In Doubt, page 7
“And pulling together, working together, to defeat the enemy.”
“Hmmm,” he says, his gaze flicking over my face.
There he goes again dismissing my opinion.
“You alphas, you think everything is about competition, and beating the other guy. Being on top and screwing everyone else.” My frustration with our dismissal leaks into my words.
“There you go again with your damn opinions on alphas. I live in a pack, Giorgie. I literally compromise and cooperate every day. I’m in the fucking rugby team. That’s all about working as a team.”
“And competing for your spot on the team,” I insist, although I’m a little less sure of my argument.
“And what have you been doing this whole year? Competing against me for the spot on Weaver’s team!” He huffs through his nose, and picks up his pace, ducking inside the tent, and slumping down on a chair.
I stand, frozen watching him go. He’s right. We’ve been competing – of course we have. Yet working together back there in the trench, removing the dust and uncovering the artefact together, had felt a million times better.
It isn’t in my nature to compete, not really, and maybe this setup has been pulling me all out of shape.
“They could have given us another section to work on,” he grumbles as I duck under the flaps of the tent.
“I could see if Sia and Carl would let us work on their site.”
“It’s not big enough,” he sulks.
I drop down into a chair a couple away from his, not wanting to sit too close. He looks at his watch. “Lunch isn’t for another hour. Then they’ll be packing us off for the afternoon when it’s too hot to work.”
“I’d happily work through the heat if it meant I could keep digging.”
“It’s not healthy for an omega,” he says off hand, then his eyes widen in horror. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”
I lift my hand to dismiss his concern. After that incident earlier, he obviously thinks I’m super sensitive or something. Maybe I am, but I don’t want him to think that. Omegas have a reputation for being vulnerable and pathetic. I don’t want him to think of me like that. “It’s not going to be an option anyway.”
“Yeah.”
He sighs, leaning back in his chair, swinging on the back legs and hooking his arms behind his head. The fabric of his t-shirt stretches taut as he does, the muscles across his chest becoming clearer and the ones in his upper arms bulging and the hem of his shirt lifts flashing a strip of toned abdomen.
I flick my gaze away, heat crawling over my skin. Tucking my hands under my knees, I swing my legs and chew the inside of my cheek.
Well, this is super awkward. Stuck with Jake Grantham for the next hour with nothing to do.
There is something you could do, that sneaky omega voice pipes up. God!
I peer out at the bright sunshine. I could go and watch the others at work but I don’t really fancy that. I’d end up feeling jealous.
“You know what,” Jake says, tugging his phone out of his pocket, “I might just skedaddle. I was taking my pack on a trip out to the Rulox temple this afternoon anyway. Maybe I’ll just get them to meet me there earlier.”
“The Rulox temple?” It’s a temple to Isis, the Goddess of Omegas. A temple I’ve read lots about. Much to my disappointment, the temple isn’t considered important enough to make it onto our tour of the tourist sites. Carl and I had spoken about possibly going together in our free time, but I don’t think he was serious. It isn’t like he’s interested in the life of omegas during the period. Not like me. “You’re going to see Isis’ temple? The omega temple?”
“Yeah, I have a few theories about the place. I want to see it for myself.”
“I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
“I’m writing my final paper on alpha and omega dynamics in the New Kingdom.”
I gape at him. Of course he is. A mixture of emotions swim through my veins – trepidation, admiration, curiosity.
“Me too,” I tell him, swallowing.
“I know.”
“Wh-what?”
“I’ve read some of your papers.”
“You have? Why?” I lean forward. “Are you hoping to steal my ideas?” I say half in jest, half deadly serious.
“I have my own, thanks.” He rocks on his chair, eyes locked on his screen. “I was interested.”
“Oh.” My cheeks warm and I feel strangely ashamed I never read any of his. Partly I was too scared. What if they were better than mine?
Jake jabs at his phone. “You’re welcome to come to the temple,” he says in a tone that makes me think I’m not.
I stare out at the bright sunshine again, watching several people hustle past with sacks of earth.
The Rulox temple. The temple dedicated to Isis. Built for omegas.
I want to see it so desperately. To test my ideas. To plant my feet inside a temple, a temple omegas like me once worshipped inside. My skin itches to go. This is what I’m here for after all. This is my chance.
But spending an afternoon with Jake and his pack? Alone? Didn’t I experience some kind of panic attack only an hour ago? Isn’t his stupid scent doing stupid things to my body? It hardly seems sensible.
Jake clambers to his feet, reading the screen of his phone.
“Yeah, they’re going to meet me there. I’m going to see if one of those guys out there will give me a ride.” He points to a group of men, sheltering in the shade of the coaches, smoking cigarettes.
“I’ll come,” I say, the words popping out of my mouth before I can stop them.
He swings his head in my direction, genuine surprise scrawled all over his face.
“You wanna come?” he asks with scepticism. I’ve never willingly volunteered to spend time with Jake before.
“Yes,” I squeak, lifting my chin. I can’t let a chance like this slip through my fingers. Today has already been a disappointment, watching as the senior researchers have taken our find from us. Maybe it isn’t too late to salvage something. Ok, so it means spending more time with Jake, Jake and his pack, but I can handle that. The incident in the trench was just a silly mishap – the culmination of too much time in a cramped space, hot, dusty and smelly. “I’d really love to see the Rulox temple. In fact, it’s the thing I want to see most.”
I spring up. He swallows.
“Right.” He straightens his shoulders as if bolstering himself for battle and strolls out towards the men, me trotting behind him.
He spends the next fifteen minutes haggling until he finally comes to an agreement on price and then an older man walks us over to a Land Rover covered in dust and grime.
“Do you think he can even see out the windscreen?” I mumble.
“It’ll be an adventure,” he says. Jumping up into the open back and once again holding out his hand to me. For such a jerk, the guy does have some manners.
I wave his hand away, quite capable of climbing into the cab myself, and sitting on the bench opposite him.
It takes our driver a few attempts to start the vehicle and I throw Jake another sceptical look, but then we’re off, bouncing over the sand. The wind tugs at my hat and I grab at it, holding it tight to my head. The air continues to lash at it though and eventually I give up and clutch the hat to my chest. Jake does the same. And for a minute we grin at each other like idiots. Then he whips his gaze away and I content myself with watching the shades of the dunes shift as we travel along.
By the time we catch our first glimpse of the temple on the horizon, my body and my head ache from being jostled around so much in the vehicle. All that’s forgotten though, as the shape of it comes into focus, golden and magnificent, even ringed by a cluster of ugly, modern buildings.
“I don’t think I could ever get tired of looking at sites like this,” I say more to myself than Jake.
“Me neither. This is the best fucking job in the world.”
If we get one, I think. And only one of us will land that spot on the professor’s team. The other … It’ll mean leaving Studworth and trying to find a role somewhere else.
“Do your packmates actually care much about history?” As far as I can tell they are a bunch of what the Americans would call jocks. They’re all studying for Masters like Jake, but it’s clear it’s a ruse to stay for the team. “And shouldn’t they be training or something?” I know I’m sounding bitchy, but as we draw closer and the temple begins to leer over us, I’m nervous.
Alone with a whole pack.
You’re OK, I tell myself, tapping my fingers against my thigh. You can do this.
Jake seems not to notice, too entranced by the temple. “Season ended a few weeks ago. We’re encouraged to take a holiday before training starts again.”
“When’s that?” I ask.
“End of July.”
“Sounds exhausting, studying and training and playing and stuff.” He often rocks up to our classes in his sports gear, clearly on his way to or from a match.
I remember that game again.
All that alpha aggression, the fierce mix of scents, sweat running down muscular frames, had set a fire burning in my belly, forcing me to rub my thighs together. And then there’d been one scent in particular searing through the air to my nostrils.
“Nah, when it’s something you love, it’s energising, not exhausting.”
He laughs and, like his smile did earlier, it has my stomach spinning.
What on earth? Perhaps this excursion wasn’t a good idea after all.
8
Levi
We’re waiting outside the Rulox temple as instructed, tickets already purchased.
Jake said he’d be here half an hour ago. He’s late. It’s kind of standard for Jake. The alpha usually completes ten extra sets of pushups every training session as punishment for his tardiness. We’re not overly concerned.
Aiden checks his phone.
“No message, but the reception here is pretty whack.” He lifts his phone above his head, rotating it left and right while examining the screen. I scan the warren of streets with their tall, narrow shops and shaded pathways that surround the temple instead, watching for Jake.
Finally, I spot his head of golden hair rounding the corner.
“Took your time, mate,” I call out, patting Aiden on the shoulder. Then I spot the little piece of ass trotting along by his side. And not just any piece of ass. I turn to look at Aiden, his eyes land on me, then swing back to Jake, before flipping to mine again. His mouth drops open.
Giorgie?
You cannot be serious? What in the hell is she doing here? With Jake?
I jump down from the wall and stalk towards them, unable to help from grinning. I don’t know what’s going on here but it’s going to make for a fun afternoon.
Giorgie Martinelli is beautiful. Stunningly so. The kind of girl who has men turning their heads to watch her walk by, exactly what every man on the street is doing now, much to Jake’s obvious discomfort. The dude’s throwing the stink eye out left and right.
Of course, she’s beautiful. No omega could smell as good as her and not be. And while I may not find that scent as all-consuming as Jakey-boy does, it’s still fucking irresistible to me.
I barge past a few tourists milling at the temple entrance and stop in front of Jake and Giorgie.
“Hey Giorgie. Decided to tag along?” I ask, examining both their faces and trying to work out what’s going on here. Jake raises an eyebrow warning me not to interfere. I can smell his scent on her, and hers on him – not strong enough to suggest anything has happened between them – yet something has obviously occurred. Usually you couldn’t get the two of them within twenty feet of one another. For good reason. Giorgie is a brat. A brat who hates my packmate. She makes him suffer day in and day out with her bloody unblockered scent.
She hangs back a little, twisting her hat in her hands.
“I’m writing a paper about this temple. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she whispers with a serious lack of brattiness.
I cock my eyebrow straight back at Jake, as if asking him who the hell this girl is and what happened to Giorgie Martinelli.
“Sounds like you’re an expert then.” That little compliment has her smiling at me in a way that makes my skin tingle. “I think you’d better give us a guided tour.” I offer her Jake’s entrance ticket and then signal for her to lead the way. She takes it from my hand as if it’s a treasured artefact and not some measly piece of paper, examining the print as she heads for the man checking tickets.
“Grantham,” I say to Jake over my shoulder, giving him a wink, “you’re gonna need to buy yourself a ticket.”
“Oh,” Giorgie says, peering between us with pink cheeks as the man stamps her ticket. “Did I take Jake’s?” She starts to scramble around in her purse.
“Don’t worry,” I say, ushering her through and handing my own ticket over. “He’ll catch us up.” Aiden and Dylan look between me, Jake’s face of thunder and then Giorgie. With half-hearted shrugs aimed at Jake, they follow Giorgie and me through the entrance. We step down into a sand coloured courtyard sunk low into the ground, wide circular columns line its edges and tower above our heads, and on the far side stands the main temple itself, rhombus in shape, gigantic carvings scribed into its walls and huge rectangle entrances waiting in darkness.
Giorgie practically squeals beside me (sending my hindbrain places it shouldn’t go) her hands rising to cover her mouth as she bounces on her toes.
“Is it how you expected?” Dylan asks and I note he’s playing up the melodic tones of his Welsh accent. I can’t blame him. A squealing omega in our midst who smells this damn good? What alpha wouldn’t be turning up the charm?
“Better,” she gasps, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight. “It’s so much bigger than I imagined, and the carvings of Isis? They look almost like they might come to life and step right out in front of us.” She scrambles in her bag and pulls out her phone, lifting it and then dropping her arms back down. “There’s no point, is there? I’ll never be able to capture the majesty of it.”
“Not on your phone, no,” Dylan tells her. “You didn’t bring a camera?”
She shakes her head with a hint of disappointment.
“Don’t worry, I’ll treat you to a print from the souvenir shop on the way out,” I say. She doesn’t hear me though, she’s stepping into the courtyard with awe written all over her face. And for the craziest, stupidest of minutes, I have a strange desire to have her look at me in that way.
That’s what omegas can do to you, if you don’t keep your head screwed on straight. Whip away your senses and before you know it they’re making demands on you to give up your pack.
I run my hand through my hair and follow in her footsteps.
“So what can you tell us about this place?” I ask Giorgie, my gaze on her face and not the temple.
“It’s a temple dedicated to the Goddess Isis,” Jake says from behind me.
“Did you write a paper on this temple?” I ask him, not taking my eyes off Giorgie.
“No,” he grumps. Giorgie smothers a smile before launching into an excitable history of the place, hardly drawing breath as she walks towards the temple interior, the light shifting from bright to dark as we walk through the shadows cast by the pillars.
Her enthusiasm is infectious. Even Jake is captivated and keeping his mouth shut for once, even if I assume he knows all this stuff already. I’m not a history nerd by any stretch of the imagination, but I have to admit this place is special. Or perhaps that’s the influence of the omega’s intoxicating scent.
It’s sweet. Crackling on the end of my tongue and tickling every nerve in my nostrils. It’s like it’s alive, curling through the air and entwining me in its gasp. Heating my blood like a warm embrace. Relaxing and calming all that usual energy that buzzes through my body.
No wonder Jake’s been busting a gut every time he’s in a class with her.
This scent would have me chasing Giorgie all over campus. Just for a hit of it.
Inside, the temple is cool and dark and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the light. Then I see the inscription on the walls. In some places it has worn away completely, in others it’s as deep and intricate looking as the day it was carved. We pause by some of the drawings, Giorgie explaining their meaning and then we wander deeper inside. Here some of the original paint work remains, the colours muted by time, yet the vividness of the shades are still obvious.
“I never met someone who loved this shit as much as Jake,” Aiden says as a particular carving captures her attention and her words wither away.
“I guess it’s one thing we have in common,” she says absentmindedly.
I look between the two of them. I’d say those two have quite a bit in common. After all, Jake can be a giant brat when he wants to be too.
My packmate comes to join her, bending over to examine what she’s found and the two of them whisper to and fro in excited tones.
I motion with my head to the others and we walk back out into the courtyard finding a step in the shade to sit on.
“Is that the same omega from the airport?” I say to the others.
“She certainly seems a lot less pissy than she did,” Dylan says, stretching out his long legs.
“And even more fucking potent,” Aiden mutters.
“You think she’s really as bad as Jake’s been making her out to be all this time?”
Aiden shrugs. “According to him they fight all the time.”
“Unresolved sexual tension,” Dylan says.
“Since when has sexual tension ever been unresolved between an alpha and omega. We’re not like that. We’re made for the rutting and the knotting.” I huff out a puff of air, realising my own body is taut with sexual tension, watching as Giorgie steps back into the courtyard and she fiddles with the neck of her blouse.
