$EX EDUCATION WITH 4 HOT STEPBROTHERS

ARIA’s POV

The suitcase handle dug into my palm as I dragged it across the driveway. My arms ached, but I refused to ask for help. Not now. Not when everything felt so wrong.

Aria, hurry up!" Mom called from beside the sleek black car. Her voice had that excited edge I'd been hearing for weeks now.

I gritted my teeth and pulled harder. "I'm coming!"

The driver finally took pity on me and loaded my luggage into the trunk. I slumped into the back seat, staring out the window as we drove away from our small apartment—the only home I'd ever known.

Mom turned around, her eyes sparkling. "Aren't you excited, sweetheart? We're going to live in the Steel villa! Can you imagine?"

No, I can't. And I don't want to.

Even the Steel villa couldn't change the fact that I was just a wolfless Omega. School was already frustrating enough—three years of being invisible, of watching other wolves shift and run while I remained painfully, permanently human.

And lately, my body had been acting strangely. Feverish at night, sheets twisted and damp with sweat. Restless, like something was crawling beneath my skin, demanding to get out. The dreams were the worst part—vivid, searingly hot dreams that left me aching and empty when I woke, my thighs pressed together, trying to ease the unbearable throb between them.

I'd researched it obsessively on my phone at 3 AM: early heat symptoms in late-blooming Omegas. The articles said it could happen, even without a wolf. That my body might be preparing for something my mind wasn't ready to accept.

The timing couldn't be worse. Moving into a house full of Alphas—powerful ones—while my body was doing... this? It felt like walking into a trap my own biology had set.

Sure, Mom," I muttered, pressing my thighs together as another hot flush rolled through me. Not here. Not now.

She reached back and squeezed my hand. "I know this is hard, but Marcus is wonderful. You'll see. And his sons—"

The Steel brothers," I interrupted, my stomach twisting. "Yeah, I know them.

Cole, Reed, Jasper, and Kai Steel. Four Alpha brothers who ruled our school like kings. Popular, powerful, and completely out of my league. I was just an Omega—worse, an Omega without a wolf. Invisible.

And that invisibility had one small mercy: it let me admire from afar without consequence.

Like what I always did on the hockey rink. The sharp scent of ice and sweat, the sound of skates cutting across the frozen surface. To him. Zane Parker, leaning against the boards after practice, his dark hair damp and messy, jersey clinging to his broad shoulders. The way he'd laugh with his teammates, that devastating smile that made something flutter dangerously in my chest.

I'd watched him for two years now. Studied the way he moved on the ice—graceful and brutal all at once. How his intense eyes would focus with laser precision during a game. I'd memorized the curve of his jaw, the way his hands looked gripping his stick.

Pathetic, really. A wolfless Omega pining for a hockey star who didn't know she existed.

But in my feverish dreams lately, those hands gripped something else entirely. And those intense eyes burned into mine with a heat that left me gasping awake, aching and ashamed.

Why would he ever look my way? I'm nobody.

We're here," the driver announced.

I looked up, and my breath caught. The Steel villa was massive—all modern glass and stone, with perfectly manicured gardens stretching in every direction.

It's beautiful, isn't it?" Mom whispered.

It's terrifying.

Marcus Steel stood at the entrance, tall and imposing in his expensive suit. But when he smiled at my mother, his whole face softened.

Welcome home," he said warmly, pulling Mom into his arms.

He turned to me, and I tensed. "Aria, I'm so glad you're here. I hope you'll be happy with us."

Thank you, Mr. Steel," I managed.

Please, call me Marcus." His voice was kind, genuine.

Maybe this won't be so bad.

Then I saw them.

Cole, Reed, and Jasper stood in the doorway, their expressions cold and hostile.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Heat exploded through my body like a match struck in a dark room—sudden, violent, all-consuming. My skin prickled with awareness, every nerve ending suddenly alive and screaming. The scent of them hit me like a physical force: pine and leather, smoke and rain, something wild and masculine that made my knees threaten to buckle.

Oh god. Not now. Please, not now.

My nipples tightened painfully against my bra, and I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hide the traitorous response. Between my legs, a deep, insistent ache bloomed—that same restless, needy feeling from my dreams, but a hundred times stronger. Real. I could feel my pulse throbbing there, could feel myself getting wet, and the shame of it burned almost as hot as the arousal itself.

Four Alphas. All of them staring at me. And my body was reacting like I'd been starved for them my entire life.

I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper, using the pain to ground myself. To think through the haze of want that was rapidly clouding my mind.

Cole, the oldest, looked at me like I was dirt on his shoe. "So this is the Omega who's moving in."

His voice—deep, commanding—sent another shiver down my spine. I hated that my body responded to the authority in it, hated the way my thighs pressed together instinctively.

Cole—" Marcus started, but Reed cut him off.

Let me guess," Reed said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Gold digger, just like her mother?

Reed! That's enough!" Marcus's voice boomed.

But Jasper wasn't done. He walked closer, circling me like a predator. "Look at her. Pathetic. An Omega with no wolf. What did you see in her mother, Dad? The credit cards?"

Each word was a knife, but something else was happening. Heat pooled in my stomach as they stood near me. My skin felt too tight, too hot. My pulse raced for reasons I didn't understand.

What's wrong with me?

I didn't ask for this," I said quietly, my voice shaking. "I didn't want to come here either.

Oh, she speaks," Cole mocked. "How charming.

Boys, go to your rooms. Now." Marcus's command left no room for argument.

They left, but not before Reed turned back one last time. "Stay out of our way, Omega. You're not welcome here."

The door slammed behind them.

Mom rushed to my side. "Aria, honey, I'm so sorry. They'll come around, I promise."

But I barely heard her. My whole body was trembling, confused by the strange arousal I felt around them mixed with the sting of their cruelty.

Why do I feel like this? They hate me.

I went for a shower. I stood under it until my fingers pruned, trying to scrub the feeling of Reed’s eyes off me. It didn’t work.

Wrapped in a towel, my hair dripping dark spots onto the plush carpet, I felt a sliver of calm. Maybe I could just… hide in here. Avoid them.

The door opened.

I froze. Reed stood in the doorway, having clearly not bothered to knock.

He’d changed into grey sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt that strained over his chest.

His eyes locked onto me, and that stormy charge slammed back into the room, ten times stronger.

“What are you doing in here?” I squeaked, clutching the towel tighter at my chest. “Get out.”

He didn’t move. His gaze traveled over me, slow, deliberate—from my damp shoulders, down the curve the towel made over my breasts, to my bare legs. That look wasn’t bored anymore. It was hungry. Predatory. The heat inside me roared in answer, a traitorous throb that made my knees feel weak.

“You just don’t quit, do you?” he said, his voice a low, rough thing. He kicked the door shut behind him. Click. The sound was final.

“I’m not doing anything! I just took a shower! Please, leave.”

“Please,” he mocked, taking a step forward. Then another.

The space between us evaporated. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You stand there, dripping wet, smelling like fucking… ripe peaches and rain… in a towel. In my house. And you want me to believe this isn’t a calculated little omega move?”

His hand shot out, not to hit me, but to grip my waist through the thick terrycloth. His fingers were strong, branding. A jolt of pure, electric sensation shot straight to my core, and a tiny, helpless tremor ran through me. I gasped.

“See?” he whispered, his face inches from mine.

His breath was warm. He smelled incredible. My head swam. “You’re trembling. Your little heart is going crazy. I can smell your arousal from across the hall. It’s sickening. You’re so fucking transparent.”

“Let go of me,” I breathed, but there was no force behind it. My body was leaning into his touch, seeking more of that shocking, delicious heat.

“Disgusting,” he snarled, but his grip tightened, pulling me flush against him. I felt the hard, unmistakable press of his erection against my lower stomach through the thin layers of towel and sweats. A sharp, needy pulse answered between my legs. My mind screamed in protest, but my body arched instinctively.

He looked down at me, his eyes wild, conflicted. There was anger there, and revulsion, but underneath it… a blazing, uncontrollable hunger that mirrored my own. "I can't fucking stand you," he growled, almost to himself. "I can't stand this… this pull."

He shook his head, as if trying to clear it, but his grip on my waist only tightened. His other hand came up, fingers tangling roughly in my wet hair, tilting my head back. It wasn't gentle. It was possessive, claiming, like he had every right to touch me this way.

You're..." He stopped, jaw clenching, the words seeming to strangle him. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and I watched his pupils dilate, black swallowing the color. "Fuck.

The curse was guttural, torn from somewhere deep in his chest. Then his mouth crashed down on mine.

It wasn't a kiss. It was a claiming. An assault. Hard, desperate, angry—like he was punishing me for something I didn't understand. His lips were firm and demanding, bruising, and when his tongue swept past my lips, I couldn't even think to deny him. Didn't want to.

The world narrowed to the taste of him—mint and something wild and male—and the feel of his hard body against my soft, towel-covered one. He groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, primal and raw, and his hands slid down my back with bruising force.

One palm gripped my ass through the towel, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks, pulling me even tighter against the thick ridge of his erection. The other wrapped around my throat—not squeezing, just holding, controlling, reminding me who was in charge.

God, he tastes so fucking good. Wrong. This is so wrong. But I can't—