by Lily Archer
“Oh.” I lift my middle finger in response. “Now we’re even, then.”
Onin sighs. “Let’s get back to your needing. After the suppressant, did Ceredes control himself?”
“Yes. He and Jeren and Kyte—”
“Three Alphas!” Pinky gets to her feet this time, and I notice that her canine teeth are far pointier than normal.
“Ilwen, please.” He holds one hand out toward her. “Calm down.”
I hurry to explain, though I leave out the part about my panties experiencing a flash flood. “The cramps went away, and the guys stopped being so …” I try to find the right word but settle on the obvious one. “Alpha.”
He nods. “All this was your body preparing for the needing, but the suppressant took care of it. Good.” One of his hands reaches for the tray next to the bed and grabs a vial with a blinking blue tip. “Do you mind if I take a blood sample?”
Generally, I would say hell no to a request like that from an alien during a super weird and terrifying dream, but Onin is easily the nicest person I’ve met in a long time—on Earth or in space—so I agree. “If you need to.”
“I’ll be able to synthesize treatments for you much easier if I know your make-up.” He presses the blue blinking tip against my arm. It fills with blood though I don’t feel a needle prick. “Perfect.” He pulls it away and rises. “Now you two better get to class. It was nice to meet you, Lana. And if you ever need help, you know where I am.” He pats my shoulder, his bedside manner like a toasty blanket, and retreats to his desk.
“Come on,” Pinky—or Ilwen—snipes.
I follow her, though I’d much prefer to stay here with four-armed Onin.
“Are all humans this slow?” She motors down the long hall and stops in front of a shimmering window. “Let’s go, fliggy.”
“Fliggy?”
“You truly come from a moronic planet.” She rolls her eyes. “Fliggy is short for profligate.”
“Still don’t know what that means,” I mutter, then catch up and stare at the window, its surface like water, ripples and swirls pirouetting along it. It’s impossible. I’m gawking. “What’s that?”
Pinky rolls her eyes, grabs my arm, and shoves me into it as a scream rips from my throat.
8
Ceredes
The entire class comes to a halt as a shrieking Lana stumbles in through the door. I stand and notice Jeren and Kyte are both at attention. All the mud is gone from her, and it’s like I’m seeing her for the first time. Fair skin, big brown eyes, plump lips, and a curvy figure that fills out her odd clothes to perfection. My mouth waters.
She takes another couple of steps, then freezes, her eyes wide as she surveys the lecture hall. A plaster is draped across her nose, hints of blood on its edges. Ilwen skips through the door behind her with a saccharine smile and heads straight to her seat. No wonder Lana’s already traumatized.
Master Lintaru turns toward her, his head spinning a full 180 degrees. “What an entrance. Welcome, new Omega.”
“I’m not supposed to be—”
“Choose a seat.” Master Lintaru undulates slightly, his gelatinous limbs stuffed into his Gretar uniform. “We’re discussing molecular resonances that can be harnessed to achieve wormhole travel via the fleet’s virudivan engines.”
I sidestep the small pod of Omegas and hurry down to her, meeting Jeren and Kyte at the same time.
“Huh?” She blinks at Master Lintaru.
He blinks back. “You’re not wearing the appropriate uniform.”
“I was supposed to, um, change at a dorm but Pinky brought me here, so …”
“Pinky?” Ilwen hisses.
Jeren snorts. “Perfect.”
“Come on.” I take her arm. “I have a seat at my table.”
“I have one at mine.” Kyte steps in front of us.
“Mine has several.” Jeren takes her other arm. A slight current buzzes through me, a connection lighting up but not all the way. Something’s missing.
I can feel the eyes of the entire class bearing down on my back—interested Alphas, curious Betas, and observant Omegas. We’ll be the talk of the academy before this class is finished. Great.
“Seats, please.” Master Lintaru focuses on his wide lab table and pulls a tendril of pure energy from the atomic accelerator. Pressing it into a miniature airship we created earlier this term, the power expands until a blue streak of thrust pushes against the black table while Master Lintaru holds the ship in place with one of his tentacles. He continues with his lesson, the droning of his voice familiar, “As you can see, I’ve created a circle of power with the resonance from the …”
Lana looks back at the portal with a mix of anger and curiosity, and she seems almost stunned. Too much, too fast. She didn’t even know about the Gretar Fleet a few hours ago, and now she’s been thrust into the middle of it. Why did Commander Bartanz send for an Omega like her and then dump her here? Not to mention the fact that she should have started as a first year, not third. Why the advancement for someone who clearly knows nothing about the fleet?
“Let’s go.” Jeren points the way up the stairs toward the sparsely-filled table at the back of the room.
“She’s with me.” I keep my voice down, but I don’t let her go.
“Beg to differ.” Kyte crosses his arms, the tables of nearby Omegas and Betas audibly sighing at his flex.
I glance at my table. It’s full of Alphas. Most of them male. All of them eyeing Lana. Kyte’s table isn’t much better. Perhaps for once Jeren is right.
“Lead the way.” I jerk my chin toward Jeren, and we head up the stairs to his table. The few students sitting with him excuse themselves when Kyte and I walk up.
Lana, eyes still wide, stares around at the classroom. Plenty of eyes stare back at her. I don’t like it.
“Here.” I pull out a chair for her, and she sits but keeps her arms in tight as if she’s trying to take up the least possible space.
Kyte takes the seat to her right. “Don’t worry. Everyone’s new here at some time or other.”
Jeren tries to slide into the seat to her left, but I beat him to it. He grumbles and sits at the corner of the table.
“I don’t belong here.” She rubs her eyes. “I’ve told everyone that, even the snail-eyed lady who threatened to discipline me and the four-armed medic who fixed my nose. But I’m getting nowhere. This is like Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, and I’m going to be one of the kids who gets sucked up the chocolate hose or turned into a giant blueberry or sent to the garbage chute. It’s only a matter of time. Oh, and then there’s this whole mating thing that is pretty much blowing my mind. I mean, I’ve fooled around a little, but this is next level.”
Kyte gives her a bemused look. “Most of that was unintelligible, but I can assure you that you are right where you’re supposed to be.”
“They’re staring at me,” she whispers as Master Lintaru continues on his explanation of electrons necessary to initiate space travel. At least half the class is paying attention to our table instead of him.
“They’re staring at us.” I glance at Kyte and Jeren. “We’re not usually together.”
She turns to me, her brown eyes watery. “But you were on the ship. All three of you.”
“That was a fluke.” I shrug, enjoying the way my arm rubs against hers when I do it. “We aren’t friends.”
“Harsh.” Kyte grins.
“You know what I mean.” I shake my head.
“We run with different crowds, sure. But now we’ve got something in common.” Jeren stares at Lana.
“Obvious much?” Kyte pulls up his screen, flips to today’s lesson, and puts it on the table in front of Lana.
She squints at the equations. “I have no idea what I’m looking at.”
“Neither do I.” Kyte shrugs. “But that never stops me from pretending I’m following along.”
Some of the cadets have returned their attention to Master Lintaru. But others are still cu
rious. As if to prove my point, Gavros bounds up the stairs to us, his buzzcut almost as severe as his demeanor. He still thinks he should be the commander of Alphas, but of course, like with most things, he’s wrong.
“Who’s the Omega?” He takes the chair across from Lana, turning his back on Master Lintaru altogether.
“No greeting for me, Gavros?” Jeren pulls a blade from his sleeve and runs the tip down the already-gouged tabletop.
“I don’t waste my breath on thieving Larenoans.”
Jeren doesn’t react, but he doesn’t drop his gaze, either. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to hurt my feelings, Gavros.”
Kyte drapes his arm across the back of Lana’s chair. “Though I can’t tell you how lovely it is to see you up close, especially given the fanciful state of your unibrow, I think you might want to choose another seat. Why don’t you run along back to your table?”
When she leans into him, a flash of envy sparks through me, but there’s something else, too. Calm. Kyte has Lana’s back—and that seems to assuage the unwelcome feeling.
“No one was talking to you, little prince.” Gavros glowers, his wide nose flaring, the silver rings hanging from it clinking slightly.
“If you knew anything about royalty, you’d know we rather enjoy the sound of our own voice.” Kyte smiles, but there’s steel behind it. “And if you keep looking at Lana like that, I will be forced to give you a lesson in Calarian etiquette.”
“Are you challenging me?” Gavros leans back. “You want to take this to the dueling ring? I’m ready.” He snorts. “You won’t be royal if you’re dead.”
“Gavros.” I keep my voice low. “This Omega is none of your concern. Return to your table.”
“Is that an order, Commander?” Gavros’s black eyes gleam deadly.
“Take it however you want, but if you don’t stand up and walk away, I will challenge you. And we all know what happened the last time I met you in the dueling ring.”
He bares his teeth, both rows of them. “You won’t be on top forever, Ceredes.”
“Maybe not. But I am right now.”
Gavros clearly wants to say more, but he returns his attention to Lana. “Who is she to you?”
I’m on the verge of issuing my challenge when Lana speaks up. “She can speak for herself.” Her voice trembles, and I know it took unimaginable strength for her to say anything in the first place.
“Oh, she can?” Gavros smiles. “I like my females feisty. What’s your name, little Omega?”
“Lana, and I’m not just feisty, I’m a total bitch, so you might want to leave me alone.” Her bravado gives me a whole new appreciation for her.
“Lana. I like it.” He licks his lips. “And I love a challenge. You’d definitely make it worth my time. I can tell that just from your scent.”
“That’s pretty gross. Do you go around sniffing people for fun? Is that the sort of alien you are? What do they call you? The ‘noser’? Is that your race or something?” She leans forward, but Kyte pulls her tighter against him.
Gavros smiles. She shudders. Violence roils inside me, and I can tell Jeren is on the edge. Kyte plays it cool, but I don’t miss the sparks of energy that trace along his golden bands.
“Why are these three all over you? Have you given them a try? Milked their knots?”
I stand so fast the table jolts. “Shut your filthy mouth.”
Gavros stands, too, and leans over the table, his fists like boulders. “Touch a nerve?” He grins. “Or did she touch yours?”
White-hot rage—the likes of which I’ve never felt before—scorches through me. “I challen—”
“You’re ugly,” Lana blurts out, then winces.
Gavros looks down at her, likely just as surprised as the rest of us. “What did you—”
“I said you look like a turd had an affair with a wrinkled ball sack.” Lana’s voice gains strength as she hurls her (oddly creative) insult. “And I’m sick of seeing your face! You should go away.”
Gavros’s dark eyes open wide as he begins to sputter.
“Cadet Gavros,” Master Lintaru warbles from the front of the room. “Return to your table or face a demerit.”
Gavros backs up a step but gives Lana a long look. “These fools can’t handle the mouth on you. I can. Come see me when you want to know how a real Alpha treats an Omega.”
Jeren is poised to jump him, but Gavros makes his retreat.
“Stand down.” I glance at Jeren.
He shrugs as if he wasn’t about to spill blood, then pockets his blade.
“What was that?” Lana stares at Gavros’s back, his broad shoulders bulging with muscle and short spikes.
“Don’t worry about him.” I relax a hair. Even though Lana shouldn’t worry about Gavros, I will. He’s dangerous, and now that he’s gotten Lana’s scent, he’ll only grow more so.
“‘You’re ugly’?” Jeren grins.
“‘A turd had an affair with a wrinkled ball sack?’” Kyte snickers. “That’s an interesting insult, human.”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I just wanted him to go away. Maybe I should’ve called him a fliggy?”
Jeren coughs. Kyte sputters. And I turn my head so fast I may have pulled something in my neck. “Where in the Pillars did you hear that word?”
She blushes, and it somehow makes her even more beautiful. “Pinky called me that. A profligate or something like that?”
Jeren shoots an acid look at Ilwen. “That crusted offal of a bulbous rantagoon.”
“What does that word even mean?” Lana crosses her arms again. “I can’t get offended if I have no idea what she’s calling me.”
“That word refers to Alphas and Omegas that have forsaken the Gretar Fleet and indulged in their instincts.” I can’t put it more delicately.
“Instincts?” She turns to me, her heart-shaped face ending in the perfect point of her chin. But then she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Is this the mating thing again?”
“Yep.” Jeren shoots Gavros’s table another look, making sure the brute stays put.
Lana’s face is bathed in a bright blue as Master Lintaru sends the small ship into the air, its propulsion kicking in as it rises over our heads.
She shrinks back, but interest flickers to life in her gaze. “How can he make it do that? A remote control?”
“He’s created a thruster on the ship and powered it with a small orb of virudivan. Watch.” I lean closer. Kyte’s arm is still wrapped around her shoulders, and Jeren is watching her from the corner of his eye. All of us are focused on her, and that same connection that buzzed through me earlier seems to be sparking and fizzing to life. There’s something here. Something I never thought could exist. After all, there hasn’t been a new circle in the fleet in over three centuries.
“How does it do that? Seriously. It’s just sort of floating because of the blue stuff.” She stares at the small metal craft, and when it disappears, her mouth opens a little. When it reappears across the room, she squeaks. “How?”
“And so, through the manipulation of energy, a perfect circle of power can be created in any system that resonates with the appropriate molecular structure.” The ship floats down to Master Lintaru and alights on one of his tentacles. “Any questions?”
Lana turns to me again, her teeth worrying away at her bottom lip. “I have a question.” She runs her hand through her hair and pulls just a little. “To be honest, I have a million questions. But answer me this one.”
“Sure.”
“The scary guy said something about a knot. What’s that?”
Jeren’s barked laugh and Kyte’s choked cough coincide with the tone signifying the end of session. Thank the Pillars.
“We should get to our next class.” I rise quickly and offer her my hand.
“But what about my question?” She stares up at me with her big brown eyes. “What’s a knot?”
A nearby Beta snorts with amusement. One look from me has
him scurrying from the room.
This explanation should be easy for me. Scientific. Simple anatomy. But every time she says the word, my knot tightens. So, no, it is definitely not simple.
“Go on, Commander.” Kyte’s smile matches Jeren’s. “Explain.”
Immature jerks. I ignore them and turn back to Lana. “A knot is a, um. Well, all male Alphas—” My throat seems to close up, and I cough into my hand as Kyte and Jeren try to keep straight faces. “It’s a—”
Tilda materializes between us, and she takes Lana’s hand. “Omega business.” Her eyes flicker with amusement. “Are you sweating, Commander Ceredes?”
“Hey—” Before I can protest, she fades and takes Lana with her, both of them disappearing and leaving nothing but the acrid scent of Lana’s worry and the spicier scent of Tilda’s mischief.
9
Lana
“Sit, sit!” The silver-eyed girl with the wild black hair shoves me down on a plush bed as she turns toward a dresser and begins digging around in the middle drawers.
“Who—”
“You can wear mine until yours are ready. I’m Tilda. What dorm are you in? They’re numbered one through seven. I’m in three. Are you in three? We have a spare bed in here so that would be perfect. What are your measurements? You’ve got bigger breasts and wider hips—” She turns around and smiles sweetly. “Sorry about that. I’m blunt, especially for a Granterry.” She turns back around and continues digging. “So, I think my fleet pants won’t fit, but my skirt will, and this top will be fine because it’s got plenty of give to it.” She finally turns around and thrusts out a top and a skirt in the same dark gray as everyone here wears.
I take them from her. “Where—”
“Oh.” She claps her hands, the black nails ticking against each other. “We’re in the Omega dorm. I figured you needed a break from those pushy Alphas.” Her tone turns dreamy, but no less quick. “They sure were acting possessive. It’s odd because Ceredes is so standoffish and stiff, Kyte is the ultimate playboy, and Jeren is dark and delicious. They all have their demons, you know? And they certainly don’t associate with each other.” She taps her chin. “At least not until today. So odd. No wonder Ilwen was in such a tizzy. She’s been after Ceredes since she got to the academy, of course.” She takes a breath and seems like she’s about to continue, but then she claps a hand over her mouth.
