Page 43 of In Doubt
“Nice of you to join us, ladies,” she comments as we skulk past her to claim our seats. At least Jake isn’t here to see my shame this morning. He is obviously heading straight to the site from his villa. Probably to get a head start on me. I wonder if all that niceness yesterday was one big ruse and today he will screw me over. Try to claim the idea of this new trench location as his own.
That’s what some alphas do. Pretend they like you. Pretend to be kind, and charming. Pretend they’ll take care of you. And then they screw you over. Is Jake one of them? I’m not sure anymore.
“Are you alright?” Sia asks, tucking her shirt into her harem pants as I plonk down into the seat next to her.
“Fine,” I say chirpily. Jamming my hand into the pocket of my khaki trousers, I hunt about for the pill. At first, I can’t find the wretched thing, sweat pooling at the nape of my neck in panic. I scissor my fingers backward and forward, knowing it must be there somewhere. Then finally, with a sigh of relief, I locate the little round disc lodged right in the corner. I hook it out and unscrew the cap from my water bottle with my palm, I tip some water into my mouth, lifting the pill to my lips. At that moment, the coach jerks to a halt, and I’m flung forward in my seat.
The pill slips from my fingers tumbling towards the floor. I gasp in horror, swiping my hand to try to catch it. It falls right through my fingers, bouncing once, twice on the coach floor before rolling away.
I yelp, swinging into the gangway, but it’s too late. I’ve lost sight of the tiny thing under all the pairs of feet, rucksacks and seats.
Why do they make the things so small!!
I flop back against the seat, flinging my head against the cushion and repress a loud screech.
It seems fate is determined to keep me from taking these stupid pills.
“What?” Sia asks, now busy braiding her hair, an elastic caught between her teeth.
“I just lost my pill.”
“Your contraceptive pill?” Her eyebrows wiggle. “I thought this was a business-only trip. I strictly remember you saying when I listed all the guys coming on the trip, that you weren’t interested in hooking up with–”
“I know what I said,” I say through gritted teeth. “It was a suppressant pill, not contraception.”
“Oh,” Sia says. This stuff always makes her uncomfortable, no matter how hard she tries to hide it. It makes all betas uncomfortable. They get all squeamish at the mention of heats, and as for knotting … I once brought it up in a conversation with Sia, Zoe and Maya and all three of them looked like they might vomit. “Is it a problem?” Sia asks me.
No, it’s not going to be a problem. Because I won’t let it be. Confusing alphas. Missed alarm clocks. Lost suppressant pills. Nothing is going to stop me today.
Apart from the chief archeologist on this dig.
* * *
Professor Weaver spends 30 minutes in his tent arguing with him before he will even deem to see Jake and me. And then it’s with obvious reluctance and scepticism. As well as a healthy dose of sexism. The older man addresses all his questions at Jake, barely throwing a glance my way. Jake obviously isn’t feeling as generous today, because he’s quite happy to answer despite this being my idea.
After five minutes of this, my patience is wearing thin.
“And what gives you the impression that such a temple as this would possess another entrance?”
I bet Professor Weaver has already gone through these details with him but he wants to hear it from us. Jake opens his mouth to answer. This time I beat him to it.
“The temple at Rulox has a grand entrance on its eastern wall that would line up almost perfectly with an entrance on the west wall of this temple. I think it would’ve been an entrance reserved specifically for omegas.”
The older man sniffs. “Highly unlikely omegas would have been permitted entrance to such a temple,” he says.
Jake bristles beside me. I ignore them both.
“I’d have to disagree with you there. New theories suggest it was a much more egalitarian society – at least between the various designations – than what came after. Alphas respected omegas back then,” I say with a hard stare at the professor.
He’s one of those betas who fancies himself an alpha. He probably believes he should have been born one. I meet his stare. It’s easier with a beta. Going eyeball to eyeball with an alpha when you’re an omega is almost impossible. A skill that requires practice and determination. Luckily, I have an older brother who I’ve spent plenty of time glaring at over the years.
Eventually, the man snorts a little. “I’m not sure I agree with that new theory. Omegas have always been at the bottom rung of the social ladder, throughout history and across cultures.”
Beside me, Jake’s scent spikes, but I ignore him, about to tell this stuck up academic exactly what I think of that opinion. This time Jake beatsmeto it.
“Depends on whose perspective you are viewing things from. To alphas, omegas have always been prized above all else. They aren’t even on the ladder, they’re too far high above it!”
“Where on Earth did you read that idea?”
