“You love me.” Carmen kisses Amora’s cheek. “Faye, are you and the Stella girls still coming to our party later? I keep telling Amora that it’ll be good for her to have more omegas around after what happened with the girls in Persephone House last year.”
Amora shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. Something bad must have happened in her first year, but it’s obviously something she’s uncomfortable talking about.
“We’ll be there.” I nod. With everything else going on, I’m ashamed to admit I completely forgot about Amora’s bonding anniversary party. But I have nothing else planned, and seeing Amora’s hopeful smile cinches the deal. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“See?” Carmen squeezes Amora’s arm. “It’ll be fun! You’ll see, mi amor.”
Amora’s lips quirk at the corners, still a little hesitant, as Carmen kisses her, almost melting into her. They look so content in each other’s company. Whatever happened to Amora last year, I’m glad she had someone like Carmen to help her through it.
“I’m sorry I can’t extend the invite, Ren,” Carmen tells him. “But it’s strictly bonded alphas only. Don’t worry, though. I hired extra security, so your omega will be safe.” She nods at our interlocked fingers. “From the looks of it, you’ll be attending our next party, though.”
Ren’s eyes light up. “I hope so.”
“You two are the cutest.” Carmen declares while checking her watch. “Your class is almost starting. See you later, mi amor.”
Amora turns to me as Carmen skips off. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I answer grimly, feeling like a soldier heading into battle.
“Did you finish the essay on ginger root?”
“Just about.” I grimace. “It took forever.”
The three of us enter the greenhouse, proceeding down the path to our classroom where Ren stops to part ways. He kisses my cheek in farewell. “I’ll meet you after class.”
I feign a smile, dread bubbling in my stomach as me and Amora make our way to our work station. Professor Grub is already waiting, which is rare as he has a habit of waltzing in late. His expression is thunderous as he scowls and squints around the room, turning my knees to jelly.
“Today you will be working on diminitae oil.” He points at the blackboard, launching straight into class before everyone has even got out their notebooks. “What are its uses?”
A hand shoots up in the front row. “It can reduce an omega or alpha’s scenting ability.”
Amora and I exchange a look. This mixture is not exactly something we’d expect to see on the syllabus, especially given how dangerous it could be to us.
“And why would they use it?” Grub prompts.
“To make them less scent sensitive in large social situations,” the student replies.
“And to stop them from wanting to fuck all the time,” a male beta, who gives me seriously bad vibes, snickers.
“Before we proceed.” Professor Grub whips around in my direction and barks, “Nightingale, do you have your essay on ginger root?”
“Y-yes.” I fish it out of my backpack. “Here it is.”
He snatches the paper, scans it, then begins reading segments for the entire class. “Grows best in warmer and tropical climates, found natively in… No, no, no! You have to be more specific!” My mouth goes dry as he picks more sentences to pull apart, reading those aloud too. The paper took me ages, and it’s thoroughly researched, but he finds holes in most things I’ve written and twists my words. “Some people use ginger to assistwith motion sickness. Not just motion sickness, but all kinds of gastrointestinal issues! Did you even try, Miss Nightingale?”
I dig my nails into the palms of my hands, wishing I could point out that I listed many other conditions alongside motion sickness.
“She was probably too busy fucking some alpha,” the beta who gives me bad vibes sneers.
Finally, when Professor Grub reaches the end, he tears my essay—literally ripping it into tiny pieces before throwing them into the air.
“May this be a lesson to everyone,” Professor Grub announces. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to stay in my class.”
“But—” Amora begins. She rarely speaks up in class and is so soft-spoken that no one else hears her.
“It’s okay,” I whisper before Grub turns his attention to her. “Don’t worry about it.” I don’t want her becoming his next target.
Professor Grub clicks his fingers then points at the shreds of paper at his feet. “Clean up the paper and put it in the compost, Nightingale. Let’s see if you can do that correctly.” He rolls his eyes melodramatically then for the benefit of the misogynist asshole beta adds, “It’s times like this when I question why omegas are allowed to attend college.”
