Semua Bab The Sovereigns' Omega: Bab 1 - Bab 7

Mariah"What the fuck is wrong with this fan?" I mutter, staring up at it like it personally wronged me. The thing's spinning so fast it sounds ready to lift off. Across the room, Sky's still passed out—face mask on, headphones in, dead to the world.Must be nice. I lost my AirPods somewhere between the bus and the dorm, so I'm stuck listening to Helicopter Simulator: Dorm Edition. My phone says it's 6:00 a.m. Between that noise and my nerves, I barely slept.Whatever. I'm up. I'm here. Time to pretend I've got it together.First class of the semester: Dance Theory.I drag myself through my morning routine: brush teeth, splash water on my face, fail to look alive. The mirror isn't kind, but I'm too tired to care. Purple hoodie, black leggings, hair up in a messy bun that looks like it's one inhale from falling apart.My bag's already packed from last night. I still check it twice, like maybe it'll give my hands something to do besides shake.When I finally make it across the courty

MariahBy the time dance practice ends, every muscle in my body aches—the good kind. The kind that means you earned it.Back at the dorm, I shower fast, wrap ice packs around my ankles, and tear open a protein bar for dinner. It tastes like flavored cardboard dusted with vanilla, but it's fuel.From my bed, I watch Sky get ready for the mixer. She hums under her breath—some pop song I half recognize. Her eyeliner's sharp enough to kill. Glitter clings to her collarbone as she slicks pheromone gloss over her lips.Guess she's hoping to catch an alpha's attention tonight. Good for her.Not that I'm judging. It's instinct. The whole campus runs on it.But I've had enough of that kind of attention to last a lifetime."You're really not coming?" she asks, catching my reflection in the mirror."No." The word comes out easy. "Not interested."She smiles, hesitant. "You know, I watched you dance today. You were incredible. My friends thought so too. Maybe you should meet them?"Of course they

MariahHe's here.The beta from Dance Theory. The one whose silence I haven't been able to shake.I guess we share psychology too.He enters silently, but the air shifts anyway—subtle, heavier at the edges. Something about him sharpens everything, making every sound ring clearer, every breath more deliberate.I catch a trace of him—soap, cedar, maybe coffee—but it's less a scent and more a pattern my body registers before my brain catches up.It slides through the room like static after rain, threading the air until it finds me.My nerves buzz the same way they did yesterday.When our eyes meet, it's brief, controlled. He looks away first, careful in the way people are when they don't want to startle something fragile.Maybe that's for the best.I shouldn't want his attention. I've spent months perfecting invisibility.Craving notice never ends well.Still, when he crosses the aisle and drops into the seat beside me, my body forgets that rule. For a heartbeat, everything inside me go