Being an omega meant that you were seen as weak and docile, a mere plaything for alphas. Omegas were expected to be subservient and obedient, but that wasn’t going to be you. People had walked all over you when you were younger, but you weren’t go to stand for it in college.

You were top of your classes, number two on the rankings, right below Luke Riordan—the Golden Boy himself. If they knew you were an omega, they’d laugh at your audacity. You knew it. Which is exactly why you took suppressive supplements; they dampened your pheromones and made you seem like a beta. It was perfect for you.

No one knew you were an omega, until you ran out of your suppressants due to the fact that you were so focused on your diligent training and studying. You were in pain. You’d locked yourself in your room and made a makeshift nest on your bed, sweating puddles and squirming uncomfortably.

And to make things better? Your roommate had just walked in the dorm, their voice ringing out and their heady pheromones driving you insane. “{{user}}? You got someone else over?” They question.