Omega's Trick of Heat

Prologue

“Elsie, there’s a letter for you!”

My mom’s calm voice travels to me, her tone soft and unhurried.

Still, my anxiety spikes at her words. I amble out of my room before making my way down to the kitchen.

She stands at the stove as she bastes the ribeyes with garlic and thyme, the aroma so mouthwatering that it eases my nerves the tiniest bit.

I see the blue envelope sitting idle on the table and pick it up, my fingertips caressing the soft paper as energy drums in my gut.

“Are you and Casey going to the game tonight?” my mother asks, completely oblivious to the life-altering information that the letter holds.

“Yeah, he should be over soon.” Tonight’s the last baseball game of the season. It’s not soccer or football, but it’s still very enjoyable to watch, and both Casey and I want to show as much school spirit as we can before we graduate in a few weeks.

“Those letters came late this year,” my mother states, her eyes glancing at the letter in my hand. “Normally they come in March or April.”

“You’re telling me,” I mutter, the anxiousness growing. “What if it’s not an acceptance? What if they send the rejections last?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” she chastises me. “There could be a load of reasons, no need to go to worst case scenario.”

I sigh. “I’m a worst-case-scenario kind of girl, Mom.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Just as she says that, the doorbell sounds, and she turns back to the pan to take it off the burner. “That must be Case. Keep your door cracked, please. You two aren’t eight anymore.”

I groan. “Mom, he’s another omega.”

“That means nothing to me,” she jokes, cracking a smile.

It does to everyone else, though.

When she sees my face, she tsks at me. “There are plenty of double omega pairs out there, Els.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say, because she reminds me all the time. I guess my poker face over designating as an omega doesn’t fool her as much as it does everyone else.

I walk off, the letter still gripped in my hand. When I open the door, Casey is standing there waiting for me, the same blue envelope flashing in his grip.

My eyes widen. “Is that—?”

“You got yours, too?” he asks.

We both pause, cracking nervous smiles. Casey nods at my interrupted question, holding the letter delicately while his other hand runs through his blond hair in a nervous tick.

“I wanted to open it with you,” he confesses.

My heart jumps in my chest, the beat sputtering as my stomach dips with warmth. “You did?”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “I figured if one of us doesn’t get accepted, we should at least find out together.”

That sobers me. These letters are more than just words on a page; they determine how the next four years will go. The curt reminder that one of us might have to spend the next four years without the other churns my stomach.

I’ve never gone a day without seeing Casey since we were eight and accidentally stumbled into each other on the bus.

Despite riding the bus for half the school year, we never spoke, never even caught wind of each other.

We had different teachers and different friend groups.

The only thing we had in common was the neighborhood we lived in.

Then one day, when every student on the bus seemed to have a diorama for the science fair, Casey and I ran smack into one another, our projects completely smashed in the middle.

I cried the entire ride to school. He tried to console me, but I was so disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to participate.

Sure, I would fail and my mom would be angry, but I was more upset that I wouldn’t be able to present my project alongside everyone else.

But then Casey told the teachers what happened, and instead of instant fails and disappointed looks, our teachers gave us a week to make it up.

We had our own little science fair together; me with my project about honey bees and him with his diorama of why dinosaurs were actually huge birds. We both got an A.

We were each other’s cheerleaders, and we haven’t stopped since.

Still, I had no idea that one little mishap would send us down this path, where we saw each other every day and became a constant in each other’s lives. That one awkward moment changed everything for us, and today this tiny piece of paper might put an end to it.

“Come on, let’s go to my room.”

We travel through the living room and up the stairs to my room. When we get inside, Casey lets out a small grunt, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhales.

I wince, embarrassment coursing through me. My pheromones are much more potent here than anywhere else in the house, and I am sure he is still getting used to the candy apple scent following me around since I only designated a few weeks ago.

“Sorry,” I apologize. “I’m still trying to get my scent under control.”

He flusters, his eyes opening immediately. “No! Don’t worry about it. It’s only been a few weeks since you designated. I remember how much my scent took over after I designated. It was the longest four weeks of my life.”

I grit my teeth at that reminder. Casey designated as an omega last fall, which was the perfect time for his dreamy masala chai scent to present itself.

It went perfectly with the changing leaves and crisp air of September.

The dark herb and creamy tea texture of his scent became my favorite aroma.

Every time I scent it, my brain loses its train of thought and my limbs feel loose, like I just got the best massage money can buy.

I fell a little bit more in love with him after that.

Not that it mattered, I’d been tiptoeing around my feelings for my best friend longer than even I knew.

I’m not sure when my adoration for him turned romantic, just that it went from innocent to serious really quick after our sophomore year, when kissing didn’t sound as scary anymore and dating became more normalized.

My yearning flew up a notch practically overnight, like this weird feeling in my chest was telling me that Casey was the blueprint for all of our happiness. It scared me, sent me to the brink of madness, and it never eased up.

Not to mention, it’s only gotten worse since I’ve designated.

There was never a chance I would be an alpha.

I’m too soft, too sensitive; that’s something Casey and I have always had in common.

We both enjoyed being the center of attention so much that I never considered we would grow to be anything more than friends, and now that we both know we’ll need alphas to help with our future heats, that reality is looking even more unlikely.

I’m just destined to pine after my best friend until I meet the alpha of my dreams, which doesn’t seem to be happening anytime soon.

I swallow roughly and try to change the subject.

“Aiden Mayberry told me that my scent was too sweet today,” I admit. “He said it was like he was choking on red 40 and expired Apple Jacks.”

Casey’s jaw tightens. “Aiden Mayberry has a small dick and smells like cheese.”

I let out a cackle before narrowing my gaze at him. “How do you know he has a small dick?”

He bites his lip, a seductive motion that has my eyes moving involuntarily. “Let’s just say he isn’t above trying to seduce someone ‘below his station,’ but I wasn’t interested in what he was offering.”

My hand flies to my mouth as we both erupt into laughter. “What the hell? When did this happen?”

“Last semester after I designated.”

My eyes widen, amusement curling at the corner of my lip. “I cannot believe that. He’s a bit… I mean, he’s the last person I would expect to seduce another guy. He can be a bit homophobic.”

“Newsflash, El,” Casey says, mischief in his eyes. “Most homophobes are secretly in the closet.”

I snort. “True.”

Silence erupts as the letters between us seem to demand our attention once more, reminding us of the real reason we’re here and why our scents are riddled with tension.

Suddenly the air feels heavy as we can no longer ignore their presence.

“We should just rip the bandage off, huh?” I voice.

Casey doesn’t move a muscle; he just stares at the letters, his face an impenetrable mask. “How about we open each other’s?”

My chest beats wildly in my chest. “Yeah! Yeah, let’s do that. We can… maybe that will—” I ramble, trying to sort through my anxiety. I wipe my suddenly sweaty hand on the comforter and bite my lip so hard I think I can taste blood.

Stress courses through my veins. For half a second, I think the weight of it is going to send me into a spiral, but then Casey’s scent seems to soften.

His perfume turns into soothing notes, the dreamy aroma working overtime to calm my beating heart.

The feeling is enchanting, and I don’t fully grasp how much good it does for me until I’m reaching for his letter and holding it with steady hands.

“Better?” Casey asks, his crystal-blue eyes gentle and observant.

I nod. “I’m perfect. I just… I need to know. The anticipation is killing me.”

He lets out a tiny chuckle. “Me too.”

We each hold each other’s letters, and I’m surprised by how similar his feels. I guess it’s the exact same letter no matter what the words say, but I can’t help but let it spark the tiniest bit of hope.

My fingers slip under the fold of the envelope carefully as I try to avoid any paper cuts. When the glue undoes itself and lets me slip it open, my stomach twists. I pull the paper out as I actively avoid watching Casey do the same thing.

My eyes trail over the first few words and my heart leaps.

We are pleased to inform you that your application to White Pine Crest University has been accepted.

He did it.

I read the sentence over and over again, my smile flying free. For an entire minute, I’m not thinking about my own letter or worried about the idea that we might be separated. I’m just proud of my friend for getting into the college of our dreams.

“Elsie?”

I hesitate for only a moment, doubt and worry riddling me, but then I look up at Casey’s smiling face. It’s light and elated and free of panic, and that’s what makes my heart skip like a racehorse that just won its first Kentucky Derby.

“I got in?” I ask, my lip trembling.

He nods and points at the paper in my hand. “I got in?”

Instead of answering, my body seems to move without thinking because it flies right into Casey’s, his arms catching me before we fall over into a heap on my bed.

I wrap my limbs around him, clutching his shoulders as relief soars through me.

I may also shed a tear or two, but nobody needs to know that.

“We don’t have to separate,” I whisper in his ear, letting the truth of the words flow into reality.

“No, never,” he agrees, holding me tight. “I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”

My hormone-riddled brain causes the words to sound much more sultry than I’m sure he intended, but I don’t bother to correct it.

The omega inside me lets me have it, even for just a moment.

Maybe it would have been for the best if we were forced apart since we can never be together, but that’s not what I want.

I want him in my life, even if it’s just platonic between us for the rest of it.

Still, that’s a problem for another day. Right now, I am just overjoyed by the fact that I don’t have to say goodbye to my best friend. I have four more years to figure out how to tell Casey that I love him, or four years to finally accept that it might never happen.