“Alone is safe.”
Safe is boring.
“Safe is smart. Safe means we don’t make catastrophically bad decisions that ruin our career and reputation.”
But what if?—
“No. No what-ifs. We are staying in this nest, riding out the heat, and maintaining appropriate professional boundaries.”
My omega subsides, but I can feel her there, lurking, waiting for my resolve to weaken.
Which it probably will. Heat brain is not known for its stellar decision-making capabilities.
I close my eyes and try to doze, but sleep won’t come. My mind keeps racing, my body too restless and uncomfortable. Thefever is creeping back, warming my skin despite the cold shower.
Time moves strangely. I can’t tell if minutes are passing or hours. Meanwhile, the storm continues its assault on the house. Thunder. Rain. Wind. There’s the occasional crash of something outside. Branches, debris, who knows what.
And the sounds from inside the house.
I can still hear them moving around. Can’t they sleep either? Are they as uncomfortable as I am?
Probably.
I’m about to try rearranging my nest again when I hear it.
A crash.
Different from the storm sounds. This one is inside the house, followed immediately by raised voices.
“Shit!”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I just—watch out for the?—”
“Jesus, Dax!”
More voices overlapping, and what sounds like someone swearing very creatively.
My omega reacts immediately, flooding my system with alarm and concern.
Alphas might be hurt, she insists.Something’s wrong. Need to check. Need to help.
“They’re fine,” I tell myself firmly, gripping the edge of my blanket. “They’re four grown men who can handle whatever just happened. They don’t need me stumbling out there.”
But what if they’re hurt?
“They’re not hurt. It was probably just something falling over because of the storm.”
Should still check.
“Absolutely not. We are staying right here in this nest where it’s safe, and we’re not making everything awkward.”
Staying here while pack might be hurt is worse than awkward.
“They’re not pack.”
Could be pack.
