So why does the suggestion make my pulse quicken and my mind fill with images of Miles’s scent lingering on sheets I’d be writhing in while my heat consumes me?
“That’s not necessary,” I say, my voice embarrassingly husky. “My room is fine.”
“It’s no trouble,” Miles insists, his expression giving nothing away. “Unless you’d prefer not to have my scent in your space. In which case, we could request fresh linens.”
He’s offering me an out, recognizing the potential complication his Alpha scent might create during my heat. The consideration only makes the flutter in my stomach intensify.
“Fresh linens would be prudent,” I manage.
“I’ll arrange it,” Adrian says immediately, clearly relieved to have a concrete problem he can solve.
I return to the tablet, making more adjustments to Adrian’s schedule while trying to ignore the weight of their collective attention. It should be uncomfortable, being the focus of so much Alpha concern. Instead, it feels oddly secure. Like being surrounded by a storm wall rather than threatened by predators.
“There,” I say finally, passing the tablet back to Adrian. “A more reasonable approach, I think.”
He scrolls through my changes, lips pursed in that way he gets when someone edits his work. But he doesn’t argue, just nods once. “This will work. We’ll implement immediately.”
“Implement,” Caleb repeats with a snort. “Listen to yourself, man. This isn’t a product rollout.”
“Structure provides comfort in uncertain situations,” Adrian counters stiffly.
To my surprise, Miles nods in agreement. “He’s not wrong. Clear expectations reduce anxiety.”
Caleb throws up his hands. “Fine, you two can color-code your way through this. I’ll be the one maintaining some fucking humanity in this robot care protocol.”
The strangest thing happens then. Instead of Adrian bristling at Caleb’s criticism, he actually nods. “That’s why you’re primary on the emotional support blocks. Your approach complements our structure.”
I stare at him, momentarily speechless. Adrian Cole, acknowledging that Caleb Rios’s chaotic energy might actually be valuable? The world has truly turned upside down.
“Did you just compliment me?” Caleb asks, looking as stunned as I feel.
“I acknowledged your comparative advantage in a specific context,” Adrian clarifies, but there’s something almost like humor in his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, surprising all of us. It’s not my professional laugh—the polite one I use in meetings when executives make terrible jokes.
It’s real and slightly unhinged, fueled by the absurdity of this entire situation.
“What’s funny?” Adrian asks, looking mildly concerned.
“All of this,” I manage between laughs that border on hysterical. “The care schedule. The assigned shifts. The fact that you three are suddenly working together like a well-oiled machine when yesterday you were one wrong look away from Alpha brawling in the dining room.”
Miles’s lips quirk in what might almost be a smile. “Priorities change.”
“Evidently,” I agree, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes. My emotions are everywhere, another sign of my approaching heat. “And now I’m the priority? Me? The assistant? The background player?”
“You were never background,” Adrian says quietly, surprising me with his intensity. “Not to me.”
The simple statement hits me with unexpected force, silencing my laughter. I look at him—really look at him—and see something in his gray eyes I’ve never allowed myself to acknowledge before. Something that’s been there longer than this trip, this crisis, this forced proximity.
“Nor to me,” Miles adds, his deep voice carrying the same unexpected weight.
Caleb just holds my gaze across the table, something serious and unguarded in his expression that says more than words could.
The air between us all shifts, charged with something that goes beyond Alpha-Omega biology into territory I’m not prepared to navigate.
Another wave of heat pulses through me, stronger than before, sending me gripping the edge of the table as my vision blurs briefly. When it passes, all three have moved closer, though none are touching me.
“I think,” I say carefully, “that it’s time to implement your schedule. Starting with me resting in my room.”
