11. Roman

11

Istumble between library shelves, heading in the vague direction of the table my study group usually reserves. My mind is stuck on a certain male omega.

Sawyer.

He's the omega from the bar. The one who was staring at us. The café owner Ky pissed off.

The realization only hit me belatedly, as I was walking away from him to bring him water.

His fault, for distracting me, tangling up my thoughts by being so damn sexy.

Even pale and sweating as he was, obviously not okay, he smelled so good, and those eyes of his… That mouth…

Fuck.

I never thought I was into omegas. After all, it's no coincidence I ended up in a pack with just two hulking alphas. I like my mates to be big, strong and gruff, not sickly-sweet omegas.

Yet Sawyer doesn't seem sickly sweet… or delicate. He accepted my help grudgingly, and he has a formidable glare. Cute, really, that glare. Yet laser-hot.

And I get the feeling sometimes that my alphas would love a softer addition to our pack. They say we don't need anyone else, but I'm kind of sharp-edged myself. Oh, I can cuddle with the best of them, but they want someone… to coddle. And that's not me.

But Sawyer may not be it, either.

I know nothing about him. So why am I even thinking…?

"Ro!" William, one of my fellow students and a beta like me, waves at me from our table. "Over here! You're late."

"I know," I grumble as I join the group. I grin at him as we do a fist bump. "How is it going?"

"Remind me again why I'm studying this shit?"

"Oh, come on. You love it."

"Ethnography. Biological anthropology. Social and cultural anthropology." Matthew, an alpha who looks more like a muscular beta, moans theatrically, biting his lip. "So many dirty words…"

Emilia snickers behind her hand. "Yeah, we're here for the smut."

She's an omega. I gaze at her, trying to figure out what drew me to Sawyer. Is it because he's an omega, or because he's Sawyer? I've been studying with Emi for months now and never felt a single lick of attraction toward her.

And that hasn't changed, apparently, as all I see is a funny girl who likes chewing sour candy and wants to become a museum curator someday.

A valid aspiration.

Still no attraction.

"What's that frown for, Roman, my man?" Matthew asks. "You haven't even opened a book yet, so you have no reason to be sad."

"Maybe that's the reason why," I mutter, sitting down at the only free seat and pulling out the book we're currently reading. "Books relax me. It's just been a weird week."

"Did you work late last night?"

"Yeah."

"Your sugar daddies still not supporting you as they should?" Jessica, a pretty alpha, winks at me.

"Oh, fuck you," I say and grin.

"No, thanks. But if you don't want your stingy alphas anymore, I'd be willing to take them off your hands."

"They aren't stingy. And hands off my men." I open the book, find the chapter we are studying, and bookmark it with my finger. There's something about the feel of pages under my fingertips, the weight of a book, the scent of paper that relaxes the usual knot in my stomach. "Shall we?"

"Sure. Who doesn't want to talk all day about Franz Boas, anyway? The famous pioneer of modern anthropology and fucking racist?"

"He was against racism," I say. "No idea what you read, but he led the fight against racism. He's my hero."

"Plenty of racism in historical anthropology."

"This is about learning," I tell him, "exactly. Know an evil so you will recognize it when you encounter it again."

William slow-claps. "Your Tibetan Guru Roman Valero, ladies and gentlemen, bringing you another motto to live by."

I laugh along with them, then wince when the librarian shushes us. I really like these guys, but my mind is on other things today.

On other people.

I seriously need a day off, to veg out on the couch and watch documentaries. Get rid of the tension headache of the past week, snack on junk food, and have sex.

If my men have the time.

My job is fun but the shifts are tiring, and I can't quit now. No, it's not that my alphas are stingy. They are really not, but they also aren't filthy rich. I can't just resign and spend my days as a privileged student, either. My pride wouldn't let me accept such an offer, anyway.

I got this. I'm happy. I made my choices and they were good ones. I have no regrets. My life feels… almost complete. Almost perfect.

That omega, though… Damn. So pretty. So… intriguing.

How the hell am I supposed to focus on my anthropology course with his face stuck in my mind?

"Hey, Ro." Kyrian comes to lean against the bar, folding his muscular, inked arms on the polished top. "How is it hanging? How was the study group?"

"Fine," I murmur, taking him in.

Kyrian is a walking wet dream, drawing everyone's gaze as he walks by, with that impressive physique, the bad boy tats, and that handsome face with just a hint of softness when he grins. His mouth is soft, in contrast to the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones.

Yeah, I'm so damn lucky. I met my alphas here at the Alpha Bet, and it's a pleasure to catch glimpses of them during my shifts, you know? To be aware they're close by. How many people can say that?

Sure, I know that not everyone wants to be around their mates all the time, but I like it. Is that weird?

Who cares? It's my life, right?

So what if my mom and dad want grandchildren? So what if they're upset I chose to be with two alpha males?

Too bad. They'll get over it. They're just acting all melodramatic every time I call, telling me how disappointed they are when all their cousins' and neighbors' houses are full of children laughing.

And shrieking, I remind them. Screaming. Weeping. Breaking things. Wreaking chaos. Using up your last drop of patience.

It doesn't matter, they tell me. Children are a blessing.

I'm no saint, I reply. I can't bless you. Better find happiness another way.

Basically, they've placed their bet for happiness on me, and I'm supposed to provide them with babies to play with.

Now, that is sad. They have each other. They love each other. Instead of pinning their hopes on me, they should get out and have fun, and…

A shadow is moving over my face and I jerk back, putting my cocktail shaker down. Then it sinks in that it's Kyrian's hand. He's waving it in front of me. "What?"

"You spaced out on me. What's up?"

"Nothing, I just…" I snort softly. "I met your pissy boyfriend at the library."

"My what?"

"The café owner. That cute omega."

"He's not my boyfriend, pissy or otherwise," he says. "He was at the library?"

"Yeah, you know. That place you hate?"

"I don't… hate it."

"But you don't like it, either."

"Too many books," Kyrian grumbles.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you don't like books."

I look up and catch… something odd flitting behind his pale eyes. Something vulnerable, like regret and longing. For what? Books?

I'm imagining things. Kyrian is your average Hulk-like alpha, with little interest in literature and the fine arts. Yeah, I know that's an overgeneralization. Betas are also thought to only like sports and stupid TV shows. And don't get me wrong. He's brilliant. Amazing. Kind. Sexy.

But there's this aversion he seems to have where letters are concerned. The written word. He even dislikes newspapers and magazines, brochures and flyers.

Even bills.

He hates reading. Says it strains his eyes and gives him headaches. But from the annoyance in his gaze when he talks about books, I get the impression he thinks they're for pussies or something.

Which irks me. He doesn't… feel like he's that sort of man, to discriminate, consider anyone with prejudice. It doesn't fit in with the Kyrian I know.

It's been weighing on me. It hadn't struck me as odd until recently. I guess he let down his guard around us and expresses himself more freely these days. I know people who think reading romances or fantasy is not a serious pastime, that spending time lost in the pages of a book is for lazy people, that if you insist on reading, you should only read the classics, or autobiographies of great personages.

It makes me self-conscious of my interests, something I never thought I'd feel around one of my men.

It bothers me, like a thorn under the skin. I have to talk to him about it, clear it up. I love him, but if he thinks less of me because I also love books, well that…

That will break my goddamn heart.

Then again there's Archer's theory… Could he be right?

Kyrian puts his hand on my cheek, startling me out of my thoughts. "Well," he says gruffly, "I should get back to the door. It's Friday, I have to control the incoming crowd."

"You do that," I whisper, his hand hard and warm on my face, belying all my worries and doubts. "I'll see you later."

"Later." He winks, and my heart hums, just as my cock hardens.

A touch of tenderness, and a promise of ruthless fucking to come.

See how he won over my heart?