“Heat… soon.”
The word lands in my chest like a dropped weight. My alpha sits up inside me at once, instincts sharpening, scent thickening with warm, possessive spice.
I turn toward her fully, making sure she can see my mouth, my hands if she needs them.
“Soon?” I echo.
She nods, licking her lips. Her fingers lift, signing as she talks, the two modes overlapping.
“I’ve always used blockers before.” She swallows. “Didn’t want to use a helper,” she adds, “No alpha. It didn’t feel safe.”
The taste of those words—not safe—make something in me bare its teeth.
My hands lift almost without my permission. This is why I practiced. This is why I keep sitting in a class full of strangers and stumble through fingerspelling and grammar because I knew this conversation was coming.
I sign, slowly, deliberately:
Safe. With me. Always.
She freezes.
Her eyes flood, and it makes my chest ache. Her scent shifts, too—mint and green tea warming, it’s almost like a sweet hot tea on a cold night.
Her fingers rise, hesitant, touching my cheek.
“Always?” she whispers, the word rough but clear.
“Always,” I say out loud, just as slow. I don’t look away from her even once.
Her throat works as she swallows. She glances down, then back up, cheeks flushing.
“Was… thinking…” she says. “This heat. Maybe… no blockers.” Her hands fumble through the sign as she speaks. “I want your help.”
My heart thunders.
“You want… help,” I repeat carefully, making sure I don’t twist her words into what my instincts are already screaming.
Her gaze flicks to my mouth, then away. “Yes,” she adds, whispering. “I want you to help me through my heat.”
I swear I feel the Earth tilt.
My scent spikes, thick sandalwood rolling off me in a wave before I wrestle it back, forcing myself to breathe slowly. She’s an omega. I’m an alpha. Her heat is coming. Every biological imperative in my body is roaring, yes, yes, take, claim, keep.
But this isn’t about instinct.
This is about her choosing.
“When?” I ask, voice low. “For sure?”
She shrugs one shoulder. “Two weeks, maybe less.” Then, after a second, her face goes even redder. “Never… had,” she says, and I have to focus to catch it. “Real heat with alpha. No knot. No… mate.” Her fingers stutter over the word never.
My lungs stop working.
“You’ve never had sex with someone?” I ask as gently as I can. “No alpha. No knot. Nothing?”
She bites her lower lip, eyes flicking away, then back. A tiny shake of her head.
Something possessive and reverent and absolutely feral tears through me.
