Then he sways again, and I'm up and across the room before conscious thought catches up. My hands hover near his elbows, not touching but ready to catch him if he falls.
"You need to lie down," I say softly. "Let us help you back to bed."
"I made a nest." The admission is quiet, almost shy. "It's... it's pretty good, actually. Used all the stuff you brought."
"Can we see?" Rafael asks, and there's genuine curiosity in his voice rather than anything predatory.
Bells hesitates, then steps back, allowing us into his space.
The room has been transformed. Every blanket we bought is incorporated into an elaborate nest on the bed. Pillows are arranged with clear intent, creating pockets and supports. The stuffed rabbit sits in the center like a guardian.
It's beautiful. Carefully constructed, obviously providing comfort. And it smells so strongly of omega in heat that my knees actually weaken.
Myomega in heat, according to the bonds singing like a string quartet in every cell of my fucking body. But that knowledge is the last damn thing he needs right now.
"This is amazing," Rafael says, his voice hoarse. "You did this all yourself?"
"Nesting is instinctive." Bells moves toward the nest but doesn't get in, like he's showing off his work but not ready to be vulnerable in it yet. He blows a puff of air through his nose. "It's one of the few omega things I actually like."
The confession is loaded with complicated feelings I don't have the tools to unpack right now.
"You should eat something," I suggest, gesturing to the snacks we left. "Keep your strength up."
Bells wrinkles his nose like we're trying to feed him bugs. "I'm not hungry."
Rafael starts unpacking the food just in case, arranging it on the desk so it's accessible. He tosses Bells a water bottle. "At least hydrate."
Bells catches the bottle and uncaps it without arguing. I watch his throat work with each swallow. Then another wave hits and Bells's knees buckle, his breath hitching, scent spiking with renewed intensity. He makes it to the nest, curling into the center, wrapped around the plush rabbit like its warmth will soothe the pain in his stomach.
"Out," Bells gasps. "Please. I can't—you need to go."
We do. We retreat to our room, closing the door most of the way but not all the way. Leaving it open enough to hear if he calls.
Rafael collapses onto the bed. "This is the worst kind of torture."
"Yeah." I scrub my hands over my face, sinking onto the mattress next to him. "Yeah, it really is."
This is going to be a long fucking night.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
RAFAEL
Bells's scent is getting stronger. Like someone's bottled liquid sex and is pumping it through the hotel's ventilation system directly into my lungs, my head, every cell in my fucking body.
I'm sprawled on my side of the bed, staring at the ceiling like it might have answers written in the water stains. Phoenix is doing the same thing on the other side, both of us trying to pretend we're not hyperaware of every sound, every shift in the air, every goddamnbreathcoming from the room next door.
My cock has been half-hard for the past hour, and I'm starting to think it's never going back down. Not while Bells is in there, wrapped in that nest we helped build, smelling like every fantasy I didn't know I was capable of having about another guy.
Because that's the thing that keeps circling back, isn't it?
Bells is aguy.
A male omega, sure, but still fundamentallymale. And I've spent my entire adult life being exclusively attracted to women. Exclusively. No experimentation in college, no drunken make-outs with bandmates, not even a fleeting curiosity about what it might be like.
Until now.
