Slick soaked through the towel I was still wearing. I tore it off, too far gone to care about modesty, and pressed my face into the pillow that smelled like Caleb. Pine and woodsmoke. Alpha. Strong.
A moan escaped my throat, low and needy and nothing like my own voice.
"No," I gasped, forcing myself to pull back from the pillow. "No, no, no." My body wasn't listening to me anymore. My hand slid down my stomach, trailing through the slick that coated my thighs, and I?—
I couldn't stop myself. The first touch of my fingers against my swollen, aching flesh sent lightning through my veins. I cried out, hips bucking involuntarily, chasing a relief that danced just out of reach. I rubbed desperate circles around my clit, trying to take the edge off, trying to give my body something, anything, to quiet the screaming need.
It wasn't enough. It was never going to be enough. The orgasm, when it finally hit, was a pale shadow of satisfaction. A brief flicker of relief that faded almost instantly, leaving me more desperate than before. My body didn't want my own hands. It wanted Alpha hands. Alpha mouths. Alpha knots.
I screamed into the pillow, frustration and fury and shame tangled together until I couldn't tell them apart.
"Fuck," I sobbed, tears streaming down my face. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Another cramp tore through me, punishment for trying to satisfy myself, and I curled into a ball and shook.
I didn't hear the door open. Didn't know anyone was there until a cool hand pressed against my burning forehead, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Leo.
He was crouched beside the bed, those storm-gray eyes dark with something that made my stomach flip. His scent washedover me, chocolate and whiskey and spice, and my body lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Easy," he murmured, his hand still on my forehead. "Easy, sweetheart. I've got you."
"Don't touch me." But I didn't pull away. Couldn't pull away. His hand was cool against my fever-hot skin, and some animal part of me was desperate for more contact, more touch, more more more.
"You're burning up." His thumb stroked across my temple, and I shuddered. "Your heat's hitting hard. Harder than we expected."
"Good." The word came out slurred. "Hope it kills me."
"It won't." His other hand came up, pushing sweat-damp hair back from my face. "We won't let it. You have to stop fighting so hard, Ava. You're making it worse."
"I don't care." I cried out.
"Yes, you do." He leaned closer, and I could see the strain around his eyes, the tension in his jaw. He was holding himself back. I could smell how much he wanted me, the Alpha arousal cutting through his normal scent like a blade. "You care about surviving. You've always cared about surviving. And right now, surviving means accepting help."
"Not from you." But my voice was weak. My whole body was weak, trembling and aching and screaming for relief. "Never from you." Leo's smile was sad. Gentle. Nothing like the teasing smirk I was used to.
"Maybe not today," he said quietly. "But soon. Your heat is going to peak within the next twelve hours, and when it does, you won't be able to refuse anymore. Your body won't let you."
"My body doesn't get to decide." I told him and I knew it was true. I wasn’t going to have a choice at the end of this.
"Sweetheart." He cupped my face in both hands, forcing me to look at him. His gray eyes burned into mine, deadly serious."Your body is the only thing that gets to decide. That's what heat is. That's what being Omega means. You can fight it all you want, but eventually, biology wins. It always wins."
I wanted to argue. To tell him he was wrong, that I was stronger than my instincts, that I could outlast anything my stupid traitorous body threw at me. Another cramp chose that moment to hit, and I cried out, curling in on myself, and Leo caught me.
His arms wrapped around me, pulling me against his chest, and I was too weak to fight. Too desperate for the comfort of contact to push him away. He held me through the spasm, one hand rubbing circles on my back while I shook and whimpered and hated myself for not hating this.
"There you go," he murmured against my hair. "Just breathe. Ride it out. I've got you."
"I hate you," I whispered into his shirt.
"I know." He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "I love you anyway." When the cramp finally passed, I was limp in his arms, too exhausted to move. Leo laid me back in the nest gently, carefully, adjusting the blankets around me with a tenderness that made my chest ache.
"Sleep if you can," he said, standing. "The worst is still coming. You'll need your strength."
I wanted to tell him to go to hell. Instead, I closed my eyes and fell into a fitful, fever-bright sleep. The dreams were unbearable.
Hands on my skin—too many hands, not enough hands. Mouths trailing fire everywhere they touched. Bodies pressing me down into softness, surrounding me, filling me until I couldn't tell where I ended and they began.
Four faces above me, watching me fall apart.
