Elle’s smile is shaky but genuine, relief washing over her features. “Thank you,” she whispers, squeezing my hand.
Another wave of heat hits her, stronger than before, making her grip tighten painfully on my fingers. Her scent spikes again, filling the room with sweet Omega pheromones that make my head swim and my body respond with embarrassing immediacy.
“We need to establish boundaries,” I say, struggling to maintain some semblance of control as Elle’s heat pheromones wash over me. “Rules. Structure.”
Caleb laughs, the sound strained. “Of course you do, Cole. Even in this, you need a fucking spreadsheet.”
But there’s no real bite to his words, and when our eyes meet over Elle’s trembling form, I see understanding there rather than mockery. He knows as well as I do that without somestructure, this could quickly devolve into something none of us intends.
“Adrian’s right,” Miles says, moving to the foot of the bed to give Elle more space. “Elle, what are your boundaries? What do you need from each of us?”
Elle laughs, the sound edged with desperation. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I’ve never—this isn’t something I planned for.”
“That makes four of us,” Caleb murmurs, earning a small smile from Elle that sends an unexpected pang of jealousy through me.
I push the feeling aside, focusing on practicalities. “Let’s start with basic comfort measures,” I suggest. “Cooling her down, managing the fever and cramping. Then we can reassess as needed.”
Elle nods gratefully, leaning back against the pillows as another tremor runs through her. “That sounds good,” she manages. “I just—I need?—”
“Tell us,” Miles encourages, his deep voice gentler than I’ve ever heard it. “Whatever you need, Elle. We’re here.”
She meets each of our gazes in turn, something vulnerable and determined in her expression. “I need you close,” she says finally. “All of you. Your scents, your touch. It helps. More than the cooling packs or the breathing or anything else.”
The simple honesty of her request cuts through my remaining reservations. This isn’t about Alpha competition or primitive instincts. It’s about Elle—brilliant, composed Elle Park who’s never asked for help in all the time I’ve known her—finally admitting she needs support.
“We can do that,” I say, shifting closer on the bed. I look at Caleb, then Miles, a silent communication passing between us. “We’re all here for you, Elle. However you need us.”
And as she reaches for my hand again, as Caleb moves to sit beside her, as Miles adjusts the cooling packs with careful precision, I feel something shift inside me—a relaxing of the rigid control I’ve maintained for so long, a surrender to something more powerful than Alpha territoriality or professional boundaries.
The storm continues outside, rain streaking the windows in silver rivulets, but inside this room, a different kind of storm is brewing—one made of four people navigating uncharted waters together, boundaries blurring and walls coming down with each passing moment.
As Elle’s heat intensifies, as her need becomes more urgent, I find myself not fighting against Caleb and Miles’s presence, but drawing strength from it. From the way Caleb makes her smile even through her discomfort. From Miles’s steady, practical care that complements my own need for structure.
My watch beeps softly—three o’clock, time for the scheduled temperature check. For once, I ignore it, the carefully crafted timetable suddenly less important than the woman trembling before me, reaching for comfort that only we, together, can provide.
“Adrian,” Elle whispers, her dark eyes finding mine with surprising clarity despite the fever consuming her. “Stay with me?”
“Yes,” I promise, the word encompassing more than just this moment, more than just this heat. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And as her scent wraps around me, as Caleb and Miles move closer on either side of her, I realize that for the first time since this nightmare began, I’m exactly where I need to be—rules unwritten, boundaries undefined, control willingly surrendered in service of something far more important than Alpha pride.
In service of Elle.
fifteen
. . .
Elle
Another wave crashes through me,more powerful than any before, and I arch off the bed with a cry that would embarrass professional Elle Park. But professional Elle Park is gone—dissolved in the inferno of my heat, replaced by this desperate, needy creature I barely recognize. The three Alphas exchange glances above me, some wordless communication passing between them before Adrian moves closer, his scent—sharp cedar and clean amber—wrapping around me like a physical touch.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it. His hands hover above me, waiting for permission despite the consent I’ve already given. “Tell me what you need, Elle.”
What I need. As if I could articulate the void inside me, the burning emptiness demanding to be filled. Words escape me, so I reach for him instead, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward me with strength I didn’t know I possessed. His skin against mine sends immediate relief flooding through my system—cool water on parched earth.
“Touch me,” I manage, the words barely recognizable as my own. “Please, Adrian. I need—I need?—”
He doesn’t make me finish. His controlled facade cracks as he stretches out beside me, gathering me against the solid wall of his chest. The weight of him, the pressure of his body against mine, makes me sob with relief. Through the haze of my heat, I register Miles and Caleb moving to give us space, though they remain within reach—watchful, waiting, their scents mingling with Adrian’s to create a protective cocoon around me.
