Hunter #3
Reaching over, Soren twirls my hair between his fingers again. Since dying it blue, he’d become obsessed with it like some sort of magpie. “I’d be happy to help out, babe. You know I have an impressive toy collection.”
I snort, knowing exactly what toys he owned. At this rate, he might as well own shares in the Velvet Knot since he apparently had half their stock in a pretty purple box under his bed.
“But it’s not the same.” Callie whines, lifting our hands and kissing our joined fingers before rubbing my skin against her cheek.
It was something she did for comfort sometimes when her heat was approaching, and I was only too happy to release some of my pheromones to help soothe her discomfort. “Ha! Knot the same.”
“What about Arlo?” Tiggy says thoughtfully, offering up the quiet alpha as a heat sacrifice.
He shrugs, blushing as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “Sorry, I have plans with Bell this weekend.”
I don’t need to look to know that Evans’ is still staring our way. I can feel his gaze on me like pinpricks across my skin. Was it because Arlo mentioned Bell? I know Evans’ seemed interested in them before winter break, but as per usual, it never went anywhere.
Sadie no doubt played a hand in that somehow. Cockblocking, crazy sea urchin that she was.
Sighing dramatically, Callie lets go of my hand and picks her phone up off the table. “Looks like I’ll have to find someone on CycleSync.”
Soren groans, finally letting go of my hair. “I swear, half the campus is on that app.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I reply, tilting my head at him.
Surely finding someone to help with a rut or heat was a good idea?
Glancing behind him, my eyes lock with Evans’ and this time he doesn't look away.
No, instead he looks like he wants to come over here and say something.
I wait. Listening to the blood rushing around my body and my heart thumping steadily for a few moments.
When he stays exactly where he is, I force myself to focus back on my friends.
“No, but can you imagine matching with one of the professors or something?” He shudders, “Maybe the janitor or perhaps that secretary who sits in the humanities office with a face like she’s smelled sour cream?”
I wince, remembering the last time I’d run into her. I’d been on the edge of my rut, pheromones practically pouring from me and her usual sour face had twisted into something more predatory. Hungry.
As a dominant alpha, I knew the effect I had on weak omegas, but it still made me wary.
Luckily there was a sheet of glass between us and I left before I flooded the room completely with my scent.
For a brief moment, I wonder if I could actually melt her brain with pheromones alone?
Shaking my head, I swallow down a snigger, clearly I’d been watching too many sci-fi movies recently.
“Love, when I’m that deep in my heat, I don’t really care as long as it’s safe and consensual.” Callie chuckles, swiping through profiles with an appreciative hum as her other hand finds its way back to my thigh. “Besides, Professor Stafford is yummy. I’d match with that man all heat long.”
We all hum in agreement thinking about the Art History professor, and Tilly laughs loudly, drawing the attention of some of the people sitting near us. I mean, I may be an alpha, but my tastes weren’t limited to omegas. Pleasure was pleasure, and a warm willing body was a warm willing body.
“True…” Soren sighs in agreement, stretching partially across the table to groan loudly, face pressed against the wood. “Urgh. That man could fold me like a pretzel any day of the week. I don’t do all that yoga for nothing.”
A cough behind us draws our attention, heads swiveling towards the pointed noise before a deep, stern voice says, “While I think that’s supposed to be a compliment, Mr. Andersen, perhaps you should be more aware of your surroundings in future?”
Professor Stafford, the gentleman in question, closes his book and gets to his feet with a wry smile.
He’s younger than some of our other tutors, late thirties, early forties if I had to make a guess but it wouldn’t surprise me if he was older.
He had a smooth face, the only sign of age showing in the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled and the salt and pepper in his hair.
“Ah, apologies, sir.” Soren sits upright, cheeks pink, eyes wide. “I mean, I stand by what I said. But it was never meant for you to hear.”
“Mr. Andersen…” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses before giving Soren a hard look. “Do we need to have a conversation about respect and boundaries?”
Shaking his head, the corner of Soren’s mouth twitches. The cheeky omega is trying not to grin. “No, sir.”
Professor Stafford nods, “Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to teach.”
We all watch wordlessly as he weaves between the tables, past the football team and out of the coffee shop.
Soren looks up at the ceiling, with a long exhale. “I think I might have just cum in my pants.”