“I’m never trusting any of you again,” I finally managed, though the words came out weaker than intended, my voice still affected by having my mouth thoroughly claimed by three different alphas in rapid succession.
“If that’s what you need to believe,” Stefano said, his thumb brushing across my swollen lips with possessive satisfaction.
Before I could protest further, he was lifting me toward the nearest ATV, settling me on the seat in front of him. Zeus bounded over to claim his spot behind Marco while Apollo positioned himself behind Matteo with obvious familiarity.
Stefano swung his leg over the seat behind me, his chest pressing against my back as his arms came around me to reach the handlebars. The position left me completely caged against him, surrounded by his scent and warmth.
Trapped between his arms for the entire ride back, pressed against him like his personal omega accessory. This definitely won’t reawaken any inconvenient feelings.
The engines roared to life, and we began the journey back through terrain that would have been treacherous on foot even in daylight. The narrow trail wound through dense forest, over rocky outcroppings, and around fallen trees that would have been invisible obstacles in the dark. Deep ruts and loose stones made the path challenging even for the four-wheeled vehicles, requiring careful navigation and constant adjustments.
No wonder they didn’t offer this option last night. Even with headlights, trying to navigate this terrain in the dark while I was in heat would have been suicide. We could have driven off a cliff or wrapped around a tree before making it halfway back.
The forty-minute ride was a study in contradictions. Every bump and jolt sent me pressing back against Stefano’s solid chest, his arms tightening protectively around me when the trail became particularly rough. The rational part of my mind cataloged this as practical safety measures. The traitorous omega part reveled in being held so securely, surrounded by his pine and winter scent.
By the time the cottage came into view, I was wound tight with tension from fighting my body’s responses to his proximity. When the engines finally cut off, I practically launched myself off the ATV, desperate for space to think clearly.
Aunt Akiko burst through the cottage door before I’d taken three steps, Uncle Jiro close behind. Her hands immediately flew to my face, checking my temperature and studying my pale complexion with obvious concern.
“Leo-kun! You look absolutely dreadful!” she exclaimed, her voice pitched high with worry. “Jiro-san, look how thin he’s gotten! And so pale!”
Uncle Jiro’s weathered face creased with concern as he took in my unsteady posture and the way I was swaying on my feet. “What happened to him?” he asked the alphas directly, his tone carrying the authority of someone who’d been entrusted with my care.
“Medication reaction,” Stefano explained diplomatically, his hand steady on my arm as my legs threatened to give out. “Military-grade suppressants. His system is still recovering.”
“Suppressants?” Aunt Akiko’s eyes widened with understanding and immediate action. “Jiro-san, get the civilian-grade backup from the emergency kit. The mild ones, not the standard strength.”
Uncle Jiro nodded grimly, heading back into the cottage with purposeful strides. “I’ll prepare the guest room on the first floor too,” he called over his shoulder. “Stairs will be too much for him.”
“No,” I protested weakly, though my voice lacked conviction. “My room is fine. I can manage stairs.”
“You can barely manage standing,” Marco said. “Stairs would be an unnecessary risk.”
Aunt Akiko was already ushering us toward the cottage, her hands fluttering over me like a worried mother hen. “Inside, inside! You need warmth and proper food immediately. I’ll make something gentle for your stomach.”
The procession into the cottage felt surreal. Three massive alphas crowding into our modest living space while Aunt Akiko bustled around, pulling blankets from the linen closet and directing Uncle Jiro to adjust the thermostat.
“The first-floor guest room,” she announced, leading us down the hallway past the kitchen. “Better for monitoring, and the bathroom is just across the hall.”
The guest room was smaller than my upstairs bedroom, dominated by a double bed covered in one of Aunt Akiko’s handmade quilts. Uncle Jiro had already turned down the covers and was adjusting the pillows.
“Into bed immediately,” Aunt Akiko declared, and before I could protest, Stefano was lifting me again, settling me against the pillows.
“I can undress myself,” I said, though the borrowed clothes were starting to feel heavy and uncomfortable against my skin.
“Can you?” Uncle Jiro asked skeptically, noting how my hands trembled as I reached for the shirt hem. Withoutceremony, he moved to help, his movements brisk but gentle as he eased the fabric over my head.
Even Uncle Jiro is treating me like an invalid. This is definitely rock bottom for my dignity.
“The suppressants and painkillers,” Aunt Akiko said, pressing the pills into my palm along with a glass of water.
I swallowed the medication gratefully, the water soothing my dry throat. Within minutes, I could feel some of the shakiness beginning to ease.
“I’ll start the soup,” Aunt Akiko announced, bustling toward the door. “Jiro-san, make sure he stays in bed. No getting up except for bathroom breaks, and only with assistance.”
“I’m not an invalid,” I protested, though the words came out weaker than intended. “I don’t need constant supervision.”
“You nearly collapsed walking from the ATV to the house,” Uncle Jiro pointed out with his characteristic bluntness. “Supervision is exactly what you need.”
