Oxford Heat: A soft and steamy non-shifter omegaverse romance

by Hannah Haze

  "Right," he snaps, labouring off the bed and gathering up his stuff. He doesn't get dressed, instead carries his bundle and his bag out into the hallway and slams the bathroom door behind him.

  She sits there stunned, damp with his saliva and his come, insensitive to the tears that start to slip down her cheeks. The bedroom seems like a war zone and she wonders if this is shell shock, a buzzing building in her ears and her vision blurring.

  The toilet flushes, and his angry footsteps thunder down the hall, the door whacking open. He doesn't even bother to shut it behind him.

  That's it, she thinks, it's over.

  It's for the best. Finals are next term and then the start of a whole new life. Maybe she needs to put this whole mess behind her.

  Her throat constricts, the breath in her lungs painful. She scrunches up her face and concentrates on breathing.

  If it's for the best, why does it feel so wrong?

  Slowly, she becomes aware of wetness on her face. She hardly ever cries and when she does it constantly takes her by surprise. The sensation of tears on her cheeks is alien, yet vaguely familiar, as if there was once a time when she cried a lot. Yet, the sadness, the loneliness, that swallows her up like an unexpected storm cloud, its belly a dark and miserable place, is no shock. It seems fitting.

  She’s used to being alone. It's not new. It's as familiar to her as she assumes love and family are to others. Over the three years she's been here at university, the loneliness has been less acute. She has friends now and belonging; both things she'd been without as a child.

  But even then she's known that the loneliness is still there, hovering in the background. A black cloud full of rain, ready to swoop over and drench her at any moment. The holidays have been the worst, when everyone leaves for home. The heats have helped — given her company — but sometimes she's wondered if it really does, because this isolation when he’s gone is even more acute. Whenever he picks up his bag and walks out the door, her little Omega soul is desolate from the loss.

  Over the next few days she has study and revision to fill her time. Yet it’s not enough to distract her or to prevent the cloud of loneliness from sweeping in and releasing its misery on her head.

  Her skin is always soaked through, her very soul drenched. Occasionally she has the strength to pull herself up off the floor and dry herself, but it doesn't last long before the rain comes tumbling down again. She tries to focus — focus, focus. To block out everything else, but it is so difficult.

  It shouldn't be this difficult, should it? It was just a fling, a casual thing. As meaningless and brief as any other passing cloud.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  The air is thick and humid. Heavy in his chest, suffocating in his mouth, drowning his tongue. The inside of his throat stings so badly, tears form in his eyes. He swipes his fingers and thumb across his face, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

  The pain in his head intensifies, a pressure that might break through his skull. He swerves into an alleyway and hunches over as his body hauls two powerful retches from his belly, and he spits onto the ground.

  He revolts her. He’s seen it in her eyes so often. He’d tried to pretend it wasn’t there. But occasionally he’d spy the flashes of it. He makes her sick. He makes himself sick. He should be here huddling in the shadows puking his guts out.

  A sob breaks free from his lips and he leans into the wall. How had he allowed himself to believe otherwise? To fool himself into thinking she cared?

  Because she had, hadn’t she? He’d seen the glimpses of that too. Not just a sexual attraction or a lust, but something deeper and more solid. Something that he holds reflected in himself.

  Now he knows that he must have been deceived. How could someone like Cora care for someone like him?

  Someone so good could not like someone so bad. And that’s the nub of it. She’s like everyone else. After everything, she still views him as the monster they all say he is. He scares her. He is too big, too clumsy, he doesn't fit anywhere.

  Now he has made the mistake of letting her penetrate into the very heart of him, and he will be haunted by the little beams of happiness they've shared. And every time they pop unbidden into his mind he'll have to relive the pain all over again.

  They come rushing into his head now, a torrent of water through a crack.

  Cora slipping her small hand into his.

  Cora laughing so hard she clutches her stomach when he said something funny.

  Cora with her sweet lips wrapped around his cock, her eyes closed in pleasure.

  The colour of her eyes, the softness of her skin, the pressure of her weight, the sound of her moans: they run through his mind, taunting him, and he heaves a third time.

  People pass the end of the alley, oblivious to him. He stays there, allowing himself this moment of grief, hoping that he can vomit her out of his system, and then he wipes his face on his sleeve and heads home.

  After a shower, he throws his belongings into a bag and cycles to the train station, locking up his bike, and catching a train to London. He has no idea if his parent's will be home — he hasn't spoken to them for weeks, but he doesn't care. He wants to be far away from the university.

  The house his parents own stands in an exclusive central London square, where the tall, white townhouses ring a neatly kept enclosure of grass, encircled by metal railings that get locked at night. Many of the four-storey houses have been divided up into flats or office space; there's a think tank, several law firms, and a private doctor’s clinic. His parents’ house is one of the few that retains all its floors for one house. Even the basement belongs to them — converted into a space for Noah that he can access down a set of steps from the street.

  Ideally, he'd like to head straight down there and go to bed. It's only mid afternoon, but he’s battered and drained — like it wasn’t Cora's words that hurt him but her fists. He can almost imagine that she beat them against his chest. It feels bruised. But he should say hi, so he climbs the two wide steps and opens the polished door. The alarm isn't on, so he dumps his bag in the hallway by the coat stand and goes to find out who is home. It's unlikely to be his mother at this hour; it is probably the cleaner or the chef that comes a couple of times a week.

  The large sitting room with its plush cream carpet and expensive art work is empty and so is the study and the TV room. The dining room is only ever used for dinner parties and Christmas day, so he heads to the rear of the house to the extended part where the kitchen is situated. It runs the whole width of the building and the cleaner is needed to keep its polished marble surfaces glistening.

  He finds his dad hovering at the breakfast bar, hunched over his laptop. He's got his earphones on and his back to the door so he doesn't see Noah until he taps him on the shoulder.

  The older man glances up and beams. He's tall like Noah, though not as broad. As a young man he was a long-distance runner and he retains the willowy frame. His hair is cropped close to his head, but Noah sees that he's greyer than when they last met, almost white around the ears. He has the same face as Noah's older brother but his dad’s is lined. His dad smiles a lot, especially for an Alpha. He is quietly relaxed in himself, self assured, confident and easy going — qualities Noah has not inherited.

  "Ah, Noah boy," he twists on his stall and slaps Noah on the back. "I didn't know we were expecting you."

  Noah sits on the chair next to him. "It was a last minute decision. I decided I'd get more revision done here."

  His dad pats him on the shoulder again. "Wonderful to have you home, son." He grins and his nostrils flair. His father cocks his head to one side. "Hmmm, same girl, huh? Must be getting serious."

  Noah shakes his head. "Nah, it's not."

  "Good thing too," his dad laughs. "Bit young to become tied down just yet. You've got to have your fun while you can. Plenty of Omegas out there, and these days you can help them out without any ramifications. God, to have had it th
at way in my youth. The suppressants and birth control weren't as effective. Lots of unwanted pregnancies."

  A heat runs through Noah’s body and he can’t look at his dad. Instead, he lets his eyes wander about the kitchen, waiting for the emotion to pass.

  "Women, especially Omegas, are pretty exhausting in my experience," Noah says.

  "I bet they are."

  They've had this conversation many times since Noah had his first rut. His dad seems to want to live his own missed opportunities through him.

  Noah smiles weakly, wanting to change the subject but unsure how.

  If his dad assumes it would be so great to sleep around, he wonders why he never has. Well, he's pretty sure he hasn't. The whole scent thing makes it virtually impossible to get away with an affair when you're an Alpha or an Omega.

  "Where's Mum?"

  "The office. She's out tonight though — won't be home until late."

  "What you working on?"

  "I'm not. I submitted my column already. I'm trying to clear some emails."

  His dad is a commentator for the Times but the truth is he doesn't need to work — his mum and his dad both come from wealth.

  "I'd better go dump my stuff in my room." Noah says after a pause.

  "God, yes. You know your mum throws a fit if she finds your stuff scattered about."

  It's why they moved him to the basement; his mother can't stand his scent all over the rest of the house.

  The self-contained flat in the basement is much as he left it. The cleaner has obviously been in there a few times, everything is cleaned and the pile of clothes he dropped on the floor has been laundered and folded on his bed.

  The retro record player he bought himself sits untouched in the corner with his records stacked alongside, next to a 1970s vintage leather recliner, a pair of headphones hung over the arm. They were too precious to take to university. He'd taken his smart speakers and TV instead.

  On the walls are pinned posters that he's outgrown: a few topless girls, his rugby team and some of his favourite bands. He's brought a few girls back over the years. He examines the room and cringes. What was he thinking?

  There's a small shower room and toilet down here as well as a kitchenette. But the fridge has been unplugged along with the microwave and there's nothing to eat.

  He's starving. Post-rut he always is, and he hasn’t eaten since Cora's. His stomach growls angrily, but he ignores it and the gnawing inside and lies out flat on the ground, allowing his body to sink against the cold wooden floorboards. Her smell lingers on his skin, no wonder his dad could smell it. He'd scrubbed himself raw in the shower earlier, enjoying the fierce scrape of the flannel and the sting of the soap. But it wasn't enough. She's still there. It's some cruel torture. He closes his eyes and tries not to think of her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  "Step away from the laptop!" Zach says, flinging open her bedroom door dramatically.

  Cora lifts her hands above her head and stretches.

  "Hi Zach. When did you get back to Oxford?"

  "Last night." He still has a bandage wrapped around his hand, but it’s a lot smaller than it was. "Come on, like I said, step away from that desk. I’m kidnapping you for the day."

  "To do what?"

  "Hang out with me and Rose." Rose appears behind him, her bag slung over her shoulder. She returned from her trip a couple of days ago too.

  "Zach, I can’t! It’s only twenty-one days until my first exam."

  "When was the last time you took a break?"

  "I take a break every day to sleep."

  "Apart from ‘to sleep’?"

  She crosses her arms across her chest and glares at him. There’s no time for breaks. She starts revising as soon as she wakes in the morning and doesn’t stop until bedtime. Finals start at the beginning of the summer term. The six exams she has to sit will determine whether she passes or fails her degree. She's drafted herself a timetable and made a list of everything she needs to re-read and all the arguments she should commit to memory. There is no room to screw up; a degree will give her the security she needs.

  "Oh come on Cora, just for a few hours," Rose says, stepping inside her room and coming to take her hand. "It’s a beautiful day out there and it will do you good."

  "I’m not leaving until you agree, so if you want to get back to studying you may as well concede quickly."

  "Fine, fine," Cora says, letting Rose drag her to her feet. She grabs her phone, her keys and her debit card and follows them out of the flat. "So what we doing?"

  "We could go to the Crown. It’s got a nice garden?"

  "I’m not drinking," Cora says.

  Zach rolls his eyes. "Okay, Saint Cora."

  "How about punting?" Rose says as they stroll along the busy pavement. "I’ve nearly finished my time here and I’ve never actually been punting."

  "How is that possible?" Zach asks.

  Rose shrugs. "I don’t know."

  "Right, let’s do that then."

  "It’ll be packed on the river today," Cora grumbles. It’s a sunny May day, the sky a bright blue, not a cloud in sight and the trees full to bursting with blossom.

  Rose and Zach ignore her and they weave down the side streets and out to Magdalen Bridge, joining the end of the queue for people waiting to hire a punt.

  "Isn’t hiring a punt expensive?" Cora says, chewing her nail.

  "Matt from college works here — look." Zach points him out, a tall scrawny boy with a thick mop of blonde hair. "I hear he’ll give us a discount."

  The line moves quickly and soon they reach the river edge. Zach slaps Matt’s hand, and he helps them into the flat-bottomed boat with its squared ends.

  "You know how to do this?" Matt asks.

  "Yes," Zach and Cora say together.

  "I have to give you life jackets, but nobody ever wears them. You can shove them under the seats." He passes them the three orange vests and then gives Zach the long quant pole. "You have an hour."

  Cora takes a seat next to Rose as Zach pushes away from the bank and down the river, striking out straight into a backlog of other punters on the water. His steering is hazardous and twice they bump into other boats, the punt rocking madly and Rose yelping.

  "Let me do it." Cora stands and stretches out her hands.

  "Happily," says Zach, peering at the side of the punt. "I don’t want to lose my deposit and it’s hurting my hand."

  Carefully, Cora makes her way to the stern of the punt and takes the pole from Zach, and he stumbles into the seat. The boat rocks again and Rose clamps her eyes shut.

  "Right," Cora says, plunging the pole down into the water till the end hits the sticky bottom of the river. Using her weight, she pushes off, driving the boat forward, then lifts the pole, so it trails in the water behind them and uses it as a rudder, guiding their boat through the maze of novice punters and along the river.

  Trees, dense with fresh leaves, line the banks, their branches creeping across the river, creating a canopy of foliage and turning the water a murky green. Sunshine seeps through the gaps and the water is dappled in patches of shadow and light. They glide over the surface of the water, faint ripples following in their wake.

  For a moment they are quiet, happy to bob along, soaking up the view and watching the people they float by.

  "I wish we had snacks," Cora says, gazing across to a punt parked up by the bank; the four tourists inside sharing punnets of strawberries and passing around a bottle of champagne.

  "I have some Reese’s cups my mom brought me from home." Rose rummages in her bag.

  Cora sticks out her tongue. "No thanks."

  "I’ll have some." Zach says. He pops one in his mouth and says, with his mouth full, "So what’s everyone’s news?"

  "News? I’ve been studying non-stop," Cora scoffs. "All I’ve been thinking about is goddamn philosophy and politics." Well, that and Noah. At night she's exhausted, yet she lies on her back staring at the ceiling, trying not to think of him, tr
ying not to feel regret. She shakes those thoughts away now. "I’ve even started dreaming about it. Last night I dreamt I was dating the Prime Minister."

  "How about you, Rose?"

  Rose chews rapidly. "I can show you more of my holiday photos."

  "Err, no thanks." He dips his hand in the water. "Oh, wait. I have some gossip." He looks up at them both. "Remember that girl who sent those dodgy photos to all the dudes on the University rugby team? She’s done it again. Only this time it was her tutor."

  "Oh my God!" Rose shrieks.

  Cora stares at him, her skin suddenly cold. "Wait, what? She sent those photos to everyone on the team?"

  Zach grins. "Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, it was about four or five of them."

  Her arms drop by her sides and she nearly loses the pole into the water.

  "Careful," Rose calls out.

  Cora rubs her temple. "But I thought she sent the photo to only Noah, and he passed it on."

  "No, she sent them to a whole load of dudes at once. I think her name is Sarah. There’s obviously something a bit wrong with her," Zach says.

  She thought that the girl, Sarah, and Noah had been dating. She thought he’d passed around the photos. Wasn’t that the story? But he’d said he’d never dated an Omega, hadn’t he? And now she considers it, she’s never smelled his scent mixed with another woman’s. In the early days of their arrangement, she’d just assumed he was sleeping with other people. But she’s only ever smelt his scent, his strong woody scent, his scent alone.

  She sits down hard, her legs like jelly.

  "You alright, Cora?" Rose asks.

  "Y-yes," she stutters, "Just taking a break."

  "Have you been into college yet?" Rose says, unwrapping another chocolate.

  Cora shakes her head and Zach says, "Not yet."

  "There’s something going on." Rose scrapes the chocolate from the surface of the Reese’s cup with her teeth. "The mood was, I don’t know, weird. Sombre even."

  "What do you mean?" Zach wipes his wet hands on his jeans.

  "The second years are all here early. They were hovering around in groups, whispering and hugging each other. Some were sobbing."