The relative quiet of my room is both a relief and a torture. I can still smell them. Their scents have permeated everything. But at least here I don’t have to pretend to be in control. Don’t have to maintain the facade of being fine when everything is very much not fine.
I lean back against the door and let myself slide down to the floor.
My nest is calling to me. The same nest my omega has been building and rebuilding obsessively. I should go to it. Should curl up and try to ride out the heat wave that’s currently making my entire body shake.
But I stay where I am, back pressed against the door, listening.
I can hear them moving around in the living room. Low voices. I can’t make out words, but I can hear the cadence. Malik’s measured tones. Dax’s rough growl. Jalen’s softer inflection. Cole’s occasional comment, though it sounds strained.
We’re all trying so hard.
A week. We have to survive possibly a week of this.
I close my eyes and try to convince myself it’s possible.
Try to ignore the way my body is aching for them.
Try to forget the hunger in their eyes.
Try not to think about what it would feel like to give in.
Dax
The moment Sierra’s door clicks shut, I feel like I can breathe again.
Sort of.
My cock is still hard enough to pound nails, and her scent is everywhere. Sweet honeycomb and cherry syrup, mixed with the unmistakable scent of slick. She’s wet. She’s in pre-heat and she’s wet, and every instinct I have is screaming at me to go to her, to help her, to claim her.
I dig my nails into my palms hard enough to hurt.
“That was...” Cole starts, then trails off, apparently unable to find the right word. He’s adjusting himself again, not even trying to hide it.
“Torture,” I finish for him, dropping onto the stool. My whole body is still vibrating with the need to follow her, to make sure she’s okay.
No. Stop. She’s fine. She made it to her room. She’s safe.
“She’s very strong,” Jalen says quietly, settling back onto the couch. His good hand is shaking slightly. “Most omegas in pre-heat wouldn’t be able to hold a coherent conversation, let alone establish ground rules and solve problems.”
“She’s not most omegas,” Malik mutters, staring at his phone though the screen is dim.
He’s right. Sierra is... different. Special. The kind of omega who psychologically profiles people as a coping mechanism, who organizes emergency meetings while in pre-heat, who maintains her sense of humor even when her biology is trying to tear her apart.
The kind of omega who looked at me with those eyes and made my alpha roar with the need to protect, to provide, to claim.
The kind of omega my alpha is convinced we need.
I shove that thought down so hard it should have hit the basement by now.
“Did you see...” Cole starts, then stops. Runs his hand through his hair. “Fuck. Her scent. I’ve never smelled anything like that.”
“Don’t,” I warn, but my voice comes out rough.
“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking,” Cole shoots back. “We’re all hard as rocks and pretending we’re not. Might as well be honest about it.”
“Being honest doesn’t help,” Jalen says, but he’s not wrong. We’re all fighting the same battle.
“Music,” I say abruptly, needing to focus on something practical before I lose my mind. “We should set that up now. Before it gets worse.”
