you’ve only just started your studies. There is plenty of time.” Seb caresses my gland again as if underlining his words.
“Don’t think it means we don’t want to,” Duncan adds softly, “But it’s important for us that you have options.”
“I have plenty of options right here,” I murmur sulkily.
“You haven’t even talked to your family about this yet, have you, wee yin?”
I shake my head. That is one conversation I am not looking forward to.
Seb twists my head around so I’m eye to eye with him. “Things went wrong for us before, Rosie. If we’d made the mistake of bonding her, imagine the unhappiness we’d be embroiled in now. We need to take things slowly, for our sakes as much as yours. Do you understand?” I do, but I can’t help feeling down-hearted. I guess I was caught up in the romance of it all and my little omega heart feels slighted. Yet, rationally, it’s the right decision.
“So what does that mean?” I ask. “Am I pack or not?”
“Ahhh,” says Zane, his lips curling into that familiar smile, “There’s one final test you have to pass first.”
A test? To pass? And a final one at that? Have these alphas been testing me the whole time?
“What test?” I ask with a frown.
“Bob,” Zane says simply.
Who the hell is Bob?
Chapter 27
“This is Bob. Our coach,” Zane says, squeezing the brakes of his bicycle and bringing us to a halt outside the boathouse. He’s promised to buy me my own bike, but I have a feeling he’s going to drag his feet about it. He enjoys having me balanced on his handlebars, displaying me like a hunter his latest catch.
Bob is not, as I expected, a middle-aged man. Bob is, in fact, a woman who, judging by her lined face and bobbed grey hair, is nearing her sixties. She’s dressed in a tracksuit, a whistle dangling round her neck and a baseball cap pulled over her crown.
“Bob, this is Rosie,” Zane explains as I slide from the handlebars.
“Hello, Rosie.” Bob gives me a curt nod and gestures towards the bench at the side of the river.
The alphas lock up their bikes and unbolt the double doors of the boathouse, disappearing within.
“Can I help set up or something?” I ask Bob.
“Nope, it’s part of the commitment the team made to each other. They each have their own part of the boat they are responsible for checking, maintaining and setting up. The boat is the fifth member of the crew and needs to be in the best shape.”
“OK,” I say, now sure I definitely don’t want to interfere.
Bob jangles the keys clipped to her waist and then vanishes inside the boathouse too.
I tuck my hands between my knees and gaze out across the river. Summer is in full bloom and down here by the water, the vegetation is fresh and lush. Dragonflies skim over the water, their rainbow wings catching the early morning light, and from the corner of my eye I see a flash of vivid blue I think must be a kingfisher.
Behind me, I can hear clangs and clashes and then the pack appears one by one, carrying oars and the boat down to the river. I watch them set up, Bob standing over them, her hands on her hips, offering instructions.
She’s a beta, I can tell by her scent, and a woman to boot, and I imagine she must be pretty good at her job for a pack of alphas to accept instruction from her. In some ways, she holds herself like an alpha, with confidence and ease, but perhaps that has come with age.
Soon, my four boys are climbing into the boat and Bob tells them to row a few lengths to warm up before they do a timed trial.
