“Okay,” I whisper. “Okay.”
“I should...” I stand, needing to move, needing to do something with the restless energy building under my skin. “I need to cool down. Is there—can I splash some water on my face or something?”
“Bathroom’s down the hall,” Ben says. “Towels are in the cabinet under the sink. Water should still run, just won’t be hot without power.”
Cold water. Good. Cold is exactly what I need right now.
I escape to the bathroom and close the door behind me. Lean against it for a moment, breathing.
My reflection in the mirror looks like a stranger. Flushed cheeks, bright eyes, lips slightly parted. I look... alive. More alive than I have in months.
And underneath that, something else. Something hungry.
I strip off Ben’s clothes and step into the shower. The cold water hits me like a slap, sharp enough to make me gasp. I force myself to stand under it, teeth chattering, hoping the shock will reset something in my body. Calm the heat building under my skin.
It helps. A little. Enough to think straight for five minutes.
When I get out and dry off, shivering, I realize I don’t have anything else to wear. Just Ben’s clothes, waiting for me on the counter where I left them.
I pull them back on. The flannel settles over my shoulders like a hug, and I breathe in his scent without meaning to. My whole body shivers in response—and not from the cold this time. There’s a slickness between my thighs that wasn’t there before.
So much for that reset.
This is going to be a very long few days.
When I emerge from the bathroom, all three of them are in the living room. Elijah’s adding wood to the fire. Ben’s on the couch, and Milo’s sprawled in the armchair. They look up when I appear, and I feel their attention like a physical weight.
I sink onto the edge of the couch—the opposite end from Ben—and stare at nothing.
Eight years.
Eight years I’ve been taking those pills, suppressing every heat, every biological urge, every instinct that makes me an omega. Eight years of control. Of safety. Of never having to need anyone.
And now it’s all going to come undone because I forgot to put a bottle back in my bag.
“Tessa.” Elijah’s voice, quiet. He’s crouched by the fire, watching me. “You’re shaking.”
I look down at my hands. He’s right. They’re trembling in my lap.
“I’m scared,” I admit, and the words surprise me as much as they surprise them. “I don’t... I don’t do this. Any of this. I don’t let people take care of me. I’ve built my whole life on not needing anyone, and now?—”
My voice breaks. I look away, blinking hard.
The couch dips as Ben moves closer. His hand finds mine, careful of the gauze. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”
On my other side, Elijah sits down. Close enough that his cedarwood scent wraps around me. Three alphas, bracketing me. It should feel suffocating. Instead it feels like shelter.
“We meant what we said at breakfast,” Milo says from the armchair, voice soft. “All of it. Whatever you need.”
I look at Ben’s hand wrapped around mine. At Elijah’s steady presence. At Milo watching from the armchair, patient and unhurried.
And I do the only thing I can think of.
I lean into Ben’s chest and let myself break. Just a little. Just enough to let them in.
His arms come around me immediately. On my other side, Elijah’s hand settles warm and steady on my back. And Milo moves from the armchair to crouch in front of me, his palm curving around my knee.
Three alphas. Holding me together while I fall apart.
