Chapter 2
REED
Esper
what classes do you have today? I’m stuck in English
I’ve matched with a few people on the Heat Seekers app, but I haven’t had one who made talking so… easy. Esper always attached those little emojis to her texts, which I thought I'd find annoying but I don’t.
Reed
Stats. hate this damn class. College is good for wasting people’s time.
Wasting my time, specifically. If Dad didn’t insist on me going to college I would not be here. I’d be at the Bar, helping him run the Midnight Wolves and strategizing to protect our territory.
But no. I’m here in statistics class trying to beat boredom with my friend Casey.
Casey is nearly my perfect opposite. Maybe that’s why we get along so well.
While I scowl at every person here, Casey is sociable and smiley.
His golden hair and skin paired with his sunny personality draws people in like a magnet, while my jet black tattoos and permanent glare push people away, like… an opposite magnet.
When we’re together, people don't know which way’s up. Poor saps.
He’s an omega on the Sociology track and what that means I’m not entirely sure, even though he’s explained it to me a million times. Casey’s my only friend outside the motorcycle club and the sole reason college isn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.
Why I need a college degree to replace Dad as president of the Wolves, I haven’t a damn clue.
But I love the Wolves. They may not be mine by blood, but the day Dad brought me home, they became family.
I had nothing for so long, and then—voila!
—I had everything I could ever ask for. Food, a place to sleep, people who cared.
Midnight Wolves aren’t just a motorcycle club. I want to continue our mission protecting our streets and accepting the strays of our communities.
“Are you paying attention?” Casey shoves my shoulder and I keep myself from laughing, knowing he knows my answer is absolutely not.
The professor rambles on and on as my mind lingers on the sweet omega who matched with me.
I didn't think I'd be her type, but then again, I don’t think I'm anyone's type.
After all, who wants a surly, dominant omega?
Casey’s the only other male omega I’ve met who is as dominant as I am. Maybe even more so. Makes sense, though. We’ve both been hardened to life more than other omegas. He grew up with a struggling single mom; I was abandoned in a park by my drug addict birth parents, then grew up with the Wolves.
Where we’re different though, is that the man is a hopeless romantic. He dreams of a career and a Pack.
Having a Pack would ruin my life. An alpha in my Pack would automatically get the lead position and swipe everything I’d worked for right from under my feet.
That’s why I stick to one-night stands.
Esper
oooo that’s ruff. I’d take english over stats any day.
“What’s got you smiling like that?”
I scoff but turn to my best friend.
“Nothin’.”
“Don't be shy, let me see.” Casey grabs my phone before I can put it away, and I actually blush at him reading my texts with Esper. What the hell. I shake my head and snatch my phone back.
“A girl? Wow, never thought I’d see the day one stomachs talking to you,” he jokes. “She’s an omega too, how cute.”
That comment earns him a growl from me, and I slide my phone in my bag and refocus on the professor at the front of the room. I’d rather listen to the lecture than let Casey catch wind of how much this girl I met literally last night might mean to me.
How does one stop from blushing ever again?
“Yes… a girl,” I confirm staring at the blank paper in front of me that should be covered in numbers and equations.
“How long?”
“Since last night.”
“You talked that much in one night? Damn.”
“Let’s focus on the math,” I say, knowing Casey takes his schooling way more seriously than I do. The dude is seriously motivated.
“We will, after you tell me about this Esper.”
“I hardly know her.” I keep from looking at Casey. I even refrain from yanking my phone from his hands.
“When are you gonna meet?”
“‘What is the probability of getting a Red Queen card in a deck of cards?’” I read the math question aloud, which does nothing to bring Casey's attention back to class.
“Is she cute? How do I get to her profile from here? This is just the chat.”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Why, think I’ll steal her away?” Casey laughs as he pulls his laptop with the textbook open on it closer to him. “I’ll trade you the answer for a detail on your girl.”
“No.”
“Come on.”
“She goes to this school.”
He scoffs. “Damn copout, but I guess a deal is a deal. The answer is 3.85 percent. You should know that.”
“Not as fast as you do,” I say, writing it down. This professor still preferred paper in place of electronics. Should’ve seen his face when he told us the textbook was online only. I thought his eyes were gonna get stuck in the back of his head.
Casey stares at me, not his textbook like I'd like him to, with raised eyebrows waiting for me to give him something about my match.
“I hardly know her,” I repeat, though the words feel like a lie on my tongue. We talked ’til four in the morning, then she fell asleep and for once I was sad when the other person stopped responding.
Connection is hard, despite what people may think about omegas. We’re not always searching for the next dick or hole to get off on.
I presented when I was nineteen. My first heat came not too long after.
I’d been to the Omega Center and Company to find heat partners, and, well, it went fucking horribly.
I didn’t enjoy it at all. I was counting the hours until it was over.
I spent my heat with two alphas—one female, one male—who did their best, but it was still a horrible fucking time.
I need a connection. Sharing a heat with professionals, with strangers…it made things really damn hard. My next heat I spent by myself, which somehow was worse.
But I will not go back to the center. I’ll deal with it my way. Find my own partners. Find consistent partners that I can get to know. Build friends with benefits.
Enter: the Heat Seekers app.
“For someone you hardly know, you are quite possessive…”
“Whatever, man,” I mutter, trying to ignore the buzz I can hear in my bag. The flush on my face won’t go away, and wisps of my scent start licking the air. Pancakes. Soft warm pancake scent constantly follows me.
Fuck. My eyes meet Casey’s, and his face tells me my frilly-ass scent is spreading around the room.
Dammit all to hell.
“Ignore it. Everyone else should too. We’re all adults.
” Casey’s eyes harden at the low murmur growing in the room.
I shake my head, trying to get Esper off my mind in hopes it’ll help dampen the heat in my body with no luck.
My next heat isn’t close—call me an early bird for trying to prepare—but right now, it feels like it could come on any day.
I try to focus on keeping my ass in this chair. Casey is right. Omegas have fought for us to be allowed to sit in a class, to be in school with everyone else.
I can’t be so damn sensitive. I can’t let a little growling bother me.
Leaning back in my chair, I let out a sigh, knowing everyone within a table’s distance can smell my pancake scent.
So fucking what, I try to tell myself. Let them smell and judge. Fuck them.
Determined, I lean in to work on the assignment with Casey. We’ve gotten through two problems when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
I huff and then whip around in my chair. An alpha towers over me, of fucking course. This dumbass must be a jock. His muscles surpass mine, but I doubt the guy’s ever been in a fight with his untarnished, tanned skin.
“Can I fucking help you?” I snap, standing up to the fucker head on. What the hell did he think was gonna happen, coming up to a perfuming omega in class? Am I supposed to fall at his feet, fucking grateful? I can’t think of one omega who’d be comfortable with this little stunt.
I stand eye to eye with him and he backs away one step. Good.
“Just checking–”
“Checking what?”
The guy’s cockiness turns to anger, and that makes me smile.
Know who the fuck you’re approaching next time.
“Checking on the omegas—”
“We’re fine,” Casey cuts in, glaring at the random alpha.
“So go sit your ass down and don’t bother us again.” I slam back down into my chair. I want to send a bigger message, but I’m also not trying to get kicked out of class, let alone the damn school.
My anger doesn’t help my issue. In fact, I think it makes it worse. My skin bleeds my scent and I can’t help but get…I don't know…angsty about it. I remain perfectly still, trying to at least pretend I'm reading this textbook in front of me, but I'm a lost cause. I’ll have to catch up later.
“I’m seconds away from saying fuck this class and going for ride.” My bike called for me.
“Ten more minutes," Casey murmurs, flipping a page of the textbook. How the hell does he always manage to hold himself together? “Maybe call up Esper to handle your little problem.”
“Ain’t nothing little.” The clock ticks behind me and I need a distraction. One with brown hair and pretty eyes and who loves using emojis all the damn time.
I should find that shit annoying, but it’s honestly adorable as fuck.
“Make sure to complete chapter two this week and turn it in by next class.”
The professor dismisses us, and I shoot out of my chair, ready to get the hell out of here.
“Fuck, man,” I mutter as Casey clasps my shoulder.
“You did it. You survived.”
Casey heads to his next class, and I all but jog to the parking lot. One goal in mind.
My bike leans casually on her kickstand, suave and confident. Her deep red body shines under the midday sun.
I dart towards her. Fucking finally. My fingers itch for the black handlebars.
Hopping on the bike, I crank her and rev the engine, feeling the rush under my skin and the rumble between my legs. Speed is nothing but a number on the dash as I race to the clubhouse. The wind gusts past me, a delicious sting I crave all the time. Almost as much as I crave my nest.
I need my nest. And a damn shower.
The trees and streets blur as I ride past, my twenty-minute ride ending all too fast as Midnight Wolves Plaza comes into view.