Page 7 of The Omega Lesson

Jesus. Doesn’t she know half the class screws up just to have that stern brown gaze turned their way? I even saw Bryan Cantor beat one out under his desk when she was marking his pop quiz, her exasperated sighs better than porn whispered in his ear. Of course, I caught him after class and punched the shit out of him for jacking off to what’s mine. But on the other hand, I didn’t really blame him for acting like an animal. One quirk of her silky black brow and I’m ready to unload in my shorts.

“Okay, Miss Novak,” I say in my sweetest voice, conscious of the parents milling around behind me. “I’ll do it for you.”

It earns me an eyeroll, but I’m grinning as I jog back to my dorm. I don’t actually mind getting changed, since I need to grab a few things anyway. What I don’t enjoy is running into Darren fucking Fraser as he stands in the hallway, a shaking freshman working to knot his tie exactly as he likes it. It’s a ritual for Fraser. Every week one of the freshies has to follow him around, shining his shoes and bringing him cups of coffee five times a day. I’m pretty sure he grew up with a bunch of slaves doing all of his menial shit, because he acts like they’re not even there. Just an invisible pair of hands until they inevitably screw something up, and he kicks their arse all over the boarding house.

We both board in the Peppermint Dorm. For some reason, the school chose to name the eight boarding houses after native trees instead of the founding fathers. Not that I want to live in the Cliff House. Or the fucking Fraser House, for that matter. And it’s not like our ancestors need to put their names on the side of buildings to mark their legacy. No one in the state is ever going to let us forget who we are, or where we came from.

Except that I took a little detour, being born on the wrong side of the Cliff family sheets. My dad hooked up with my mum when she was over here for a photo shoot. She was a seventeen-year-old model, and he was well past fifty. Sparks flew at some big celebrity party, and according to my mum, they partied for a week at one of his eco-lodges up north. She left when his wife flew in, taking the twinkle in Carter Cliff’s eye with her. She mentioned him a few times over the years, but didn’t tell me he was my dad until I turned fifteen. By then, he’d already been dead for a while, so I didn’t see the point of reaching out. But I guess someone blabbed, because six months later she was in a fancy rehab in Sydney, while I was on a plane with my new half-brother, Benjamin Cliff.

Fraser glances at me as I stomp up the stairs to my room. “Your parentals here?”

I grunt, not slowing down, since I don’t exactly chat about my personal life. “Nope. My brother Ben might drop by instead.”

Am I boasting? I don’t know. I still get a kick out of claiming the Cliff name, even if it pisses me off at the same time. But Fraser looks impressed to hear my older brother will be on campus. He’s a big fish in these waters, and there’s not much that happens in this state without his sign-off. The premier has him on speed dial, and his face often pops up on the nightly news. It seems everyone wants to get up close with Ben Cliff.

Except for me, of course.

The truth is, we might share the same name and a few random genes, but the Lyalls are his real brothers. They grew up together in the north, their massive farm reaching all the way to the coastline where my family has its private beach. Everyone treats them like they’re a pack already, although the one time I asked Ben about it, he shut me down. Maybe they’re waiting for their omega, but exactly how picky are the arseholes? Every omega in the country is probably panting for them, and it’s not like they’re getting any younger.

Seems to me, some guys just take their good fortune for granted. But not me. The fact I’ve put my head on Lexi Novak’s pillow is a sheer miracle. I have no idea what I did to earn the honour, but I won’t be able to rest until the whole damn school gets the memo.

Lexi Novak is mine, and I’m hers.

I’m coming out of my room in a pair of old jeans and a wrinkled Henley when Fraser pounces. “You tapping that?”

I stop short, a familiar ache building in my molars as I stare at his grinning face. “What the fuck did you say?”

“Lexi. You came back to school with her, and you’re always sniffing around. Just checking if you need any advice on how to bag an alpha.”

Once upon a time, I’d put him in a coma for talking like that. Hit him hard enough that when he woke up –ifhe woke up – he’d whimper every time he so much as thought her name. But now I just give him a bored look. “What’s the going rate?”

He looks puzzled. “For my advice?”

“For getting you to fuck off. I had tinnitus as a kid, and your big mouth is giving me flashbacks.”

He just grunts, following me across the landing and sticking to my heels until we’re out of the boarding house. There are plenty of kids around, all heading off to meetings with their parents, and I’m suddenly aware I’m the only one who’s not in either my school uniform or a suit. But then I shrug. On her sober days, my mum used to tell me I was pretty enough to make a garbage bag look good.

Although Fraser’s clearly struggling to accept how hot sauce I really am.

“The only reason she’s fucking you is because you got held back a year.” He sneers at me, like it isn’t eating him up inside. “Either that, or because you’re a pussy-whipped beta.”

He probably expects me to take offence at that, but I just flip him off and start jogging back towards the English block. Does it suck when alphas throw their designation in my face? Shit, yeah. We’re all hard-wired to want to be the biggest, strongest dickhead in the playground. But when it comes down to it, I’m more than capable of holding my own. And who am I to question Mother Nature, anyway? If she wants me to be a beta, then I’ll be the best damn beta I can be.

Especially if it gets me another night on Lexi Novak’s pillow.

Lexi

The meetings go off without a hitch. I’m almost over-prepared, with a file full of work samples and a detailed page of notes for each student. Most of them are high achievers, so it’s easy to talk about their progress and to commend them on their hard work. The students lap up the praise, and for those who struggle academically, I’m able to put a spin on it so that every meeting ends with satisfied parents and grateful smiles from their sons.

“Ready to sing my praises too, Miss Novak?”

I grin as I turn to Mattie, who’s leaning in the doorway to my office, his hands hooked over the top of the frame. His Henley is hitched up on one side, giving a peak of smooth, brown muscle. A familiar flare of arousal curls through me, but I smack it down. The last thing I need is for Benjamin Cliff to find me making moon eyes at his baby brother.

But twenty minutes later, that’s looking increasingly unlikely. Matthew’s leaning against the edge of my desk, his body angled away from the classroom door as he stares disinterestedly at his shoes. We’re almost at the end of his brother’s allotted meeting time, and there’s still no sign of him. Robyn’s already popped in to say goodbye and the school is growing quiet around us.

“Maybe we should try calling him,” I suggest. I get that Benjamin Cliff is a busy man, but why even ask for the meeting if he didn’t plan on turning up? “He might just be running late.”

Mattie grunts but pulls his phone from his pocket. He hits the speed dial and I wince as it clicks straight to voicemail. “No biggie.” He shrugs, avoiding my eyes. “It’s not like I’m shocked he didn’t turn up.”

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