Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Sierra
I’m nesting.
The moment I see the master bedroom, my omega lights up like a Christmas tree. Huge bed. Soft linens. Ocean view. Multiple pillows. A closet that probably has extra blankets.
Perfect.
I don’t even try to fight it. What’s the point? I’m going into heat in a house full of alphas. I might as well have one thing that makes me feel better.
The decorative pillows are the first to go.
Too stiff, wrong texture, completely useless.
I toss them onto the chair in the corner and start rearranging the actual pillows, plus the ones I brought.
Two behind me for back support. One on each side for barriers.
The body pillow goes along the edge. Yes, that’s perfect.
The duvet needs to be fluffier. I shake it out, letting it poof up before draping it across the pillows. My throw blanket is soft and has a good weight to it. That goes at the foot of the bed, where I can pull it up if I need it.
“Better,” I murmur, stepping back to survey my work.
But it’s not quite right yet.
I grab the extra duvet from the closet. It’s white and plush and exactly what I need. I arrange it in the center of the bed, creating a little cocoon of softness. My hands smooth over the fabric, adjusting, perfecting.
There.
I should probably be embarrassed about giving in to my biology so easily. But honestly? Building a nest is one of the few things that actually helps when pre-heat anxiety hits. It’s soothing. Meditative.
And it’s not like the Knightley Pack is going to see it. This is my room. My space. My nest.
I move to the dresser, unpacking my bag and humming a tune to distract myself. Clothes in drawers. Toiletries in the bathroom. Everything in its place, everything organized, everything —
A burst of scent hits me from under the door.
Alpha.
Four alphas, to be precise, and without scent blockers, I can smell them clearly. Usually, they’d be wearing scent blockers for business, but here? They’re unmasked. And in my pre-heat state, my senses are so dialed in that I can pick apart the layers instantly.
Dax smells like burned caramel and black cherry liqueur. Something rich and reckless that makes my omega want to either submit or fight. I’m voting for fight.
Malik is cooler, like vanilla ice-cream, crisp and steady, the kind of scent you crave when you need comfort.
Jalen is warm, a cozy, fireside scent that reminds me of autumn nights and safety. It’s the kind of sweetness that sticks to your ribs. It’s... comforting, actually, which is annoying.
And Cole? He smells like cinnamon-glazed pecans, all heat and sugar, the kind of scent that would make any omega’s mouth water. And I hate that mine just did.
The worst part?
Their combined scent isn’t terrible.
It should be overwhelming. Four alphas in an enclosed space should smell like a territory war waiting to happen. But instead, their scents somehow blend into something that’s almost... harmonious?
That’s why they’re a pack. They’re meant to fit together.
And my traitorous omega is very interested in that.
“No,” I tell her firmly. “Absolutely not. We are not interested. They are the enemy. They stole the Sterling wedding.”
My omega doesn’t care about the Sterling wedding.
My omega cares that there are four strong, healthy alphas in very close proximity and I’m about to go into heat.
“We are in control,” I mutter, grabbing another pillow and aggressively fluffing it. “We are a modern, independent omega who doesn’t need a pack of alphas. We have our own business. We have a five-year plan. We have—”
A knock at the door makes me freeze mid-fluff.
“Sierra?” It’s Malik’s voice, all professional and courteous. “We’re ordering dinner. Do you have any dietary restrictions we should know about?”
I open the door a crack, very aware that I probably look like a mess. “I’m fine. I have my cinnamon rolls.”
“You can’t survive on cinnamon rolls,” he says, and there’s something almost amused in his expression. “We’re getting Thai food from a place in town that’s still delivering before the storm hits. Spring rolls, pad Thai, green curry. You should eat something substantial.”
My stomach chooses that exact moment to growl, betraying me completely.
Malik’s lips twitch. “I’ll take that as a yes. Any allergies?”
“No,” I mutter. “And... thank you.”
He nods and heads back down the hall. I close the door and lean against it, taking a deep breath.
This is fine. I can handle this. It’s just dinner. Then tomorrow they’ll leave and—
Thunder crashes outside, loud enough to rattle the windows.
I move to look out at the ocean. The waves are already getting rough, white-capped, and angry. The sky is a bruised purple-gray, and the wind is picking up.
This is going to be a bad storm.
Which means I might be stuck with the Knightley Pack for more than just one night.
I return to my nest and try very hard not to think about what that means for an omega going into heat.
Cole
“I’m going to kill someone at that rental company,” Dax announces, pacing the length of the living room like a caged bear. “This is unacceptable.”
“It’s done,” Malik says, rummaging through his bag. “We deal with it.”
“Deal with it? We’re stuck in a house with Sierra fucking Smith. The same Sierra Smith who told every vendor in Sweetwater City that we were ‘unethical corporate raiders.’”
“To be fair,” I point out from my position sprawled on the couch, “we did poach three of her best vendors.”
“That’s business,” Dax snaps.
“That’s what I said! She didn’t seem to agree.”
Jalen is quiet, sitting on the window seat and staring out at the darkening ocean. He’s been quiet since we arrived, which isn’t unusual. Jalen’s always been the quiet observer in our pack. But there’s something tense in his shoulders.
“You okay?” I ask him.
He doesn’t answer immediately. Then: “Did she seem... off to you?”
“Off how?” Malik looks up from his bag.
“I don’t know. Flushed. Jumpy. Her scent was...” He trails off, frowning.
“Her scent was what?” Dax has stopped pacing.
“Sweet,” Jalen says finally. “Warm. Like...” He shakes his head. “Never mind.”
But I’m already putting the pieces together. The flushed skin. The stress baking. The way she claimed the master bedroom immediately, the territorial edge to her voice.
“Oh shit,” I say, sitting upright.
Three pairs of eyes turn to me.
“She’s going into heat.”
Silence.
Then Dax starts pacing again, faster this time. “No. No, no, no. This is not happening.”
“It makes sense,” Malik says slowly, and I can practically see his analytical brain working through the evidence. “The private rental. The week off. The defensiveness about needing space.”
“The stress baking,” I add. “That’s textbook pre-heat behavior.”
“So, what do we do?” Jalen asks.
“We leave,” Dax says immediately. “First thing tomorrow, storm or no storm. We are not staying in a house with an omega in heat.”
“The weather report said the storm is getting worse.” Malik pulls out his phone, scrolling. “Hurricane-force winds expected. Coastal flooding. They’re already talking about road closures.”
“How long?” I ask, though I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know the answer.
“Three to four days minimum before it’s safe to travel.”
“Perfect,” Dax says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just perfect. We’re going to be stuck in a beach house with Sierra Smith while she goes into heat during a major storm. Is there anything else that can go wrong?”
As if in answer, the lights flicker.
“Don’t,” Malik warns. “Don’t even joke about—”
The lights flicker again, then hold.
Malik glances at the woven fixture, frowning. “We should charge our devices while we can.”
“We should also talk to her,” Jalen says. “Make sure she knows we know. Make sure she’s... prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” Dax asks. “It’s not like we can do anything about it. She’s not our omega. She doesn’t even like us.”
“She should still know that we’re aware of the situation,” Malik says. “So we can all make informed decisions about how to handle the next few days.”
“Who’s going to tell her?” Jalen asks.
We all look at each other.
“Not it,” Dax says immediately.
“I should probably focus on finding us alternative accommodation,” Malik says, which is code for ‘absolutely not.’
Jalen just raises his eyebrows at me.
“Why me?” I protest.
“Because you’re the least threatening,” Jalen says simply.
“Hey!”
“He means you’re the most approachable,” Malik clarifies. “You have... people skills.”
“People skills,” I repeat. “She accused me of being a corporate shark at the last event planning conference.”
“You smiled at her and told her ‘all’s fair in love and weddings,’“ Malik points out.
“I was being charming!”
“She threw a napkin at you.”
“An embroidered napkin,” I correct. “Very nice quality. I think it was from her Sterling pitch presentation, actually.”
Dax makes a sound that might be a laugh or might be a growl. “Just go. You’re better at this stuff than the rest of us. And for the love of God, don’t flirt with her.”
“I don’t flirt with everyone.”
“Yes, you do,” all three of them say in unison.
“That’s... actually fair,” I admit. “Fine. I’ll go talk to her. But I’m not doing it empty-handed. That’s just rude.”
I head to the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets until I find what I’m looking for.
There’s a kettle, thank God, and tea bags in several varieties.
Chamomile seems like a safe bet. There are also some crackers and a block of fancy cheese she must have bought.
I figure she won’t mind if I bring it back to her as a peace offering.
While the water heats, I plate up a little snack arrangement. Nothing fancy, just something that says, “I come in peace” without being weird about it.
“That’s actually thoughtful,” Malik says from the doorway, sounding surprised.
“I do occasionally think about other people’s needs.”
“Occasionally,” he agrees with a slight smile.
The kettle whistles, and I pour the water over the tea bag, letting it steep. The scent of chamomile fills the kitchen. Soothing, neutral, and non-threatening.
“Wish me luck,” I say, picking up the tray.
“Don’t make it worse,” Dax calls from the other room.
“You have so much faith in me.”
I make my way down the hall toward the master bedroom, very aware that I’m about to have one of the most awkward conversations of my life. The smart thing would be to just leave her alone, let her deal with this in private.
But Jalen is right. She needs to know that we know, so she’s not wasting energy trying to hide it.
I knock on her door, balancing the tray.
Time to see if my people skills are actually worth anything.