Page 16 of Want It All
Rosemary –Rose, they’d called her – gave us a perplexed look, so I shoved the last of my omelette into my mouth, feigning a calm I didn’t feel.
Thankfully, Tristan returned quickly with the coffees. Sebastian finished his waffles, then poached a spoonful of almond butter from my plate, grinning as he licked his spoon clean in a way that made my entire body go tight.
I stood before I could embarrass myself. ‘I’m out,’ I said shortly. Rose moved to stand; I shook my head. ‘Finish your breakfast, omega. See you in class.’
I strode away before she could respond, coffee in hand. She’d be safe with Sebastian and Tristan; they’d looked after her at the mixers, after all. I hurried up the main staircase, trying to put some distance between myself and the image of Sebastian’s tongue wrapping around his spoon or the way Rose’s skirt clung to her thighs.
The halls were bustling; everybody was gearing up for the first day of classes. Every person I saw had a coffee cup in hand; one harassed-looking alpha with silver hair was carrying an entire plunger, eyeing it like it was liquid gold. The morning sun streamed through the windows, and when I looked out, I could see the shifting light glinting off the sea.
I was born inland, and I’d always lived there. Seeing the ocean so often was a treat, and one I’d not yet grown used to.
Our classes were all on the third floor, in the First Year Library. Students’ first year at Banksia was devoted to general studies and research skills. We would spend the year together and would be treated as a single cohort. The First Year Library was one of the few rooms in the manor big enough for all of us.
It was cavernous, its floor space filled with study desks and chairs, the walls lined with full bookshelves stretching from the floor to the roof, which was two storeys high. Stained glass windows lined one wall, wide and arched, light streaming through them in a riot of colour. Instead of the usual religious imagery, the coloured glass depicted vivid scenes of the landscape around Banksia House: the sea, the cliffs, the bush, the beach, and native animals and birds. I spotted a plaque on the wall, naming a well-known First Nations artist as their creator.
There was an area for teaching beneath the massive windows, with a lectern and a projector screen before rows of chairs with tablet arms. I assumed this was where we’d have class – all the other desks were study pods, with partitions and retro desk lamps – so I headed across the library and chose a seat in the back corner, where I could see the entire room and where the light from the windows spilled over me in a wave of warmth.
I grabbed my laptop from my bag and found the class summary. According to it, today’s lesson was introductory and would cover mostly administrative stuff, so there was norequired reading. I’d read the first few chapters of the textbook yesterday anyway, because we’d be starting with a unit on prehistory, which was completely outside my wheelhouse. I’d never studied anything that wasn’t based on text before, and I didn’t want to fall behind.
I opened a browser tab and looked through the online classroom. Banksia had its own system, independent of SECU, and it seemed pretty good – definitely better than the one at my last university. All our resources were online – you could pay extra for a bound print-out, which I’d already done; I hated annotating on a screen – and there was a certain amount of interaction expected in online forums each week. This week was a simpleintroduce yourself– preferred name and pronouns, undergraduate degree, favourite book, that kind of thing – so I typed something out as I waited, giving the bare bones that everyone else here would have already known. I’d seen the looks and heard the whispers; the students here knew I was the Dean’s son, and they knew she got me my place here. They also knew, no doubt, that I was taking up the second scholarship place. No one had said anything to me – not yet, anyway. I suspected my size and monitors were the reasons why; not many people wanted to fuck with a six-foot-six wall of muscle, especially not one who might black out at any moment.
I looked up as footsteps echoed through the library; unfortunately, it was Glynn and Dean. They scowled at me as one – as though they were mobsters or something, and not just two unpleasant rich boys with unaccountably high grades. Glynn stepped towards me before a third set of footsteps sounded. A slender man with salt-and-pepper hair walked in, an expensive-looking laptop under one arm. He strode towards the lectern and began to set up; Glynn and Dean sank into seats at the front, as far away from me as they could possibly manage.
The man looked up, catching my eye. My instincts stirred;alpha, they told me, and I agreed, taking in his direct stare and the confident set of his shoulders. He studied me with a blank expression before frowning and going back to his laptop. The screen to his side ascended and descended in turn, until he was satisfied with its height.
More students filtered in. By now, most of the faces were familiar. A woman named Alessia chose a seat nearby, giving me a friendly nod as she pushed her dark hair back from her face. She seemed like a beta, though I couldn’t tell for sure. An alpha, Pravin, who’d done the same undergraduate degree as me, sat next to her; he shot me a smile as the seats began to fill. He’d told me that he’d known Tristan before Banksia; their grandmothers had been at university together in Mumbai before Tristan’s grandmother moved to the UK, and their families still kept in touch.
Sebastian all but bounced into the library with a sunny smile. Every alpha in the room straightened, watching as Tristan followed close behind him, Rose at his side. Her eyes were wide as she took in the library, her gaze darting to the books, then the windows, then to me sitting beneath them.
Rose’s entrance divided the other students’ attention. Did they ogle the breathtaking beta, or the pretty omega?
Choices, choices.
Rose must have noticed their stares, because she flushed and moved closer to Tristan, whose expression was one of bored disdain. He didn’t care about the students looking at his beta, or at the omega by his side, because they weren’t important enough to warrant his attention. Tristan had the air of someone who knew his worth – and no matter what, it was more than yours.
I should have hated his arrogant ass, but that unshakable self-assurance was kind of a turn on.
Rose skirted the chairs; my heart skipped a few beats as she headed straight towards me. She plonked her bag down on the floor with a muffled thump, then slid into the chair next to me. Sebastian folded to sit by her other side, and Tristan gracefully slouched next to him, kicking out his long legs and crossing them at the ankle.
Having Rose so close was as calming as it was distracting. My eyes darted sideways every time she moved, my instincts shouting at me to be of use.Find her food, make her comfortable, keep her safe. Keep her within sight, within reach. Fuck her, bite her, bond her.
Settle the fuck down, I told them – and myself – but my inner alpha had no intention of listening, too busy trying to push a comforting purr up my throat when Rose jiggled a foot nervously. I’d never purred foranyonebefore, and I sure as fuck wasn’t about to do it for the first time during class when any asshole might hear.
That shit would be for my pack, and my pack alone.
‘Good morning, first years,’ the alpha at the front said. His voice wasn’t loud, but everyone fell silent immediately. ‘I’m Professor Brandon Heathcote, and I’ll be taking you during the first semester.’
Heathcote started with an Acknowledgement of Country, then went on to tell us about his credentials, which were as long as my arm and impressive for someone so young. I glanced to the side, catching Sebastian with his mouth open and his eyes even wider, possibly a little star struck.
It was cute.
Heathcote gave us an overview of the course, then talked about the assessment. I relaxed when he spoke about the essays; I might not have known the subject matter, but I could write a solid argument in my sleep. The final exam made me a little nervous, but I figured I’d aim to do well enough in the essays andonline responses that I could scrape by with a pass in the exam if I needed to.
‘To begin,’ Heathcote said, flicking his presentation to the next slide. He looked down, shuffling some papers. ‘Alessia. What are the three key concepts which constitute the primary ways anthropologists understand human life?’
Alessia tensed. ‘I … I’m not sure.’
Heathcote looked down once more. ‘Sebastian,’ he went on, apparently ignoring Alessia’s response. ‘What is the four-field approach?’
