Chapter 7
BECKHAM
My muscles are stone tight and my nostrils flare.
The strong scent of pumpkin marshmallows hit my senses like a punch to the gut. Or should I say dick. I’m instantly hard, cock straightening against my sweat pants as both arousal and fear comes off me in waves.
“Beckham?” My father’s voice sounds from the other side of the line.
“I gotta go.” I manage to croak.
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine.” It’s not fine. It’s anything but fine. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”
With trembling fingers I hang up my phone as I push the door to my seedy motel room open further. Part of me is screaming danger, the other part of me has me wanting to barrel in there and find the source of the scent and rub myself all over it like a fucking cat in heat.
Highly aware of my surroundings, my eyes scan the small space.
At first glance, there appears to be nothing out of place, no one in sight, but I don’t let my guard down.
Slowly, I kick the door shut with my foot and reach for the hand gun I have hiding in the front pocket of my backpack near the door.
My father has always made sure that I could protect myself, even though the training has failed me on several occasions.
Flicking the safety off, I lift it, ready to shoot whoever could still be lingering.
I check the bathroom first, pulling back the shower curtain, only to find nothing. Then I head back out and check under the bed, behind the curtain. Nothing there either.
Only then do I let myself lower the gun.
But I don’t relax. I can’t fucking relax.
Because I know exactly who was in here. Okay, not exactly, it could have been Tatum or Alaric.
I didn’t stick around long enough to decipher whose scent was whose, only the fact that I know there were three distinct scents, all my scent matches.
The only one I can pinpoint for sure is Jamie’s but there’s no hint of his bergamot and sandalwood scent.
So it has to be one of the other two.
Fuck. They found me. Of course they fucking found me.
I knew it wouldn’t be long until they came looking for me.
Only a dumbass would know nothing can get in between scent matched alphas and their omega.
There was a foolish part of me that hoped they wouldn’t waste their time with me. That by me taking off and ignoring them, they would see that I didn’t want them as my alphas and leave me alone.
Like I said, foolish. I’m a fucking dumbass. Because of course they want me. I’m their omega. Their fucking omega.
How is this my life?
All I’ve ever wanted was to just have a nice peaceful life and to teach. That's it.
I didn’t want alphas. I didn't need them. I don’t trust alphas as far as I can fucking throw them.
Guess I don’t really get a say in my life. Between being in the mafia because of who my father is, and the universe giving me another big fuck you on top of all the bullshit I’ve had to deal with by giving me not one, not two, but three fucking alphas, I’m doomed to suffer.
I shouldn’t have come back here. I should have just found another town to start over in.
Coming back has only caused more issues than solving any. I’m no closer to finding out who was dealing the dirty drugs, the whole fucking reason I came back here.
I’ve deluded myself into thinking that because students stopped dying, that the issue solved itself. It didn’t. I’m just a fucking coward who can’t stand being in the same room as his abuser, even if it means potentially saving lives in the future, or getting justice for the ones already lost.
This has to be karma for turning my back on what I came here to do.
I was selfish, and now I’m paying.
In the form of three men. Who are not only ten years younger than me, and my students, but also the sons of other mafia families.
If my father knew who I was scent matched to, he’d be over the fucking moon. To him, it would be a guarantee of me being a part of the world he spent most of my life setting me up to take over.
Only, I have no idea how that would work. Would he want me to still be a part of the family business? Would this be a conflict of interest with them technically being our rivals?
Not that it matters, because this means nothing. They mean nothing to me. I’m not going to be their omega. They are not my alphas. Damn what my body, heart, and fucking soul feel.
And my cock. My fucking cock.
“Backstabbing asshole,” I hiss down at my dick that is straining to escape.
The scent is everywhere. It’s not just a person passing by and their scent lingering. No, this is potent, like the person is right here in the room with me.
Only, they’re not. No one but me is in this room.
Tatum, or Alaric are gone, but for how long? They know where I’m staying, they probably saw I wasn’t here and plan to come back.
When? How long do I have to get my shit together and find another place to stay?
Would there even be a point? I wouldn’t put it past them that now they know where I’m staying, they will have eyes on me at all times.
They are not the kind of men to give up, that much I’ve come to know.
If I’m what they want, they won’t stop until they get me.
The idea both thrills and terrifies me. Everything inside me is screaming to go to them. To let them take care of me, be there for me, love me.
And the other part is telling me to run far and fast. Because at the end of the day, alphas think with their dicks, not their minds. They don’t take no for an answer, not when they’re being overrun by their instincts.
I can’t put myself in that situation. I can’t allow these guys to control me, or have any power over me. I can’t. I won’t.
But how the fuck do I continue going on? How do I go to work knowing they’re in my class? How do I see them every day and not break down because of how much my body is telling me I need them.
I’ve been a fucking mess since I left the classroom. As soon as I got into my car, I found the nearest motel and got a room, went to the liquor store across the street, bought way too many bottles of whiskey and have been locked up in this tiny dingy room, drinking myself into a coma to forget.
And it’s worked for the most part. I can't think about them when I’m sleeping. The dreamless nights have been the only peace I’ve managed to get.
When I’m awake, my heart hurts. My body aches. I’ve never hated being an omega so much in my life as I do right now.
Because of that, I’m filled with so much shame it makes me sick. I’ve always prided myself on being an omega. Even when my designation worked against me when I first presented.
I’ve worked hard to be in control of my own life, my own mind and my own body.
Now I feel like all my control has been ripped away and I don’t know what to do with myself.
A part of me feels like maybe it would be better to end it all, but that would be the coward's way out.
I don’t want to die. Before last week, I loved my life.
Okay, love would be pushing it. I avoided home, slept mostly at my desk or in my office, and I haven’t had a good night's sleep in months.
What I need is to get out of this town and start over. Away from my past, and away from them.
Even as I think about it, I know it would be pointless. They would find me. And while I have money at my disposal, my father would never allow me to use it to disappear and start over. I’d have to use my own money and I don’t have enough to be able to do that.
Falling back onto the bed, I groan. Part in frustration, but also because this fucking bed reeks of pumpkin marshmallow.
Rolling over, I bury my face in the blanket and inhale deeply. A whimper slips free and my hips flex, grinding against the bed.
“What is wrong with me!” I get to my feet and start to pace.
I feel like I’m going out of my mind. Taking my glasses off, I toss them on the table and scrub at my face.
I’m tired, could use a good shower and a change of clothes.
I’ve already gone through everything I had in the backpack that I kept in my car for the nights I never made it home to shower and change.
I can’t keep doing this. I can’t live like this. I’m going to have to confront them at some point. Maybe I can convince them I'm not right for them.
I snort out a laugh. “Alright, Beckham. Like that's going to work.”
Scent matching overrides pretty much everything in life. You’d have to despise your scent match to even remotely want to reject them.
And while in a way, I rejected the guys by running away, it was nowhere near an actual rejection.
Just thinking about telling them I want them to leave me alone for good has bile rising.
Because in reality, I want them so fucking badly it hurts.
I want to hate them, and hate that I want them. Life isn’t fair, it never is.
Needing to try and take my mind off things, I start to gather my belongings.
My father’s party is tomorrow and I promised I’d be there. I’ve already disappointed him enough, I can’t do it again by missing something so important to him.
That means, I can’t keep running and hiding.
It’s time I face my life and do something about it, rather than avoiding or trying to drink my problems away.
As I bend over to grab a pair of my boxers laying on the ground, pumpkin and marshmallow slam into me.
Snatching the boxers off the ground, I stare at them with wide eyes. A white, wet sticky substance coats the fabric. And the smell of it has my mouth watering.
I blink at them in disbelief. Did he… did he really jerk off into my boxers while he was here?
Arousal prickles up my spine, my balls growing heavy as my cock twitches.
I’m sick and fucked up because I’m turned on. So fucking turned on.
Closing my eyes, I bring the fabric to my nose and inhale deeply.
Fucking hell, Beckham, you need help.
Still, I moan as a full body shiver wracks me. Lifting my heavy lids open, something inside me takes over. I shift from a weak omega to a feral one.