“I’m not going in there,” I stated flatly, though my voice lacked its usual conviction when I was actively using him as ahuman stabilizer. “Once was enough. My near-death experience quota is filled for the month.”
“The water is perfectly safe when you’re not trying to escape,” Stefano said, already pulling his shirt over his head with one hand while keeping the other steady on my arm. “And we’ll be right there with you.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. Because apparently being around naked alphas makes my brain cells commit suicide and my body stage a rebellion against common sense.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” I yelped as all three alphas began to strip with military efficiency. “Is this some kind of alpha group nudity ritual I wasn’t informed about? Should I be expecting interpretive dance next? Maybe some synchronized swimming?”
“Washing,” Matteo replied simply, folding his clothes. “Clothes get in the way. And you’re going to need help.”
Right. Because I can barely stand without swaying, let alone navigate washing myself in a pond without drowning. Again.
“I can wash myself,” I protested automatically, though even I could hear how unconvincing it sounded when I was still gripping Stefano’s arm to stay upright.
“Can you?” Marco asked with raised eyebrows, now gloriously and distractingly naked. “Because thirty seconds ago you nearly face-planted in the tent, and now you’re using Stefano as a very attractive support beam.”
Very attractive support beam. Fuck. Even Marco’s compliments are designed to short-circuit my brain.
“Turn around,” I demanded, crossing my free arm over my chest while keeping the other locked around Stefano’s forearm. “I’m not providing free entertainment for you three perverts.”
To my surprise, they actually complied, though the amused expressions they exchanged suggested they were humoring merather than respecting my boundaries. With Stefano’s steadying grip, I managed to shrug out of the borrowed shirt, though the sweatpants proved more challenging.
“I’ve got it,” I insisted when Stefano moved to help, but the moment I bent over to push the fabric down, another wave of dizziness hit me hard.
“Clearly,” Stefano said dryly, catching me before I could topple forward. “Let me help.”
Let him help. With taking off my pants. While I’m dizzy and weak and he’s completely naked and right there. This definitely won’t awaken any inconvenient feelings.
His hands were gentle but efficient, sliding the sweatpants down my legs while steadying me with casual expertise. The intimacy of the gesture—being undressed by him while vulnerable—sent confusing heat spiraling through my exhausted system.
“There,” he murmured, one arm wrapping around my waist as I stepped out of the fabric. “Now let’s get you in the water before you fall over.”
“I’m not going to fall over,” I lied, even as I leaned more heavily against his solid warmth. “I’m just… conserving energy.”
“Of course you are,” he agreed with fond amusement. Before I could protest, he swept me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest. “Very strategic energy conservation.”
“What are you—I can walk!” I protested, though my arms automatically wrapped around his neck for stability. “It’s just water! I don’t need to be carried like some?—”
“Like some omega who can barely stand?” he asked mildly, wading into the pond with sure steps. “Because that’s exactly what you are right now, little wildcat.”
Little wildcat. Even when I’m weak as a kitten, he still calls me that. Though being carried while naked against his equallynaked chest is sending all sorts of confusing signals to my exhausted brain.
The shock of cool water against my legs made me gasp and instinctively press closer to his warmth. His arms tightened around me, one hand splaying across my lower back while the other supported my thighs.
“Easy,” he murmured against my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “I’ve got you.”
He’s got me. Literally and figuratively. When’s the last time someone said that and actually meant it?
He lowered me gradually into the water, keeping his hands on my waist to steady me as my feet touched the smooth stones of the pond bottom. Even with his support, I swayed slightly, my legs feeling unreliable beneath me.
“This is humiliating,” I muttered, letting my head fall forward against his shoulder when another wave of weakness hit. “I used to be able to walk and bathe myself like a functional human being.”
“You still can,” he said quietly, his mouth close enough to my ear that I could feel his lips brush my skin. “You’re just recovering from something that would flatten most omegas completely. The fact that you’re conscious at all is impressive.”
Right. Like being a dizzy, weak mess who needs alpha assistance to stand in a pond is some kind of achievement.
“I don’t feel impressive,” I admitted, too exhausted to maintain my usual defensive snark. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck driven by my own biology.”
“Military suppressants are designed to completely override omega physiology,” Marco explained, wading closer with soap in hand. “Your body is essentially rebooting its entire hormonal system. Of course you feel like hell.”
