Excerpt from FATED MATING: THREE OMEGAVERSE M/M SHORTS

An Education

Tristan grinned to himself as he closed his notebook and began tucking his books, ink, and pens into his bookbag.

“Head of the class again today, Mr. Clark,” Professor Aldwin said, smiling and leaning his hip against Tristan’s desk. “I hope your family knows how well you’re doing here.” Even with a crooked cravat and chalk dusting his burgundy waistcoat, the Alpha radiated calm competence. He was an eager, encouraging first-year professor, one of the few professors who had treated Tristan as an equal of the Alpha students from the first day of classes.

In his fourth year of college now, Tristan was used to having to prove himself, but his Anatomy professor had simply asked his name and moved on to the next student. It made Tristan even bolder, all the more ready to call out the answers to the questions Professor Aldwin asked. Each time Tristan raised his hand, the chestnut-haired Alpha smiled.

“I make sure they know, sir,” Tristan said. “My parents don’t like my being here any better than they ever did, but they can’t say I haven’t done my best with the chance my grandfather gave me.”

Professor Aldwin’s smile twitched. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to have a doctor in the family once you have your license. You’re still thinking of starting at the medical school here in the fall?”

“I am.” Tristan raised his chin, automatically bristling for the arguments that followed from other people who heard his plans, but the Alpha’s bright blue eyes were only interested, not mocking. Professor Aldwin reacted the same way when Tristan visited his office hours—always interested and courteous. If anything, Tristan’s answer today on medical school seemed to please him. The Alpha’s smile widened, and he breathed out a contented, relaxed sigh.

“There’ve only been five Omegan doctors to graduate from here before now. But I’m glad to help you be the sixth. Always let me know if you ever need anything.”

And the amazing truth was that the professor meant it. When Tristan had casually described the challenges of handling the Alpha musk in the laboratory, Professor Aldwin had given him scent reductors and told him where to buy more. When Professor Aldwin had learned that Tristan wasn’t allowed to touch the cadavers in the morgue because Professor Williams thought it would taint his womb, Professor Aldwin had intervened. Three days later, Tristan had examined a leg bone with the rest of his class. Professor Aldwin didn’t believe in favoritism, he’d explained at Tristan’s next office visit, but he insisted on fairness. He had an Omegan brother studying law, and couldn’t stand the thought of his brother barred from part of the library simply for being Omegan.

And if their office visits were a bit more frequent than strictly necessary for Tristan’s questions, Tristan kept that fact to himself. The professor didn’t seem to mind if he lingered, or if anatomy questions strayed into talk about Tristan’s other classes, or Professor Aldwin’s study of blood, or the events in the newspaper, or the city’s excitement over the coming rail line. Far from hurrying him away, Professor Aldwin always offered him tea, along with rolls or biscuits or even a pastry from the local bakery.

Now Professor Aldwin’s smile tugged at something in Tristan’s chest, and he felt himself beginning to flush. He couldn’t stop staring lately at the Alpha’s warm blue eyes. And his scent…it was a warm leather and wine scent that always reminded Tristan of his family’s library. He breathed it in, then coughed, catching himself. The man was simply being kind. Tristan couldn’t let himself moon over the professor like a typical clinging Omega. His medical career would be over before it began.

He shouldered his bag and reached to shake the professor’s hand, just as an Alpha student would.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

Rather than return to his drafty, noisy boarding house, Tristan walked across the green to the college’s library, then up the staircase there to the study rooms. Pleased to find an empty room behind the third door he tried, he settled himself at the desk and began reading his latest Latin assignment. After a few minutes, he found himself starting to sweat in the warm confines of the room, enough that he took off his coat and read in his shirtsleeves, grateful for the lower, looser collar that had come into fashion for Omegas. He wondered at the change in weather. This morning, he’d been sure the day would be cold for being halfway through the spring.

It was scarcely an hour later that Tristan felt a cramp in his stomach, and then a bead of moisture between his legs. He puzzled for a moment at the sensations, and then trembled as realization and dread settled in his mind. The warmth through his body had nothing to do with the temperature. He was having his first heat.

Tristan swore to himself as he unfastened two buttons on his shirt, and then belatedly doubted his buttoning choice. He should be buttoning up. Hiding himself in his rooms. Hiding himself somewhere no Alpha would scent him.

He reached for his discarded coat, planning to do just that, but a sudden, burning flush through his body made him double over, gasping. A trickle of more slick between his legs joined the first drop in his drawers.

Tristan had dreaded this. He’d known it would happen at some point, with his twenty-second birthday just a few months away. Most Omegas had their first heat between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two. He’d been lucky until now, but luck couldn’t last forever.

 Tristan’s mind raced. First heats hit fast, and his felt brutal. He needed to run, and try to reach his rooms at the boarding house before things got too much worse. Before the scent of an Omega in heat drew too much attention. He knew what happened to Omegas caught out in public during their cycle. He couldn’t stay here—he needed to run and hope for the best. He swiped sweat from his face and straightened, trying and failing to refasten his shirt buttons.

Another flush hit him, coupled with a cramp in his gut. He grasped the desk hard to stay on his feet.

The door of the study room swung open. Tristan closed his eyes and ducked his head, shame flaming his cheeks.

“Ah. I thought so,” said a man from the doorway.

Alpha scent flooded Tristan’s nose. He felt his inner muscles automatically tighten in response.

“Are you…do you need help? Should I send for someone?” the Alpha offered. His voice was familiar, but Tristan refused to open his eyes to look at him.

“No, I…” Tristan panted his way through another wave of heat flush. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

“Not even a friend?”

The lovely layer of leather in the Alpha’s scent was so distracting. Tristan groaned and shook his head. “No. I…mmm…just need to get myself back to my rooms. I live on Birch Street.”

“You’re not going to make it to Birch Street like that.”

There was a long pause, and then the Tristan heard the door close. A lock clicked.

“There’s another way I can help you,” the Alpha offered, a velvet huskiness now to his voice. The notes of wine in his scent grew stronger.