As I come back to myself, breathing hard, sweat cooling on my skin, I’m struck by a profound realization: for the first time in my life, I’ve experienced my body as it was meant to function. Not as something to be controlled or suppressed, but as something to be embraced.
The thought brings an unexpected sense of contentment.
God, being in heat is such a mindfuck.
I know this is just the beginning. My heat will intensify before it breaks, and I’ll probably end up doing things that would make the suppressed version of me want to crawl into a cave and die there.
But whatever comes next—for my career, for my carefully constructed identity, for my life—I will have to face it honestly.
I am definitely an omega.
And an omega only really needs one thing to get through a heat.
FIFTEEN
GRAYSON
I sitwith my back against the wall, the cool plaster a stark contrast to the heat building beneath my skin. Kai and Noah’s pool game provides background noise—the click of balls, Kai’s running commentary, Noah’s occasional dry response—but my focus is elsewhere.
On the other side of this wall, Holly just entered full-blown heat.
Pressed to the wall like this, I hear every rustle of the sheets as she writhes on the bed, every quickened breath as she gasps and whimpers. The sounds filter through the wall like whispers meant only for me, each one striking a primal chord deep in my chest. My fingers curl into fists on my thighs as I fight to remain still, to respect the boundaries we all promised to maintain.
“Eight ball, corner pocket,” Kai announces, leaning over the table with exaggerated concentration.
Noah snorts. “You’ve got no shot.”
“Watch and weep, BuzzKlink.”
“BuzzKlink?”
“It’s a play on words, BuzzKill…BuzzKlink. Get it?”
Noah sighs, clearly not offended. “You can really do better with the nicknames..”
“I know, I’m a perpetual disappointment.” Kai lines up, takes the shot, and misses spectacularly. The cue ball bounces off three rails before coming to rest in the middle of the table. “That was intentional. I’m just setting up my next move.”
“Your next move is watching me win,” Noah says, studying the table.
I tune them out again, my senses locked on the sounds from the other room. Holly’s breathing has changed, becoming more rapid, hitching slightly every few seconds. There’s a rhythmic quality to it now that makes my jaw clench and my blood run hot.
She’s touching herself.
I should move away from the wall. Give her privacy. But my body refuses to cooperate, every muscle locked in place as hints of her scent—sweet, spiced, so obviously omega even if it’s still more muted than it should be—seeps through the wall and wraps around me like invisible tendrils.
“You okay over there, Ghost?” Kai calls
I grunt in response, not trusting my voice. My bandana feels suddenly restrictive across my face, the air behind it too hot, too thick with her scent.
“You have next game after Noah inevitably scratches,” Kai continues, either oblivious to my state of mind or deliberately ignoring it.
Noah lines up his shot, sinks the eight ball cleanly, and straightens with a satisfied smirk. “You were saying?”
Kai throws up his hands in mock outrage. “Rigged! The table is clearly slanted.”
Their back-and-forth washes over me without registering. All I can focus on is the soft gasp from the other side of the wall,followed by a whimper so filled with need it makes my teeth ache with the effort of not responding.
I’ve had a omegas in heat before, difficult to avoid with so many of them in town. I’ve always been able to keep my head through the pheromones, the sounds of desperate need, felt the instinctive alpha response rise within me and been able to tamp it back down. I’ve always maintained control.
