Chapter 25
Gabe
The apartment smells like her. Too much. Too heavy.
Heat-laced pheromones crawl across my skin like a fever, making the air thick, hard to swallow. Shepard’s working like hell to keep her cooled down, damp cloth against her temples, whispering calm words, while I pace the corner like a caged animal, mug of tea clutched in my hands.
It’s not helping. Nothing about this feels manageable.
I take a sip just to occupy my mouth, to keep from grinding my teeth down. The tea is bitter, over-steeped, but it anchors me for a second. Shepard looks up from where he’s swapping out the cloth in a bowl of melted ice water.
“How bad was it?” he asks, his voice quieter than usual. “The pile-up.”
I exhale through my nose, forcing myself to focus. “Bad. Six cars. Two pinned. But other towns are sending crews—Elmhurst, Fairview. We’ll manage.”
His brow furrows, glasses sliding down his nose. He nudges them back with the edge of his wrist, careful not to let go of Sadie’s hand. “I know it must’ve taken a lot for you to come here. Despite everything.”
I glance away, muttering, “She’s worth it.”
And she is. No matter how much tension burns between me and Boone, no matter how fractured things have gotten with my brothers, Sadie is the one thing we all agree on. Protect her. Always.
Before I can think of what else to say, she stirs.
Her lashes flutter, her breathing quickens, and then she’s sitting up, the blanket falling to her lap. Her eyes are glassy, her cheeks flushed too bright.
“Where’s Boone?” Her voice cracks, urgent, raw.
Shepard leans in, steady. “He went to get something suppressants for you. He’ll be back soon.”
Her body shivers and I watch as understanding dawns on her. She shakes her head hard, hair sticking to her damp temples. “No. That’s impossible. I can’t— I can’t be in heat.” Her voice edges sharp with panic. “The meds keep it down. It’s not supposed to happen.”
Her breathing picks up, chest rising and falling too fast. Agitation bleeds from her pores, and the scent only sharpens, wrapping tighter around the room. I feel it dig under my skin, making my pulse spike, my jaw clench.
“Sadie.” I force my voice calm, the way I use on victims in shock. “You’re safe. We’ve got you.”
She stares at us, wild-eyed, like she’s searching for something solid to hold onto.
“Listen,” Shepard says, glasses catching the lamplight as he pushes them up again. “A cold shower can help. It won’t fix it, but it’ll cool you down, give you a break.”
She nods quickly, too quickly. “Okay. Yeah. Shower.”
Shepard rises, offering his hand, and I watch the way she grips it like it’s the only rope pulling her back from the edge. My stomach knots—not because I don’t trust him, but because I wish it was me she reached for. And I hate myself for it.
As they move toward the bedroom, I shift my weight, pressing the heel of my hand against my crotch. It’s involuntary, a shameful reflex I can’t stop.
My cock’s half-hard, not from desire I chose but from pheromones sinking their claws into me. The scent coils through every nerve, forcing reactions I don’t want. Disgust curdles in my gut. I hate myself for even noticing.
The door clicks shut behind them. I sit back on the couch, tea cooling in my grip. The minutes stretch long, broken only by the muffled sound of the shower turning on.
Shepard comes out after a few minutes, damp hair curling at his temple, tension radiating from every line of him. He leans against the doorframe, tugging his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“She’s showering,” he says, voice low.
I nod. “Seems like you’ve got things under control. Maybe I should—”
“Don’t.” His head snaps up, eyes sharp. “Don’t leave me like this.”
The edge in his voice makes me still. “Why?”
His mouth tightens, glasses dangling from his fingers. “Because I’m not sure how long I can keep it together, Gabe. Her need—” He swallows, shakes his head. “I don’t know how to resist.”
The honesty rattles me. Shepard never admits weakness.
Before I can respond, a sound slices through the air.
A moan. Loud.
Both of us freeze.
Another follows, softer but just as sharp.
My pulse lurches. Shepard’s fingers twitch against his glasses, the only tell of how close he is to unraveling. The air in the room feels heavier, hotter.
We don’t speak. We don’t need to. We both know what she’s doing in there, and neither of us wants to admit it out loud.
“I’ll call Boone,” Shepard mutters, dragging himself toward the kitchen, phone already in hand. His voice is rough, like he’s scraping it raw just to stay calm.
I stay rooted to the couch, mug forgotten in my grip. Every instinct screams at me to move, but my body refuses. My head pounds with guilt and heat and shame.
The phone clicks, Shepard curses. “Voicemail.”
Before either of us can think of what to do next, the bathroom door opens.
Sadie steps out, wet hair plastered to her shoulders, a towel wrapped tight around her body. She’s shivering, skin flushed, eyes glassy but sharp with need.
“Where is Boone?” Her voice cuts the air, trembling, desperate.
I can’t stop my eyes from flicking downward, just for a split second—to her hand clenching at the edge of the towel, fingers twitching. My stomach twists.
Is it arousal? I don’t want to think it. I chastise myself immediately, hard. Don’t you dare, Gabe. Don’t you fucking dare.
Shepard turns back toward her, his restraint written in the stiff set of his jaw. “I tried to call. He didn’t answer. It’s going straight to voicemail.”
“Fuck,” she curses, pushing past him. The towel clings to her thighs as she moves into the bedroom, frustration bleeding from every step.
I find myself following before I realize I’ve moved. She’s rifling through the closet, hands shaking as she shoves hangers aside.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice harsher than I mean.
“I need to go home,” she snaps. “I need clothes. Where are my clothes?” Her voice cracks on the last word. I can practically see the desperation wafting off of her.
“Sadie, you need to try to calm down. It will only make things worse if you panic.”
She turns her eyes on me. “Don’t. Don’t tell me what to do, or think, or feel. Why are you even here? I know you’ve made it clear that you don’t want anything to do with me.”
Is that what she really thinks?
“Sadie,” I curse. I take a step forward and then stop myself. “I’m here because I was worried about you. I know I’ve been kind of a dick lately, but I promise that says more about me than you.”
Her lips part, like she wants to fire back, but instead a whimper slips out, unbidden, fragile.
“Are you okay?” My voice softens before I even think about it.
“Fuck!” she gasps, clutching the towel tighter against her body, her legs trembling beneath her.
“Sadie…”
Her head shakes violently. “Don’t take a step closer to me. Don’t. Because you smell good and it is fucking with my head, and I’m still so pissed at you, but I want to—” She cuts herself off, voice low, throaty, unrecognizable. “I don’t know what I want.”
Her confession rattles through me, unsteadying everything I’ve built up to keep myself apart from her.
“What’s going on?” Shepard’s voice slices the moment. We both turn. He’s standing in the doorway, phone pressed to his ear, eyes flicking between us.
“Nothing,” I lie, too fast. My jaw tightens. “Have you been able to reach Boone?”
He shakes his head, frustration tight in his features. “No. It connected, but immediately disconnected. I don’t get it.”
Sadie moans suddenly, louder this time, and then her knees buckle.
Both of us lunge at once, instincts overriding sense. We catch her under the arms, pulling her upright before she collapses completely. Her skin is burning, fever pouring off her in waves. She whimpers again, head rolling toward my shoulder.
“Bed,” Shepard snaps, taking the lead, and together we guide her onto the mattress.
Her towel slips. It falls away before either of us can stop it, pooling at her waist. My gut twists. Shepard’s quicker than I am—he yanks a sheet up, covering her before the sight can undo me completely.
“Sadie, take a deep breath,” he instructs firmly, voice coaxing, steady in a way mine isn’t. “It’ll help.”
Her chest heaves, breaths shallow, broken. I want to believe his words will anchor her, but I can see in the glazed look of her eyes that she’s barely tethered at all.
“I’ll get her water,” Shepard says, straightening.
“I’ll go,” I growl, more out of the need to move than anything. My body’s a knot of restless heat, shame pressing against my ribs.
“I’ll do it,” Shepard insists, already heading for the door. “And I’ll try Boone again.”
That leaves me. Alone with her.
Her hand twitches against the sheet. “Can you… help me lie down?”
My throat works, tight. “Yeah.”
I slip an arm behind her shoulders, easing her back against the pillows. She shifts, fingers brushing my forearm. Electricity zips through me at the contact, raw and unwelcome, sparking every nerve.
“Sadie,” I whisper, torn between pulling away and leaning closer.
Her eyes open, her pupils wide and unfocused, but her voice is clear enough. “Why do you smell so fucking good?”
Heat licks down my spine. I shouldn’t let her pull me closer, shouldn’t even breathe the same air, but I can’t help the way my hand lifts, fingertips grazing the curve of her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, voice rough. “I was staying away. That was me, not you.”
Her hand rises, small and trembling, and drags mine over her lips. The soft press of her mouth against my skin makes my chest seize.
A droplet of water slides from her hair, down the curve of her neck. My eyes track it before I can stop myself. The shame hits hot—I’m a protector, Boone’s brother. And still, the raw urge to lean down and lick that drop is so strong it stuns me.
“Gabe,” she whispers, eyes fluttering half-shut.
“Yes,” I answer, voice breaking against the single syllable.
She moves my hand lower, down the column of her throat. Her breathing stutters, uneven, like every touch sparks something unbearable inside her.
“What are you doing?” My voice is hoarse, caught between warning and want.
“I don’t know,” she admits, raw and desperate. “But your hand is rough, and it feels so good on my skin.”
I can barely swallow, the lump in my throat heavy as stone. She drags my hand farther, until my thumb presses against the flutter of her pulse.
“I’m so horny,” she confesses, voice slurred with heat, eyes glazed over.
“I know,” I whisper back, heart hammering. “Boone will be here soon.”
It’s a promise, a plea, a lifeline I’m clinging to even as my own cock twitches in my pants, betraying me.
The sound of someone clearing their throat snaps me back.
Shepard stands in the doorway again, a glass of water in one hand, phone in the other. His eyes lock on me, sharp, and I see the restraint there, the same battle I’m fighting. He knows. He understands.
I slump back, defeated, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor beside the bed, my head leaning back against the frame.
“I got through to Boone,” Shepard says, voice tight but even. He extends the phone toward her, glass in his other hand. “Will you talk to him?”
Sadie nods weakly, her hands shaking as she takes the water and then the phone. Her voice is barely a whisper as she says his name.
I close my eyes for half a second, dragging air into my lungs. This is the line. We can’t cross it. She’s Boone’s, she’s our responsibility, she’s more than the pull of scent and fever.
But God help me—every second I’m in this room, I understand why it’s so easy to lose control.