CHAPTER FIVE
HARPER
NEW FRIEND
Sawyer’s not playing fair.
The way he cornered me, so close I could feel the heat rolling off his body, left me shaken in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Desire coils low in my belly, slick pooling between my thighs. Thank goodness I’m wearing jeans. If I’d worn a skirt, there would’ve been no hiding it.
How can I come down from being turned on when he’s sitting beside me in class, wearing that smug grin that tells me he knows exactly what he did.
My eyes betray me, sliding over his muscled arms beneath a gray Greywood University sweatshirt.
Focus, Harper.
I haven’t forgiven Sawyer, not really, but the way he stalks me, the way he refuses to keep his distance, tells me he can’t let me go either.
And damn it… he caught my scent.
That day was total chaos. I’m happy he didn’t approach me while I tried to control my scent.
Gosh, he just rubbed his scent on my skin again and it’s wafting up my nose. I’d love to take his sweatshirt to my dorm room so I can sleep with it.
Musk, vanilla, and caramel bring me comfort.
Can’t believe he knows I’m awakened. Sawyer doesn’t need to know about the scent suppressants. I don’t owe Sawyer an explanation about my life. His friend wanted me gone. Now that I’m back, Dustin reminds me how much he hates me.
My first heat will be overwhelming. I know that. And Sawyer’s scent would calm it.
I hate that he’s right. I’ve known for a long time.
He’s a scent match.
Too bad it doesn’t matter.
He needs to move on. There’s no way I can be with any of them.
Resting my cheek in my palm, I force myself to look at the whiteboard. Sawyer gently pulls my hand away and presses his lips to my knuckles.
My heart stutters.
Gosh, he has to stop. What if he triggers my heat early?
“What’s on your mind, little omega?” he murmurs, his deep voice sinking straight into my core.
“Our lesson,” I say quickly, pulling my hand back.
I feel his gaze on me and others too.
Before he can say anything else, I shove my books into my backpack and slip out of class early, humming under my breath to keep him from commanding me to stay.
I don’t stop until I reach the dining hall.
I need space. I need air. I need anything that isn’t an alpha with too much power over my body.
Also I’d like to get to know other students. My best friends’ Kanieshie and Candice from high school attend out of state colleges. We still chat often. They love their schools. I’m happy for them. Hopefully, I can fall in love with Greywood University like I planned originally.
I manage a well-known anonymous blog where I share campus gossip gathered from my trusted sources.
These sources, who always sign NDAs, provide some of the stories I post. Keeping my identity hidden as the blog’s author is crucial, and I’m equally committed to safeguarding the anonymity of my sources.
People can get pretty vindictive if they find out their secrets were shared.
I had covered gossip at Kanieshie’s college in North Carolina. And a college in Dallas, Texas too. Today, I’ll meet with a new source.
Track season won’t begin until spring. For now, I’m training, which gives me some extra time, enough to distract me from the alphas and the heat that’s coming.
I grab a tray and wander past the food stations that draw my eye, finally choosing pizza and veggies.
“You’re her,” a woman says from behind.
I glance back as I step up to the cashier. “Sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”
After swiping my student card, I search the dining hall for an open table.
Ignoring the woman’s words, I move on. Sitting down, I breathe in the scent of pepperoni and melted cheese. The mozzarella fills my nose, and I can’t help but smile. Pizza has been a favorite since childhood, along with broccoli.
My eyes pop open and I find the woman sitting across from me, her smile warm and inviting. The glow from the grand light fixtures in the gourmet dining hall highlights her rich mocha complexion.
“Now you’re following me,” I say.
“Relax Harper.” She leans in. “It’s Chavelle Braxton.”
“You don’t look like Chavelle. She has short hair, a mole over her lip, and wears big glasses.”
“That was my disguise. People can’t know what I do around here,” she adds.
I smile. “I agree. Anonymity is important.”
We grin at each other.
I stab a broccoli floret and push it past my lips. She digs into her cobb salad.
“What did you mean when you said 'your her'?” I ask.
“As soon as I realized you were coming, I looked you up. You're the cause of the melancholy in the Barclay pack.”
I shake my head. “Not exactly. I was set up in high school, and I lost my would-be pack. You know what?”
Her eyebrows shoot up.
“It’s for the best. I’m leaving myself open for a new alpha. Singular.” I hold my head up high.
“I don’t want a pack anymore.”
“Hmm, you’re an omega and not many alphas are looking your way,” Chavelle adds.
I wonder why that is. They always looked at me at my old school.
Then I catch Sawyers scent on my face again.
“Sawyer purposely marked me so other alphas will stay away.”
“Sounds like someone doesn’t want to share,” she giggles.
Chavelle peeks around the dining hall. “Meet me near the large tree not far from the big rock at ten p.m.”
“There has to be lots of large trees across campus,” I say.
“Trust me. You can’t miss it. It’s so nice to meet you in person.”
“Why are you leaving?” I ask.
“You’ll-” her words are cut off.
“I see Harper’s making friends,” Thatcher says.
“Goodbye, Chavelle,” he states.
“Bye alpha,” Chavelle scurries off.
“What the fuck are you doing, Thatcher?” I bite out.
He drags a chair close, sinks into it, as he grabs a broccoli floret off my tray and pops it into his mouth.
“I’m sorry to hear that your grandmother is sick. I hope her health improves.”
“Thank you.”
"Why didn't you just take a semester off? Come back when things settled down?"
Thatcher's question is casual, but his appearance is anything but. Gray blazer, blue-gray v-neck over a powder blue dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to seem effortless, blue slacks, brown leather shoes. He looks like he's headed to close a business deal, not sit through Pack Dynamics.
My jaw tightens, and I feel my nostrils flare despite my best efforts to stay composed. Then his scent hits me, sandalwood and clean linen, the kind that makes me want to bury my face in his neck and breathe deep.
I blink, steadying myself. “I’m here for my grandmother as long as she needs me. I deserve to attend the school I planned to attend since freshman year of high school. Not my fault Dustin can’t stand to see my face anymore.”
“He plans to look for a mate,” Thatcher remarks.
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?
I creep forward, concealing myself behind a smaller tree.
“What are you doing?” a voice whispers behind me.
“Trying to see what’s going on.”
“It’s initiation week. The legacies assign strange tasks to the new recruits.”
Two figures face each other, their wolf masks, complete with elongated snouts, clearly visible.
“What the hell?” I whisper.
Peeking between two small hills, my eyes widen. A group of guys clad in dark hoodies and cargo pants carry a pot of hot water overhead, walking barefoot across burning coals.
“This is terrible. Isn’t this some kind of hazing?” I ask.
“The legacies do whatever they want. They run this school. And the whole town of Greywood.”
My stomach twists. “No, no way.”
My mind flashes back to my talk with Dustin.
“You don’t own the town of Greywood,” I say sharply.
“My pack leader’s father does,” he scoffs.
My would-be pack are Wolves’ legacies. Bile rises in my throat. I realize I don’t truly know them at all.
I seize Chavelle’s hand and dash back to the large tree.
Fingering my coils, I lock eyes with her. “Is this why you wanted to meet here?”
“Yes. I wanted you to see what your pack really is.”
“They’re not my pack.”
She arches a brow. “Then why did Thatcher react the way he did earlier marking you?”
“He acted like a total jerk. He’s my enemy,” I bite out.
“I belong here at Greywood too. Screw the Barclay pack. It’s time I put out the word I’m looking for a mate. I’ll only seek betas, not alphas. I mean, he did tell all the alphas I’m off limits.”
Chavelle chuckles. “Yeah, he sure did.”
“I’ll report on this. Do you have anything else for me?” I ask.
She sighs. “What I’m about to tell you is top secret.
My father, John Braxton, is the Greywood chief of police.
I intern at the Greywood police department and work in the crime lab.
One weekend, I was at home when I saw my dad rush out the house.
I chased after him and asked where he was going.
He said another girl had been found dead.
So naturally, I jumped into the truck and went with him. ”
Chavelle quickly looks over her shoulder before turning back to face me. “Girls from our school are being murdered.”
I gasp, “What?”
She nods. “And the crime scene had a crucial clue linking it to the Wolves secret society.”