Page 4 of The Omega Lesson

It’s a perfect slice of tanned skin between his moulded jaw and water-beaded throat. A vein throbs, like he can feel the heat of my gaze, and my mouth actually goes dry. Like I’ll dehydrate on the spot if I don’t taste that blend of chlorine, fresh sweat, and the minty fragrance I can’t get out of my head…

Get a grip, Lexi!

“Your parents booked an interview for tonight,” I blurt out, my brain struggling to catch up with my mouth.

“It’s not my parents,” he mutters, his intense hazel gaze finally sliding away from mine. It’s a relief, frankly, even while it feels like the sun has just slipped behind a cloud. “It’ll probably be Ben. He’s picking someone up from the airport, so he might swing by if he has time.”

I frown, concerned Matthew rates himself so low on his family’s list of priorities. “Well, I’m looking forward to meeting him,” I fib. “But it would really help if I knew what you’ve told him. I need to be prepared, Mattie.”

The pet name just slips out, but his eyes flare and his voice drops three octaves. “You mean, does he know about us?”

Oh, shit. Why does that sound so good and so terrifying at the same time?

I shuffle my feet, another dose of perspiration making my shirt stick to my spine. I should tell him there is no us. That the only reason we’re having this conversation is because I suffered a moment of weakness. I should make it very clear it was a mistake, and that I’m only here to make sure my career doesn’t blow up in my face.

But as he tilts his head, one eye half-closed against the glare off the water, I know it’s bullshit. Whatever sliver of self-preservation I have is floundering at the bottom of the pool. But I still force myself to ask, “Did you tell anyone about the other night?”

Instead of looking insulted, his face softens, his eyes turning shy. “Who’d believe me? I can barely convincemyselfit really happened.”

And that is exactly why Matthew Cliff is keeping me up at night.

He’s one of the few senior boys who’s still a beta. Since most designations appear with puberty, it’s common for students to start at Prendiville before they present as alphas. But by year ten or eleven, their dominant natures start to show, their scent sharpening and their authority kicking in. Coming from a strong alpha family, everyone no doubt presumed Matthew would present while he was at the academy.

But he’s nineteen now, a full year older than the other kids in his class. And this can be a brutal place for a beta. There’s nothing lower than an alpha who doesn’t present, forcing most betas to switch schools for their final year. But as I’ve watched him over the last six months, it’s clear Matthew’s come to accept his designation. He’s a beta in an alpha body.

It shouldn’t make a difference. He’s just as smart and capable as the next student. And the way he just dominated against the best swimmers in the school proves he has impressive physical talents. But when it comes down to it, this academy was built to hone the next generation of alphas. And while any late-presenting omegas are quietly hustled off campus, there’s no rule that says betas have to leave. They just choose to go.

But not Mattie. He turns up to every class, mucks in for every sports event, and does it all with a carefree smile on his face. He’s a square peg in a round hole, and he doesn’t give a shit.

But that doesn’t mean the last six months of his education won’t be rife with painful lessons. In the boardrooms and ballrooms of our world, betas are second-class citizens,especiallyif they were expected to present. And not even Matthew’s famous family name will protect him from that.

“I think we should talk about that, Matthew…”

The words are barely out of my mouth when the sports master’s whistle pierces the air. Matthew twists at the waist, his back rippling with tension, and his coach narrows his eyes at whatever he sees on his face. “You want to hear your time or not, Cliff?” he calls in a clipped voice. “And I’m sure Miss Novak has somewhere else to be.”

Great. Now everyone within a half-mile radius is staring at us. I flap a hand at the swimming coach, who’s never givenmethe time of day, then murmur to Matthew, “You should go.”

“Nah.” He turns back and flashes his white teeth at me. “Just give me a sec to grab my gear and I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t need to…”

But he’s already jogging towards his coach. I try not to stare, especially because the students who were gambling on the race are watching. They hoot and slap at him as he races by, but he easily dodges them. Deprived of their fun, they look back my way and I arch a brow at the tallest one. Darren Fraser. He’s in Matthew’s class, and from what I’ve heard, they’ve always been rivals. Darren comes from another elite family, although, according to Robyn, there are lots of rumours about how they make their money. Something to do with dodgy real estate deals and mob connections. I couldn’t care less, but I don’t like the way he’s leering at me. “Alright, Miss?” he calls as I give him my frostiest look. “Who’d think to bet on a beta, hey? Other than you, I mean.”

My mouth goes dry at the obvious innuendo, but I keep my frown in place. “Gambling is against the school charter, Mr. Fraser. You should be more careful.”

He just gives me a lazy shrug, his gaze crawling over me in a deliberate taunt. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that, Miss?”

Cursing the blush that now stains my cheeks, I turn before he can say anything more and hurry away from the pool. The path takes me between the music block and the carpark, and then I’m on the gravel road that leads across The Wet. It’s acres of overgrown playing fields and swampland, and not the safest route home on the tail end of a long, hot summer. But I’m so keyed up, I’d probably welcome running into a pissed-off tiger snake right now.

It doesn’t take long before I hear the crunch of footsteps behind me and Matthew jogs up to my side. He’s wearing a thin sports singlet and navy shorts, his feet jammed into sneakers without socks. I suppose I should be glad he stopped long enough to pull on some clothes before he chased me across campus…

Yeah, because his itty-bitty Speedos aren’t the best uniform invention ever.

“Sorry,” he grunts as he falls into step beside me. “Coach wouldn’t stop yakking in my ear.”

“He gave you the spot on the team?”

He snorts. “And drop one of his alpha superstars?” He shakes his head, the damp strands brushing his cheeks. I try not to stare, but he’s got the type of skin that has a permanent honey tan. I go pink and peel in summer, but Matthew is the epitome of sun-kissed. “I just did it to prove I can, I guess. Fraser wouldn’t shut his mouth, and I stupidly took the bait.” He looks a bit rueful. “The arsehole really knows how to push my buttons.”

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