29. Koa
Koa
Waking up alone is starting to piss me off. It’s not just the cold sheets or the fact that my nest feels emptier than it should—it’s that everything smells like them . Like safety, like home, and yet they’re never fucking here when I open my eyes. My Omega whines in frustration and I press a pillow to my face to muffle the sound.
But then the smell of pancakes hits me, sweet and buttery and irresistible, and all my irritation melts away. I groan, dragging myself out of bed, every muscle in my body aching. It’s not the worst I’ve ever felt, but it’s close. A shower helps, though, the hot water soothing my stiff limbs and washing away the stickiness of sleep. When I step out, my skin is warm, my curls pulled up into a little bun and I grab the first thing I see—one of their shirts crumpled on the floor. It’s oversized, the hem brushing my thighs, and it smells like them which makes it perfect.
I stumble into the kitchen, my legs wobbly, the promise of pancakes pulling me forward. They’re all there, of course, standing around like gods of chaos in their perfectly messy glory. No shirts, just miles of bare skin and rippling muscle. Amel’s flipping pancakes, Hunter’s leaning against the counter, and Moses is drinking coffee, his hair still damp from a shower. They look up in unison when I walk in, their gazes heavy and warm, and I should say something— Good morning, hello, nice abs —but then it happens.
A whine tears from my throat as a rush of slick floods between my thighs. My legs give out and I crumple right there on the kitchen floor, clawing at the tile as my body betrays me. It’s humiliating. It’s excruciating. I’d laugh if I wasn’t in so much fucking pain.
“Shit,” Amel curses, dropping the spatula as he practically lunges toward me. “Koa.”
Everything’s a blur after that. Hunter’s cursing, Moses is barking orders, and all three of them are moving around like their lives depend on it. Someone grabs a blanket, another grabs water, and then I’m being lifted, strong arms cradling me against a broad chest. I don’t even bother looking up. I know it’s Moses—his scent unmistakable.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice soft but strained. “I’ve got you.”
I let out a shaky breath, burying my face against his neck as he carries me back to the bedroom. My body’s on fire, heat coursing through me in relentless waves, and all I can do is claw at the shirt sticking to my skin. My nails catch on the fabric, tearing at it, but it doesn’t help. The ache is too much, too deep, and I can’t think, can’t breathe—can’t do anything but feel it.
“Sweet girl,” Amel’s voice cuts through the haze. He’s right there, crouched beside me on the bed, his hands gentle as they stop mine from shredding the shirt. “Let me help you, okay? Just let us take care of you.”
I whimper, my eyes squeezing shut as another cramp tears through my stomach, doubling me over. His hands are warm and steady, as he eases me out of the shirt, and I let him, too far gone to fight. The cool air brushes against my overheated skin, but it’s not enough to soothe the burn.
I curl into a tight ball, pulling my knees to my chest as panic starts clawing its way up my throat. My breaths come too fast, my chest heaving as the walls seem to close in around me. It’s too much— everything’s too much—and I can’t stop shaking, can’t stop the flood of fear crashing over me.
Amel’s hand is on my back, bringing me back from the panic trying to drag me under. “Koa,” he says, his tone calm even though I can hear the worry underneath. “Sweet girl, listen to me. Take a deep breath. Just one, okay? You’re safe. You’re here with us. It’s not like before.”
His words break through the storm, but they don’t stop the tears streaming down my face. “I’m so scared,” I choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. “Amel, I’m so scared.”
His hand moves to cup my face, tilting my head so I have no choice but to look at him. “You don’t have to be scared,” he says softly, his thumb brushing away the tears on my cheek. “We’ve got you, Koa. I promise you, we’ll take good care of you. You won’t hurt.”
“Promise me,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Please, Amel. Promise me.”
His face softens, and he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Always,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my skin. “I promise you, sweet girl. Always.”
I give into my Omega, my heat crashing into me until I’m just a mess of slick and whines, my body craving what only they can give me. The fear is still there but Amel promised me I wouldn’t hurt, that they won’t hurt me and gods, I want so badly to trust them.