The nickname slips out without thought, something I've heard Dustin call her a dozen times over the past few days.
Solana's eyes dart around the nest, taking in the evidence of the past few days. The thoroughly rumpled blankets, the pillows scattered everywhere, the scent of sex and sweat and multiple bodies permeating everything. Her hand comes up to touch her neck, fingers ghosting over the love bites marking her skin. Then she looks down at herself, at the dried spend still coating her stomach, and her face flushes an even deeper shade.
"That moment together was fucking amazing," I say quietly, needing her to know I don't regret anything that happened. "But it also begs even more questions."
I can't help but take her in properly now that we're both awake. She's absolutely beautiful, even disheveled and marked up from her heat. There's a reddish tone to her medium brown skin, a flush that speaks to lingering arousal or embarrassment or both. Her scent has sweetened further, that vanilla and orchid intensifying to almost unbearable levels. It makes my mouth water and my body respond with interest despite how thoroughly wrung out I should be.
The light bruises and love marks scattered across her body tell a story of passion and claiming. Some are darker than others, clear impressions of teeth and fingers that will fade over the next week. They're beautiful in their own way, evidence of how thoroughly her Alphas worship her.
Solana blushes even deeper, if that's possible, her whole face going dark as she registers what I'm looking at. She grabs for a blanket, pulling it up to cover herself with fumbling fingers. "I need to shower. I think. I don't..."
Her voice trails off, uncertainty clear in every line of her body. She tries to stand, her legs shaking as she attempts to support her own weight. But her muscles aren't cooperating, too exhausted from days of use to function properly. She wobbles dangerously, her hand shooting out to grab the edge of the bed for support.
I push to my feet quickly, ignoring the protest of my own sore muscles. My body aches but it's manageable, years of training making me more resilient to physical exhaustion than most Omegas. I move to her side and help her stand properly, my hands gentle as they steady her.
But even with my support, Solana is too unsteady. Her legs threaten to give out completely, trembling with the effort of just staying upright. Before she can fall, I scoop her up into my arms, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. She lets out a surprised squeak, her arms automatically wrapping around my neck for stability.
"How are you so comfortable with this?" Solana asks as I carry her toward what I assume is the bathroom. Her voice carries genuine curiosity mixed with confusion.
I navigate carefully through the bedroom, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. The bathroom is attached, the door partially open and revealing gleaming tile and modern fixtures. I carry her inside and set her down gently on the closed toilet lid, making sure she's stable before letting go.
"I've had my share of heats," I explain, moving to the shower and fiddling with the knobs. The water starts flowing, cold at first before warming up. I adjust the temperature carefully, testing it with my hand until it's perfect. "And I've helped an Omega or two after them. It can be disorienting."
The admission feels strange to voice. My heats have never been comfortable experiences, managed under my father's watchful eye with Alphas he deemed appropriate for potential business alliances. Clinical encounters designed to satisfy biological necessity while serving Charles' political purposes. Nothing like what I witnessed happening between Solana and her Alphas over the past few days.
"It doesn't feel like it's over," Solana says quietly, her hand pressing against her lower abdomen like she can feel something I can't see.
I glance back at her, taking in the flush still present on her skin and the way her scent continues to sweeten. The deepest parts of her heat has passed but it isn’t finished, a spike probably in our near future based on the intensity of her scent.
"It's probably not," I agree, moving back to help her stand. "But that scare from earlier probably rearranged the timeline a bit. Sometimes emotional distress can cause heat cycles to pause temporarily before resuming."
I support her weight as we move toward the shower, her body leaning heavily against mine. She almost crumples again, her legs giving out completely. I catch her easily, taking her full weight without complaint. My arms wrap around her securely, holding her up while the steam from the shower starts to fill the bathroom.
I know I should probably grab her Alphas. Kade or Dustin or both of them together, let them handle this because she's theirs and I'm just... what? A guest? An intruder? Someone who got caught up in something far bigger than they understand?
But I'm selfish. I want this moment to hold her, knowing it might not happen again once everything settles and reality intrudes. Once they all realize that having me here is complicated and messy and probably more trouble than it's worth. Once Stefan decides we need to leave and find somewhere else to go, somewhere that doesn't involve living in another Alpha's space with an Omega who makes my heart race and my instincts scream that I want to stay.
Besides, the slight panic in Solana's eyes tells me something important. This is one of her first heats awake. Actually awake and aware and experiencing everything instead of being sedated into unconsciousness. The knowledge makes rage bubble up in my chest, anger at Harmony House and everyone who works there for what they did to her.
I've heard about the horrors of Harmony House, whispered conversations between my father and his associates when they thought I wasn't listening. A place where Omegas are broken down and rebuilt into compliant, controllable versions of themselves. Where natural biology is treated as something shameful and wrong, something to be suppressed and managed rather than celebrated.
My father tried to send me there once, years ago when I was sixteen and presenting for the first time. He stood in his office with paperwork in hand, explaining calmly how Harmony House would "civilize" me and make me a more suitable heir to his empire. Stefan overheard and threatened to quit on the spot, not that it was something he could actually do. Since my father couldn’t afford to kill Stefan and lose the Alpha’s valuable help, the plan changed.
He kept me instead, turning me into a different kind of pawn. One he could parade in front of business associates and potential allies, dangling the possibility of bonding with me like a carrot to secure deals and alliances. Never following through, never actually allowing anyone close enough to claim me, just using the promise of me to manipulate others.
I guide Solana under the spray, the hot water immediately soaking into her braids and running down her body. She shivers despite the warmth, her hands coming up to brace against my chest for stability. The water starts washing away the evidence of her heat, the dried slick on her thighs, the spend on her stomach, and the sweat coating her skin.
I reach for the body wash sitting on the shelf, squeezing some into my palm. The scent is neutral, unscented soap that won't interfere with anyone's natural smell. I start washing her carefully, my hands gentle as they move over her skin.
Solana leans into the touch, her body relaxing incrementally as I work. I wash down her arms first, then across her shoulders and down her back. My movements are methodical, therapeutic rather than sexual. She needs care right now, not arousal, even though my body is responding to having her naked and wet and pressed against me.
"You're good at this," Solana murmurs, her eyes half-closed as I wash her hair. My fingers work carefully through her braids, making sure to rinse away any product buildup or sweat without disturbing the actual braiding.
"Practice," I say simply, not elaborating on the circumstances that gave me that practice.
I continue washing her, moving down to her stomach and legs. The water runs clear now, all evidence washing away and disappearing down the drain. But the marks remain; the love bites and bruises and scratches that speak to passion and claiming. Those will take days to fade, visible reminders of what happened here.
When I'm satisfied she's clean, I start washing myself quickly. Solana watches through heavy-lidded eyes, her gaze tracking over my body with obvious interest. I try to ignore the attention, focusing on the task at hand rather than the way her scent is sweetening further.
