Kai leads us down a hallway lined with what look like original art pieces—not the mass-produced prints that hung in my family home, but actual paintings with texture and depth. We stop at a heavy wooden door at the end of the hall.
Kai pushes it open with a flourish. “Here we are.”
I step inside and can’t suppress a small gasp. The room is stunning—spacious yet somehow cozy, with a king-sized bed draped in actual silk sheets. A sitting area with a small sofa and armchair faces another fireplace, this one already lit and casting dancing shadows on the walls. Large windows offer a view of the forest, now just dark shapes against the white backdrop of snow.
But it’s the details that catch my attention. A mini-fridge hums quietly in one corner. A glass cabinet beside it is full of an assortment of teas, snacks, and bottled water. Plush blankets are folded at the foot of the bed and draped over the furniture. The lighting is soft and adjustable.
Every element has been chosen for comfort. For an omega in heat.
My fingers brush against the edge of a blanket, the material so soft it almost doesn’t feel real. I’ve never owned anything this decadent.
“The bathroom’s through there,” Kai says, pointing to another door. “It has a rainfall shower and a soaking tub. And, uh, everything’s scent-neutral. The cleaning products, the linens, everything.”
I turn to look at him, finding unexpected vulnerability in his expression.
“I thought it could be good for...” he trails off, gesturing vaguely with his hands.
“Thank you,” I say in the awkward silence. “This is very thoughtful.”
Kai brightens immediately. “Internet is spotty, so no streaming, but there is an excellent digital video library curated specifically for snow days. Nothing says blizzard like a good binge-watch, right?”
His attempt at lightening the mood works better than it should. I relax slightly, drawn to a plush chair by the window. Through the glass, I can see nothing but swirling white, the storm having erased the world beyond this room.
Maybe that’s fitting. For the next few days, my world will narrow to this space, to the battle between my biology and my will.
“We’ll be just down the hall if you need anything,” Dr. Klinkhart says, his professional mask firmly in place. “Anything at all.”
He still has to be Dr Klinkhart to me, I remind myself. No matter what happens while we’re stuck here, I can’t forget that this man is basically my boss and I’ll have to face him as a professional when this is all over.
Just praying I don’t embarrass myself between now and then.
I nod, not trusting my voice. The fever is creeping higher, making my skin feel too tight, too sensitive. Soon, the symptoms will be impossible to hide.
“The door locks from the inside,” Kai adds quietly. “Key’s in the drawer of the bedside table.”
The implication is clear—I can keep them out if I choose to. The fact that they’re making this explicit sends a wave of relief through me so strong it’s almost dizzying.
“Thank you,” I manage. “All of you. I know this isn’t... ideal.”
“Hey, what are neighbors for if not to rescue each other during blizzards?” Kai quips, but his eyes are kind. “Besides, it’s nice having company. This place gets too quiet sometimes.”
Given Kai’s personality, I find that hard to believe but I appreciate the sentiment.
“We should let you rest,” Dr. Klinkhart says. “I’ll check on you in a few hours, if that’s all right. Just to make sure you’re not having any dangerous withdrawal side effects.”
So protective, my mind whispers.Alpha wants to take care of you.
Fuck.
I squeeze my eyes shut hard enough to ache. Dr. Klinkhart is just displaying professional interest. He is adoctor.Hormones might put the image in my head of climbing him like a tree, but both of us are better than our biology.
“Yes,” I agree, the word coming out more breathless than I’d like. “That would be fine.”
The three men move toward the door, each casting a final glance my way. Their concern is palpable, but there’s something else there too—a protectiveness that should feel stifling but somehow doesn’t.
As the door closes behind them, I sink onto the edge of the bed, my legs finally giving out. The silk sheets are cool againstmy overheated skin, and I allow myself a moment of pure sensation before the reality of my situation crashes back.
I’m in heat.
