Chapter 2

Chapter Two

H arper

I lay the various swimsuits out on my bed from complete and utter cover up to itty bitty, teeny weeny. I swing my gaze back and forth along the line, weighing up everything that could go wrong if I opt for the tiny, stringy thing. I don’t want to look like a prude, an omega who is scared of her own body. I also don’t want to look like an omega who’s desperate for three pairs of alpha hands to land on her body. Even if she’s feeling increasingly desperate with every passing day.

I opt for the bikini in between. The bottoms are high waisted and low cut and the top has a lot of support, which means I won’t be bouncing around all over the place. Plus, it’s a chocolate color that complements my hazel eyes and blonde hair.

It may not be worthy of Miss America, but it’ll keep me out of trouble.

Once I’m dressed, I stand in front of the mirror and inspect my body. The bikini is a little tighter than I remember; my boobs threaten to spill out of the top. I decide it might act like a red flag to a bunch of alphas and throw on a kaftan over the top.

Then, telling myself this is a bad idea and I’m asking for trouble – alpha-shaped trouble – I descend the staircase, walk through the house, and step out onto the deck.

The three alphas are sprawled on loungers by the pool, like snoozing lions. Lions whose heads snap in my direction.

“So you decided to join us,” Owen says, swinging up to sit and peering at me over the top of his shades. “I’d begun to think you’d changed your mind.”

Daxton peers back down at his phone, his dark curly hair flopping into his face. “You’re an omega,” he says, without looking at me. “It’s midday. You shouldn’t be out in the sun.”

I glance up at the sky. He is probably right. It’s roasting out here. But the way he says that irritates the hell out of me and makes me determined to stay out in the 95-degree heat, even if it kills me.

“I’m made of sturdy stuff,” I tell him, throwing my towel onto the fourth lounger and flicking off my flip-flops.

“That’s one word for it,” Wyatt mutters, rubbing his hand over his buzz cut, the light catching the short blades of hair and turning them from a nut brown to a shade of red. He has a smattering of freckles over his nose and green eyes, which would make him look positively cutesy if it weren’t for the square jaw and considerable amount of muscles.

Without looking up from his phone, Daxton smacks his friend on the arm.

“That’s my sister,” he says.

“Step-sister,” Owen says, a full smile on his face that does crazy things to my blood pressure and my stomach.

Coming out here was not sensible, not sensible at all. Which for someone who prides herself on sensibleness is totally out of character.

However, as sensible as I am, I’m just as stubborn, and Daxton’s obvious irritation at my presence irritates me.

Okay, he’s not happy about his dad marrying my mom. He made that clear when ‘his studies’ meant he was too busy to attend the wedding six months ago. But that isn’t my fault and he could at least be polite, attempt to get to know his little step-sister.

“I’m going for a swim,” I announce. Both Owen and Wyatt nod, eyes locked on me. I reach for the hem of my kaftan and drag it over my head.

“Shit,” Wyatt whispers, “Daxton, your sister is hot!”

Daxton’s eyes flick up momentarily from his screen, assess me, then drop back to whatever he finds so engrossing. “Step-sister,” he mutters.

If I was worried something inappropriate might happen between me and these three alphas, it’s clear I’ve nothing to be concerned about. Daxton is no more interested in me than he is wrestling crocodiles in the Amazon.

I walk to the side of the pool, aware Owen and Wyatt are watching me closely, position my toes over the side of the pool, lift my hands over my head, and, bending my knees, dive into the water. It’s like heaven. Cool and refreshing and divine. I glide along the bottom of the pool, halfway to the other side, when I realize I’ve left my bikini top somewhere behind me.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Wrapping my arms around my boobs, I bob to the surface, keeping the water level with my chin. I scan the pool.

“I think you lost something,” Owen says, striding to the side of the pool and pointing down into its depths. The brown top is floating on the surface, its straps spread out around it like an octopus. “I’ll get it for you.”

“No, it’s okay. I can–” But I’m too late. He’s already bending down to scoop the top out of the water. Holding it up, he examines the garment, then jumps down into the pool and wades towards me.

If I found his proximity in my room overwhelming, it’s a million times more so, standing in the cold pool in only a pair of bikini panties.

“Turn around,” he commands, “and I’ll fasten it back on for you.”

I should thank him for the very kind offer and tell him I can do it myself. But it seems I’ve lost my senses. Or perhaps it’s my inner omega responding to that alpha command. Either way, I spin around in the water and wait with bated breath.

He takes a step closer towards me in the water. The front of his swimming trunks brush against my backside. He leans down to whisper by my ear.

“Move your arms, little omega.”

I glance up at my step-brother, still engrossed in that phone, and slip my arms away. It’s not like Owen can see anything. He’s standing behind me and the water distorts the image of my tits. Sure, you can form a good idea of the size of my tits and the shape of my nipples. But they’re definitely blurred.

“Fuck,” Owen murmurs.

And yeah, I may have misjudged that, because he’s taller than me and able to peer right over my head and down into the water.

I go to take a step away from him, deciding this is dangerous, but his hands already wrap around my body and he slides my bikini top up my stomach, over my rib cage, and positions the fabric over my tits, gliding his thumbs over my stiffening nipples.

“Nice tits,” he whispers, then threads the straps around my back and flicks the fastening closed.

If I was in my right mind, not high on alpha pheromones, I would totally slap him round the face for that. Instead, I’m damn tempted to snatch up his hands and place them right back where they were. Because, after all, the man is a doctor (trainee doctor) and I can already tell his hands are skilled. Not the usual painful grope or inexperienced fondle.

“You smell really good,” he whispers into my ear and I step away, sinking into the water and eyeing him over the rippling surface.

His eyes seem darker than they did a minute ago, and he swings his hands back and forth through the water like he’s caressing it. He smiles at me and it’s like a secret invitation. I can’t help smiling back.

“So what brings the three of you to Rockview?” I ask. Daxton has avoided the city for the last nine months and now, all of a sudden, here he is with his two friends.

“The sunshine, the beach … the girls,” Owen says.

“Aren’t there enough girls back at college?”

“He’s slept with all of them,” Wyatt says, jumping into the water and then skimming his hand over the surface, sending spray towards his friend’s face.

“So now you’ve moved on to fresh hunting grounds?” I ask, arching an eyebrow. I don’t want to be hunted by these alphas. I really don’t.

Or maybe I do, just a little bit.

“Wyatt’s talking bullshit. We’re here to get away from Daxton’s psycho ex.”

“Riiiiight,” I say, my voice full of sarcasm. “I’m sure she’s a real psycho.”

Daxton peers up from his phone, a frown on his brow. “What’s that meant to mean?”

I huff, lifting my feet from the bottom of the pool and floating in the water. “In my experience, the girls men like to label as psychos are anything but.”

“And why’s that?” Daxton says flatly, glaring at me.

“Usually the men have fucked them about big time. Like my friend Kerry. She dated this dude for a year. Then one day, he stopped answering her calls and messages. One moment they’re dating,” I lift my hand and click my fingers, “the next he’s totally ghosting her. And when she tried to contact him, because, you know, she was worried about him, all the guys labeled her a psycho bitch.”

“So you’re making a massive assumption about my situation and assuming it’s the same?”

I shrug. “Isn’t it?”

His eyes flit over my face, and he sits up straight on the lounger. “No.”

He’s pretty intimidating glaring at me like that, and despite my best effort, I’m forced to glance away, back to his two friends in the pool.

Wyatt’s watching me. Owen’s still smiling at me.

“Whether Daxton was responsible for her psycho behavior or not, she’s still acting crazy. It seems once those beta girls get a taste for alpha cock, they never want to let it go.”

“She’s a beta!” I say, my head snapping round to Daxton. “I didn’t know that was … I mean … you know.”

“Omegas are rare to find,” Daxton says, his eyes on me and I suddenly feel like prey surrounded by three vicious predators. Predators I don’t think I’d mind ripping me apart. “Not many go to college.”

I lift my chin. I’ve had this conversation a million times with my mom since that unexpected presentation a year ago. She believes there’s no longer any reason to go to college. Not when I could snag one of the super-wealthy packs in Rockview and live like a princess for the rest of my life.

“I’m going to college.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Owen says.

“I suppose you think I shouldn’t. I suppose you think an omega should concentrate on interior design and flower arranging. I suppose you think an omega has nothing better to offer than her–”

Owen raises a hand, laughing. “Shit, you really are judgmental. I don’t think any of that crap. I think an omega should do whatever she wants.” He winks at me. “I think an omega should do whoever she wants. I don’t subscribe to all that old-fashioned bullshit.”

“An omega needs to be careful,” Daxton says from his lounger.

“I can take care of myself.”

Daxton snorts. “Do you know how many omegas go missing every year?”

I roll my eyes. There have always been rumors like that of gangs kidnapping omegas to trade on the black market, or dubious companies running tests on omegas in the search for new drugs. Personally, I’ve always considered those to be scare stories to keep omegas in their place – under the heels of alphas.

“What, you don’t believe that?” Daxton says.

“I’m not going to let tall tales like that put me off from doing what I want.”

“And what do you want to do?” Wyatt asks.

“I want to study the history of art at Harvard.”

Owen whistles.

“Hence all the studying?” Wyatt asks.

“Yep,” I say, peering up at my window where I should be sitting right now and doing some studying, instead of flirting with alphas in a pool.

But I have done a lot of studying. So. Much. Studying.

Surely, I deserve just a little break.

“Although why the math?” Owen asks.

“I have to pass the entrance exam.”

“And what do you do when you’re not studying?” Wyatt asks.

I open my mouth.

I shut my mouth.

I open it again.

“You sound like a lot of fun,” Daxton says, picking up his phone and leaning back on the lounger.

“I can be fun,” I say.

“I’m sure you can,” Owen says. “I bet an alpha could have a lot of fun with you.”

“Stop perving on my sister,” Daxton says.

“She’s not your–”

“And don’t be deluded. She’s clearly a little virgin who doesn’t know how to have fun. Who doesn’t know how to do anything but study.”

“Wow,” I say, “you really are a sexist pig.” It’s kind of surprising. Ethan is so lovely – a firm ally and supporter of women’s rights. How could he have raised a son with such archaic views?

“And you are judgmental.” He rests his phone beside him and closes his eyes. “I’m also not wrong.”

“You are!” I blurt out, not sure why I care what they think of me. Actually, totally aware why I care.

“Then prove it,” he says.

“Prove it? I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“Of course not, because you’re a little boring virgin who doesn’t know how to have fun.”

My nostrils flare and my blood boils. He’s pressing all my buttons. And I’m not stupid; I know what he’s doing. I’m going to walk straight into this trap anyway. Maybe because I really freaking want to be trapped by these three alphas.

“How?” I say through gritted teeth. “How can I prove it?”