Harlan
I wake because something feels wrong.
Nobody is in danger. Cassie’s not spiking another fever or crying out for one of us.
Something has just changed.
For one disorientating second, I expect the familiar press of deadlines, meetings, numbers and decisions already lining up behind my eyes before I’ve even opened them.
Instead, I find blankets everywhere. The nest looks like it’s lost a fight with a hurricane.
Pillows are scattered across the room, half the blankets have somehow ended up in a heap near the makeshift doorway, and Evander is starfished on his back with one leg thrown over Isaac, who’s still somehow asleep despite it.
Silas is slumped against the headboard, his head tilted awkwardly, one arm stretched out where it’d clearly been reaching for Cassidy before exhaustion finally won.
And Cassidy… oh, she’s fucking beautiful.
My chest tightens at the exhaustion in my little mate.
She’s drifted away from us all in her sleep, curled into herself beneath a blanket that’s slipped dangerously low over one shoulder.
For the past six days, she hasn’t wanted to be more than a few inches away from us.
Now she’s sleeping peacefully on her own.
I move before I can think better of it.
Quietly and carefully, I cross the nest to get to her.
I kneel by her side, the mattress dipping beneath my weight as I brush a few tangled strands of hair from where they’re stuck to the side of her face.
She’s so pale, with dark shadows beneath her closed eyes, but there’s a small smile resting on her soft pink lips.
I press my hand to her forehead, relief filling me. She’s no longer damp with fever, no longer burning hotter than a furnace in winter.
I let my hand linger for just a second before sliding two fingers gently against the inside of her wrist.
Her pulse is steady, strong.
I count without meaning to.
One.
Two.
Three.
Her breathing is slow, deep, and unhurried. The frantic little whimpers she’d made every time the heat surged have gone.
Even her scent has settled—the sharp edge of instinct has softened into Cassidy again.
She’s sleeping—actually sleeping—and she’s okay.
We made it.
She made it.
None of us knew exactly what her first heat would do to her, or to us. She’s endured many of these, but this was our first.
We guessed.
We planned.
We prepared as best we could.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for what her first heat was really like, though. How much she’d take, how much she’d need.
How fucking empty my balls would feel after it.
But we got through it together. We met her needs and made sure she was comfortable.
Cassidy shifts with a sleepy little sigh, blindly reaching until her fingers brush mine.
She doesn’t wake but yanks her hand away.
I chuckle lightly. She’s completely done with her heat for sure.
I press a soft kiss to her forehead before leaning back against the padded wall of the nest, one leg stretched carefully between the scattered pillows.
She’s perfect.
I leave the nest as pale morning light starts pouring through the curtains, making my way down to the kitchen.
I put the kettle on and make myself a mug of coffee. I’m not sure whether it’s the smell that pulls the rest of my pack downstairs or the realisation that Cassidy’s done.
I loved watching her sleep, but I needed to look at something that wasn’t blankets.
Or cum.
Or bite marks and bruises.
The kitchen fills with the comforting sounds of normality, along with the smell of coffee and hot toast.
The kettle clicks off. Bread pops from the toaster. Someone—Evander—immediately steals a slice before I’ve even buttered it.
“Oi,” I snap, kicking his shin.
He looks at me around a mouthful. “Finders keepers. I’m fucking starving.”
“That’s not how kitchens work,” I snap.
“Says who?”
“Says the man who made his breakfast.”
He grins, entirely unrepentant.
Isaac wanders in next, his dark hair flattened on one side as he rubs sleep from his eyes and leans against the island. “Morning.”
“It is now he’s had caffeine,” Evander says, nodding towards me.
“I’ve had one sip.”
“You looked murderous before it,” Evander taunts.
“I always look murderous.”
He laughs, grabbing the bread from me and putting two more slices into the toaster.
“Sit,” he demands. “I’ve got this.”
“Fair since you also ate my slice,” I mutter, carrying my mug over to the kitchen island.
A shuffling noise behind them draws my attention.
Cassidy wanders in with Silas close behind her. His dark hair is all mussed, and the T-shirt stretched across his broad chest is the first he’s worn in nearly a week.
Cassie’s swallowed by one of my hoodies, sleeves hanging over her hands, hair sticking out in every conceivable direction.
Faint marks bloom across her neck and shoulders, and she still looks exhausted.
Her eyes drift around the kitchen, checking on each of us, before she smiles brightly.
“Good morning,” she says, taking short, careful steps towards the island.
Silas hovers behind her, as if scared she’s going to fall. I don’t blame him.
After the amount of sex she’s had this week, I’m surprised her body is functioning.
“Is everyone okay?” she asks.
We all look at her in surprise, and then Isaac snorts. Evander bursts out laughing, and I can’t help joining in. Even Silas is smirking down at her.
Cassidy blinks at all of us. “What’s so funny?”
“You,” Evander says, shaking his head. “If anyone should be asking that, little daisy, it’s us. You nearly shagged four grown men into needing medical intervention.”
She blushes, and if her lack of temperature isn’t a clue that her heat is over, this is.
After all the filthy things she’s said over the last few days, the things she’s done… she blushes at being reminded of it.
“I did not,” she says, horrified. Her hands cover her burning cheeks, and it’s the sweetest sight.
“You absolutely did,” Isaac replies. “I still can’t feel my legs.”
Her face turns scarlet. “I am so sorry.”
“Why are we apologising?” Silas demands, moving past her to sit at the counter.
Evander passes him a mug of coffee, and Silas thanks him with a nod.
Cassidy groans, burying her face in the sleeves of my hoodie. “I just… I, um, feel guilty?”
“Do not feel guilty,” I say firmly. “Or you’ll spend the morning after your heat struggling to sit because your ass is stinging.”
She whimpers, but not in desire.
“Come, sit,” Silas commands, gesturing at her usual seat.
She shuffles towards the island, awkwardly clambering onto her usual stool. I reach for her waist, but she leans away from my touch.
I know she’s only doing it because she’s overstimulated, but it’s still hard not to be able to help when she needs it.
“Want to know my favourite memory of your heat?” Evander asks.
Cassidy flushes. “I’m not sure I do.”
“Oh, don’t worry, it’s not sexual,” Evander says with a laugh. “You cried because I put the washing machine on and sat there in front of it the entire time it was on.”
“You prick,” I say, shaking my head. “We both know it was only your favourite moment because I was knotted with her and had to sit naked on the cold floor.”
Cassidy gasps. “We did not.”
“Oh, you did,” Isaac says with a laugh. “You weren’t yourself, shortcake, but honestly, I think I love Cassidy-in-heat.”
“I agree,” I say with a smile. “Now, have some tea and eat some toast. Evander’s slaving away on it.”
Evander winks at her, leaning across the island to place her usual mug between her covered hands.
She accepts it without arguing.
For so long, I’d convinced myself wanting this pack was selfish. That loving them would only end with someone getting hurt.
Instead, the kitchen fills with laughter, burnt toast, and Cassidy trying to defend herself against stories she can’t even remember.
I’d nearly thrown all of this away.
Thank fuck Silas didn’t let me.
EVANDER
I’d forgotten how much I missed having my whole pack in one room without anyone being in crisis.
Being surrounded by my pack, having us all here together… it’s everything.
We’re all milling around the kitchen because nobody’s in any rush to be anywhere else.
It’s been one hell of a week. Heat strips life back to the basics.
Eat. Sleep. Drink. Look after your omega.
Repeat until we’ve got no cum left to give her and she’s finally satisfied.
I’d do it again tomorrow without hesitation. Preferably after a decent night’s sleep, at least, but I’m not complaining.
It’s been the most fantastic week of my life.
I slide another couple of slices into the toaster before buttering the fresh toast, the counter already cluttered with mugs, plates and half-open jars.
Cassidy’s sipping at her tea, but she’s barely nibbled the toast I’ve put in front of her. She’s moving gingerly, like it hurts to move.
Worth it.
Probably.
She’s drinking without being reminded, though, which is a win for me.
I clock the empty glass of water beside Harlan and snatch it from the table, refilling it before putting it back beside him.
Isaac’s tea is going cold because he’s too busy smiling into his toast, so I put the kettle back on so I can make him a fresh mug.
I top Harlan’s coffee up while he’s distracted watching Cassidy laugh at something Silas mutters under his breath, then quietly swap Isaac’s mug for a fresh one before he notices.
Neither of them says anything, but they don’t need to.
Normally, this is Silas’s role. But after the last week, he deserves the break too.
I can cook. I can take care of my pack. I can make sure they’ve got what they need.
The toast pops up again, and I butter the slices before adding them to the plate in the centre of the island.
I move the jam closer to Isaac and grab the chocolate spread for myself.
Cassidy looks up through sleep-heavy green eyes, and that soft little smile still hits me square in the chest as I slide onto the stool beside her.
“Thank you for taking care of us,” she murmurs.
“No worries, little daisy.”
She tears off a tiny piece of her toast before looking around the room again.
Not anxiously, but just making sure her pack are still where she left them.
Everyone’s eating. Everyone’s smiling.