Chapter 23 – Billie
Twenty-Three
BILLIE
Morning comes, because morning is a bitch like that.
I drag myself through my new routine like a zombie, pulling on another skirt that makes me want to scream, another blouse that could feed a small village.
The suppressants sit heavy in my pocket. A constant fucking reminder that my body is a ticking time bomb I'm barely keeping in check.
Olivia watches me as I grab my bag. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep."
"Thinking about Prince Corvinus?" Her tone is teasing, but there's an edge underneath. She still hasn't forgiven me for turning down what she considers the opportunity of a lifetime.
Every other omega on campus hates me for earning the prince's attention. She hates me for refusing it. Figures.
"Something like that." I head for the door before she can press further.
The walk to Omega Biology is a blur of whispers and stares.
Word has spread about yesterday's combat demonstration, about me breaking the prince's nose in front of twenty witnesses.
Some omegas look impressed. Most look horrified.
All of them are talking. But at least I finally have a break from Corvinus and the rest of his triad.
I push through the classroom door, already dreading another ninety minutes of discussing my reproductive system like it's public property, and freeze.
He's here.
Prince Corvinus is sitting in the front row, looking completely out of place among the sea of pastels and pheromone perfume.
He's wearing the university uniform, but on him it looks like it was custom-tailored.
His white hair catches the morning light streaming through the windows, making him look like some kind of celestial being that wandered into the wrong dimension instead of the power hungry species that invaded mine.
And he's smiling.
That knowing, infuriating smile that makes me want to punch him in his perfect face.
Again.
Every omega in the room stares at him like he's a dream come to life. Isabella, sitting in her usual front-row seat, looks like she's about to spontaneously combust. Her perfect composure cracks just enough for me to see the fury burning underneath.
Yeah, she fucking hates me alright.
The only empty seat is next to him.
Of course it is.
I make my way down the aisle, feeling every eye track my movement. The whispers start immediately.
"Why is he here?"
"Do you think he's—"
"With her?"
"No way."
"This is unprecedented."
I drop into the seat beside Corvinus, keeping my expression neutral even though I want to strangle him with my bare hands. He turns to me, his eyes glittering with amusement.
"Good morning, Billie."
"I think I liked it better when you called me Ms. Moreau."
He flashes me a dazzling grin. "We're on a first-name basis now, aren't we? Sleep well?"
"Like the dead." I pull out my notebook with more force than necessary as I try to tune out the whispers and pretend I don't notice the envying stares. Good thing looks can't actually kill, or I'd be screwed. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Attending class. Same as you."
"This is Omega Biology." I gesture around the room at all the other omegas who look like they're trying to figure out if they should be jealous or concerned. "You know, for omegas?"
"Is it?" He tilts his head in false innocence. "I hadn't noticed."
"You're not even trying to be subtle."
"Why would I?" He leans back in his chair, completely at ease despite being the only alpha in a room full of omegas. "I find the subject matter fascinating."
I stare at him, trying to process the sheer audacity. "You really expect me to believe you're interested in omega biology?"
"I'm interested in your omega biology." His smile widens. "There's a difference."
The collar around my neck heats up, probably responding to my blood pressure spiking into the stratosphere. "You changed all my classes."
"Most of them," he corrects. "I left this one alone. Seemed only fair to join you instead, since I had a free period."
"Fair? FAIR?" My voice rises enough that several omegas turn to stare. I lower it to a hiss. "You manipulated my entire schedule, isolated me in classes filled with alphas, and now you're crashing the one class that's supposed to be omega-only?"
"When you put it like that, it does sound rather excessive." He doesn't look remotely apologetic. "But I prefer to think of it as thorough. Besides, it's the one class on your original roster I think you'll find beneficial. You have a lot of catching up to do."
"You're insane."
"Probably." He leans closer, voice dropping as he studies me like the cat who got the cream. "But you're the one who broke my nose yesterday. So which of us is really the dangerous one?"
Before I can respond, Professor Wyngrave enters, her golden eyes immediately locking onto Corvinus. She pauses mid-stride, clearly not expecting to find a prince in her omega biology class.
"Your Highness." She recovers quickly, inclining her head. "This is... unexpected."
"Professor Wyngrave." He rises with princely courtesy. "I hope you don't mind my presence. I find myself with a new interest in the subject matter."
The way he says it, like he's discussing the weather instead of crashing a class specifically designed to teach omegas about their reproductive systems, makes my eye twitch.
Professor Wyngrave's expression suggests she minds very much, but she's not about to tell a prince to leave. "Of course not, Your Highness. Please, make yourself comfortable."
He sits back down, that infuriating smile still in place. I want to kick him. Want to grab one of the decorative crystals on the professor's desk and see how far I can shove it up his—
"Today," Professor Wyngrave begins, her voice slightly strained, "we'll be discussing the biological markers that indicate omega compatibility with potential mates."
Oh, this is going to be torture.
Sure enough, Corvinus leans forward with what appears to be genuine interest as the professor launches into a lecture about pheromone compatibility and scent matching.
The other omegas take notes frantically, stealing glances at him every few seconds like they're trying to memorize his presence for later worship.
Isabella's pen digs into her notebook so hard I'm surprised it doesn't puncture through the desk.
"The process of scent matching," Professor Wyngrave continues, clearly trying to pretend there isn't a prince in her classroom disrupting decades of omega-only tradition, "is one of the most reliable indicators of compatibility.
When an omega encounters a compatible alpha, her body responds in specific, measurable ways. "
Corvinus raises his hand.
No. Absolutely not. He is not about to—
"Yes, Your Highness?" Professor Wyngrave's tone is wary.
"Could you elaborate on these physical responses?" He asks it with such genuine curiosity that if I didn't know better, I'd think he actually gave a shit about the academic material. "For example, how does an omega's body differentiate between general attraction and true compatibility?"
Every other omega in the room leans forward, hanging on the professor's every word. I want to sink through the floor and disappear into the earth's molten core.
"An excellent question." Professor Wyngrave moves to the board, symbols appearing in glowing script.
"General attraction may cause elevated heart rate, flushed skin, increased pheromone production.
But true compatibility triggers deeper responses.
Heightened sensitivity to the alpha's scent.
There's also a specificity to it. Alphas in general have a scent that ranges in degree of pleasantness, varying between observers, but when a scent match is at play, that scent becomes highly distinct.
Said alpha would smell like an alpha to the average omega, but to his scent match, he would smell like a unique fragrance, or sometimes a combination of multiple scents. "
"Like apple pie?" an omega from the back offers, earning a chorus of snickers.
The professor's lips twitch slightly. "That is one… unique possibility, yes."
"What if we're already chosen by an alpha and then ten years later, we meet some guy who smells like tiramisu?" another omega asks.
Clearly, we need to reschedule this class until after lunch. Even I'm starting to get hungry, although the idea of alpha pheromones are about as appealing as eating an old leather boot.
Or at least, they should be. With a few annoying recent exceptions.
Professor Wyngrave looks decidedly uncomfortable with the direction this class is going in. I think Corvinus has started a mutiny.
"That's nothing for you to worry about," she insists.
"Scent matches are remarkably rare, and biological compatibility does not always a perfect match make.
Besides, there are downsides to a scent match.
Involuntary physical reactions when in close proximity to each other.
In some cases, what we call 'scent sickness' when separated for extended periods. "
Her eagerness to downplay the students' excitement immediately raises my suspicions. Not that I'm exactly a romantic where alpha-omega compatibility is concerned.
"Scent sickness?" Another omega pipes up, a blonde who's been shooting me death glares since I sat down. "What does that entail?"
"Nausea, disorientation, fatigue, and anxiety.
The omega's body essentially goes into withdrawal when separated from a compatible alpha's scent.
" Professor Wyngrave pauses. "Though this typically only occurs after prolonged exposure and the beginning stages of bond formation. Before a mating mark can be formed."
Corvinus's smile takes on a predatory edge. I can see he's enjoying the art of subtly derailing the class. It's like he's a vampire who feeds on chaos instead of blood.
The lecture continues, each minute more excruciating than the last. Professor Wyngrave deftly steers the topic away from scent matching and discusses heat cycles, nesting instincts, the biological imperative to bond.
And through it all, Corvinus sits beside me, asking questions he clearly already knows the answers to, playing the role of fascinated student while all the omegas in the room collectively lose their minds over him.
"Your Highness," a redhead near the middle chimes in, "is it true that royal Fae can sense omega compatibility from greater distances than common Fae?"
"I've heard that," he says smoothly. "Though I can't speak from personal experience. I've never tested the theory."
Liar. I can smell it on him, that subtle shift in his scent that says he's full of shit. But the omegas eat it up anyway, giggling and whispering like he's just revealed some great secret.
Isabella's knuckles are white where she grips her pen. Professor Wyngrave is clearly not enjoying the fact that the topic has shifted back to her least favorite subject.
The class drags on for what feels like seventeen years. By the time Professor Wyngrave finally dismisses us, I'm wound so tight I might actually shatter. I shove my notebook into my bag with more violence than strictly necessary, ready to flee before Corvinus can corner me again.
"Leaving so soon?" His voice stops me halfway to the door.
"I have another class." The lie tastes bitter. "You know, since someone changed my entire schedule without asking."
"I think you mean we have another class. But about that." He stands, moving to block my exit. "I wanted to apologize."
I blink. "You what?"
"For being so presumptuous." His expression is the picture of contrition, if contrition came wrapped in smug entitlement. "I should have consulted you first before making such sweeping changes."
"You think?"
"Though I must say," he continues, completely ignoring my sarcasm, "watching you break down defensive ward theory yesterday was quite enlightening. You have a natural aptitude for combat magic."
"I was raised to kill Fae. Of course I understand how to break your wards."
"See? Fascinating." He reaches for my bag before I can stop him, slinging it over his own shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Allow me."
"I can carry my own books."
"I'm sure you can." He starts walking, leaving me no choice but to follow or abandon my belongings. "But what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you?"
"The kind who respects personal boundaries?"
He laughs, the sound drawing stares from every omega we pass in the hallway. They're all watching, whispering, probably already spreading rumors about how the prince is carrying my bag like some kind of lovesick puppy.
Isabella's going to murder me in my sleep.
"You can't keep doing this," I hiss, trying to keep my voice low. "Following me around, showing up in my classes, carrying my shit like we're—like we're—"
"Like we're what?" He glances at me, those blue eyes dancing with amusement. "Courting? Engaging in the traditional mating rituals of our respective species?"
"We're not doing any of that!"
"Aren't we?" He stops walking, turning to face me fully. "I'm making my interest known. You're playing hard to get. Sounds like the beginnings of a thrilling romance to me."
"This isn't a romance, you delusional—" I cut myself off before I can finish that sentence with something that gets me executed for treason. "Look, I already told you. I'm not interested in being your pet."
"And I enjoy taming exotic, violent creatures." He gives a smile that would probably be the death of any other omega inn this room who happened to be on the receiving end of it. "Which makes you perfect."
So this is what people mean when they say they're seeing red. It's literal. "Find someone else. I'm sure there are plenty of omegas who'd love to be 'tamed.'"
"That rather defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" he challenges. "Besides, none of them broke my nose." He says it like it's a compliment. Like violence is foreplay in his twisted Fae brain.
Which, knowing what I know about the Fae, it probably is.
"I'm going to keep doing this," he says, resuming our walk toward my next class. "Showing up where you are, making myself unavoidable."
"Until I agree to be yours?"
"Until you realize you want to be mine," he counters. He stops outside the classroom, handing me my bag with a smile that should be illegal. "There's a difference."
"That's never going to happen."
"We'll see." His eyes hold mine for a beat too long. "I do enjoy a challenge, Billie. Now come, let's go learn the fascinating intricacies of Fae Penal Code. Something tells me you'll run up against it sooner or later."
With a wink, he disappears into the classroom.
I grip the strip on my bag so hard I'm sure it'll leave an impression for days.
Better than his neck.
I'm going to have to wait for that particular indulgence.