“Do you need help?” Dax asks.
“With... water?” Sierra looks confused.
“With anything. The water. Or other things. Anything you might need.”
“No, but thanks.”
She walks past us to the kitchen, and I watch three alpha heads turn to follow her movement like we’re tracking a target. This is embarrassing. We’re embarrassing.
But I can’t stop watching either.
She’s moving a little slower than usual, a little more carefully. She fills a glass from the filtered pitcher in the fridge, drinks half of it standing there, then refills it.
The whole time, none of us moves. We just stand there in the living room like statues, watching her get water.
She turns and catches all of us staring.
“This is super normal and not weird at all,” she says.
“We weren’t staring,” Cole lies.
“Uh-huh.” She takes another sip of water, and I notice her hand is trembling slightly. “Well, I’m going back to my room now. To my nest. Where I will be for the foreseeable future. So, you guys can... stop standing at attention or whatever this is.”
She gives us a small wave. An adorable, awkward little wave that makes my chest do something weird, before she heads back down the hallway.
We all watch her go.
Her door clicks shut.
Slowly, we sit back down.
“That was smooth,” Jalen says.
“So smooth,” Dax agrees.
“The smoothest,” I mutter.
Cole runs a hand through his strawberry-blonde hair. “Okay, so maybe we’re slightly more affected than we thought.”
“You think?”
The scent she left behind is still lingering in the air. Honeycomb and cherry syrup. So fucking sweet. Sweet enough that my mouth waters. And underneath that sweetness are the beginning notes of heat. It’s not overwhelming yet, but it’s there, like a promise. A warning.
My alpha is roaring at me to do something. Bring her things. Make sure she’s safe. Check that her nest has everything she needs. Protect her from the storm.
Which is insane because Sierra Smith does not need my protection. She’s one of the most competent omegas I know. She once coordinated a three-hundred-person wedding during a power outage using only a headlamp and sheer force of will.
But my alpha doesn’t care about any of that.
“Malik,” Dax says quietly. “You okay?”
I realize I’ve been staring at the hallway for a solid minute.
“We need suppressants,” I announce. “Now.”
“We took them this morning,” Cole says.
“We need more.”
