The words land like a blade between my ribs, but I keep my expression smooth. "Good for him. I'm looking for one too."
A low chuckle vibrates from his chest. The football jock clasps my hips, pulling me onto his lap.
I press my palms hard against his chest. “Let me go, Thatcher.”
His eyes, piercing blue, darken as he catches my wrists. He guides my fingers into his short blond hair, and its unexpectedly soft.
“Tell me something, little omega." His voice drops lower, almost contemplative. "How many alphas do you think will approach you now?"
His face is the kind of beautiful that's almost painful to look at, all sharp angles and perfect symmetry, like someone carved him from marble.
I feel his dick swell against my pussy. Fuck, more slick flows. Thank god he can’t detect my scent—or I’d be done for.
He buries his face in my neck. “You smell like Sawyer. And now you smell like me.”
Thatcher’s low purr vibrates through me, oddly soothing. My arms wind around him without thinking. I’m caught, and he knows it.
A soft whimper slips past my lips.
Get a grip, Harper.
I shove against his broad chest, trying to rise.
“This little omega is off limits,” Thatcher declares firmly.
He guides me back into the chair and stands, the outline in his pants unmistakable. A sly grin spreads across my face.
“There are plenty of hardworking alphas around. I’m sure one’s searching for an omega.”
He leans in close, grabs my chin, and growls low. Teeth sink into my lower lip.
“Ow,” I gasp.
He pulls back, locking his intense blue eyes with mine. “Talk to any alpha in town and I’ll destroy them. They won’t dare look your way again.” His sharp white teeth flash through the blood trickling down.
Without a word, Thatcher strides toward the dining hall exit. A woman falls in step beside him; his arm slides possessively around her neck as they leave together.
“Fucking asshole,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
***
I step into my dorm room and switch on the light. My beta roommate isn’t around. I caught a glimpse of her this morning as she jogged past, heading out for her run. She didn’t seem thrilled about sharing the room, probably because she’d had it to herself for the first half of the semester.
I toss my backpack onto the desk, slip off my sneakers, and collapse onto my bed. I nestle into the pillow, thinking maybe I have time for a quick nap before diving into my studies. Bringing my nose closer to the pillow, I freeze. Is that? No, it can’t be. I sit up and lift my pillow.
“What the hell?” I murmur, pulling out Sawyer’s sweatshirt and Thatcher’s soft sweater. Holding them close, I breathe in their scents, musk, vanilla, caramel, sandalwood, cedar, and fresh laundry. Wrapping the blankets around me, I clutch their clothes tight, my head sinking back onto the pillow as my eyelids slowly drift closed.
***
Clad entirely in black, I trudge across the campus, my hands buried deep in my hoodie pocket. Each breath exhales smoke into the chilly night air. Damn, it’s freezing tonight. A shiver races up my spine as I survey my surroundings.
Ahead, a massive rock looms, more boulder than stone. To my left stands a towering tree. That has to be the meeting spot.
Voices reach my ears as I near the tree.
“Recruits, if this is your destiny,” a man shouts, draped in a crimson hooded robe, his hands raised toward the pitch-black, starless sky. “Prove how badly you want to join the number one secret society, the Wolves.” Others in hooded robes flank him.
A groan cuts through the air. I clutch the rough bark of the tree and stretch my neck, desperate to pinpoint who’s in trouble. I need to know what’s happening. My heart pounds fiercely as I edge closer, realizing their gaze is fixed downward. Who’s down there?
