"Copy that," he breathed against my denim.
I closed my eyes and let the avalanche take me.
SIXTEEN
Zia
The air in the lounge was thick enough to chew. My scent was flooding the space, a high-pressure system of neon citrus and ozone that made the atmosphere crackle, but beneath it, the room was saturated with them.
Blackberries and scorched sugar. Espresso and heavy molasses. Toasted tea and sesame brittle.
It should have been overwhelming. My brain, usually protected by layers of blockers and white noise, screamed that I was walking into a reactor core without a suit. But my body hummed in resonance. This wasn't noise. This was the mix I’d been trying to balance for weeks.
Movement caught my eye but I couldn't look away from the men around me though my brain registered Cal slipping out of the room. I hadn't been sure whether he fit or not until this point and I was relieved that he made the decision for me. There was nothing about him that stirred feelings in me, but if he'd been part of the pack…
What was I thinking?
Part of the pack?
I was just asking them to help me through this heat, I wasn't about to bond with them. Was I? Was that something I even wanted?
My brain was spinning and it was only when I felt Alfie lean his forehead against my knee that my mind stopped being a merry-go-round and became laser focused on the points of contact I had with the three of them.
"Copy that," Alfie breathed again, more to himself than anyone else. The vibration traveled straight up my shin, a low-frequency hum that made my toes curl.
I looked down at him. The man who had talked me off a ledge through a locked door. He was trembling, his hands fisted in the carpet to keep from grabbing me. The restraint was palpable, a physical weight in the room.
"Kit," I whispered, turning my head slightly. "Forty percent. Confirm."
Beside me, Kit let out a exhale that sounded like a compressor releasing pressure. His arm, heavy and thick with muscle, tightened around my ribs. He didn't squeeze. He grounded. He became a human gravity blanket, anchoring me to the sofa so I wouldn't float away.
"Confirmed," Kit rumbled, his Manchester accent thick as syrup. "Structure holding. I’ve got the low end, Z. I’m not moving."
"Euan." I looked at the standing figure. He was watching us with wide, blown pupils, his chest heaving. The Systems Brain. The man who built airlocks to keep me safe. "I need you to check the levels."
Euan blinked, his processing speed lagging behind the biological crash. "Define... levels."
"Pulse," I gasped as a wave of heat rolled through me, sharper this time. "Temp. Proximity. Don't let the signal clip."
He understood. The metaphor bridged the gap between his fear and his function. He took two strides, crossing the invisible barrier he’d maintained for weeks. He knelt on the other side of my legs, mirroring Alfie but not touching. Not yet.
"Requesting access to radial artery," Euan said, his voice rough.
"Granted."
His fingers, cool and calloused from guitar strings and coding, brushed the inside of my wrist. The contact was electric. A shock of cold against my fever-hot skin.
"Heart rate one-ten," Euan murmured, eyes glued to my wrist like a monitor. "You're running hot, Z. Red-lining."
"Then mix it down," I snapped, my head falling back against Kit’s shoulder. "Don't just watch the meters. Do something."
The invitation hung there.
Alfie moved first. He shifted, sliding his hands up my calves, over my jeans. He wasn't asking for sex; he was answering the distress signal. He squeezed, a rhythmic pressure that matched the beat Euan was counting.
"Here," Alfie whispered, his face pressing into my thigh. "I'm here, fox. Grounding you out."
"Talk," I demanded, eyes squeezing shut as the cramps twisted in my belly. "Kit. Talk."
