I don't argue with that, grateful for his presence as we make our way down the hall to the guest room. The closer we get, the stronger Ashton's scent becomes. Faded lavender and rain-soaked stone, just like Dustin described, but overlaid with pain and fear and exhaustion.
I knock softly on the door before pushing it open. The room is dim, curtains drawn against the morning light. Ashton is sitting up in bed, propped against pillows with his injured side carefully positioned. He looks pale, almost gray, with dark circles under his eyes that speak to blood loss and shock.
But even with the sickly look on his face, he's gorgeous. Beautiful in that delicate way some Omegas are, all sharp cheekbones and full lips and eyes that seem too large for his face. His hair is disheveled, falling across his forehead in messy waves.
I move to sit at the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. Dustin hovers in the doorway, giving us space but staying close enough to intervene if needed.
Ashton just stares at the plate in my hands, his expression unreadable. There's wariness there, and confusion, and something that might be suspicion. Like he can't figure out why I'm here, why I'm bringing him food.
"You need to eat to build up your strength," I say quietly, offering the plate toward him.
"I shouldn't be here," Ashton says, his voice coming out hoarse. "This is your home, your space. I'm intruding during your heat."
Frustration rises in me suddenly, the feeling catching me off guard. He's hurt and scared and he needs care, not to be worrying about whether he's welcome.
I climb onto the bed without thinking about it, crawling across the mattress to settle beside him. Behind me, I hear Dustin move like he's going to reach for me, pull me back. I turn and glare at him, making it clear I'm not going anywhere.
Dustin freezes, his hand dropping back to his side. There's surprise on his face, and something else I can't quite identify. But he doesn't try to stop me again.
I settle next to Ashton, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. I can feel the heat radiating from him, feverish warmth that speaks to his body fighting infection or trauma. Taking the plate, I tear off a piece of toast with my fingers and hold it inches from his lips.
"Eat," I command, my voice leaving no room for argument.
There's silence for several seconds. Ashton stares at the toast, then at me, then back at the toast. I can see him weighing his options, deciding whether to obey or refuse. Finally, he opens his mouth and lets me place the toast on his tongue.
I offer a small smile as he chews slowly, mechanically. Then I repeat the action, tearing off another piece and holding it up for him. This time he takes it more readily, some of the resistance fading.
We continue like this in silence. I feed him piece by piece, alternating between toast and eggs. There's something soothing about it, something that settles the restless need in my chest. Each time he accepts the food, each time he swallows, I feel a little bit of satisfaction bloom inside me.
Ashton starts leaning into my offerings, his body unconsciously tilting toward me as he eats. The wariness in his expression softens, replaced by something that might be acceptance or relief. By the time the plate is empty, some color has returned to his cheeks.
A sound from the doorway makes both of us look up. Hooves clicking against hardwood, followed by the sight of Moo-Shu appearing in the doorway. The cow looks rather disheveled, his fur sticking up in odd directions like he's been sleeping rough. He trots into the room like he owns it, settling at the foot of the bed on the floor with a contented huff.
"Is that a motherfucking cow?" Ashton asks, his voice carrying genuine disbelief.
A laugh bubbles up from my chest before I can stop it. "Dustin bought him for me."
Ashton blinks at me, processing this information. Then a small, surprised laugh escapes him too. "You have a highland cow as a pet?"
"Apparently," I agree, grinning at the absurdity of it.
The laughter breaks some of the tension in the room. Ashton relaxes back against the pillows, his breathing easier than it was when I first came in. I set the empty plate aside and climb off the bed, suddenly aware that I've been sitting very close to a strange Omega while my heat builds.
"I'll check in again later, okay?" I tell him.
Ashton nods, his eyes already starting to droop with exhaustion. "Thank you. For the food and... everything."
I take Moo-Shu by his makeshift collar, guiding the cow out of the guest room and back toward the living room. Dustin follows us, his expression thoughtful in ways I don't quite understand.
Once we're back in the living room with Moo-Shu settled by the couch, I turn to Dustin. "How mad is Kade about everything?"
The question has been nagging at me since last night. Kade ordered me into the bedroom with such authority, such urgency. I know he was protecting me but part of me worries that having Stefan and Ashton here is causing problems I don't fully understand.
Dustin reaches for my hands, threading our fingers together. "Kade isn't mad. Just a little worried about logistics and keeping everyone safe while your heat hits."
I frown, not quite understanding. "But Stefan is your brother. Of course he'd help him."
"It's more complicated than that," Dustin says carefully. "Stefan showing up with an injured Omega while you're in preheat... it's not a typical situation."
