Chapter 10 #2
I can feel heat rushing to my face, and not the good kind. This is pure mortification. Because I hadn’t even thought about that, but now that he’s mentioned it, I can’t stop thinking about it.
They’re going to hear me. Every sound, every gasp, every helpless noise my body is going to make, whether I want it to or not.
And I’m going to hear them.
Four alphas in rut. The sounds they’ll make. The growls and groans and—
I catch Cole watching me, and there’s something in his expression that tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking. His blue eyes are darker than usual, hungry, and when he shifts position again, I can see the obvious bulge in his shorts.
My omega practically purrs.
“Music,” Malik says quickly, mercifully cutting off that train of thought. His voice is strained. “We can use speakers. White noise. Whatever masks sound best.”
“I have a pretty good playlist,” Cole offers, and his cheeks are slightly pink too. At least I’m not the only one dying of embarrassment here. “Bluetooth speakers. We could set up a rotation.”
“That’s actually a good idea,” I manage to say, even though my voice sounds slightly strangled.
“I try,” Cole says with a hint of his usual grin.
Then, because he apparently can’t help himself, his eyes drag over me in a way that makes me feel naked.
“Though I gotta say, this is not how I imagined spending time with a beautiful omega. Usually there’s more dinner and dancing, less tropical storms.”
“Cole,” Dax warns, but there’s a roughness to his voice that wasn’t there before.
“What? I’m just saying—ow!” He rubs his ribs where Dax just elbowed him, but he’s still grinning at me in a way that makes heat pool low in my belly.
But I’m laughing. I can’t help it. It’s inappropriate and terrible timing and probably some kind of heat-induced hysteria, but I’m laughing.
“Sorry,” Cole says, though he doesn’t look particularly sorry. His eyes are still on me, tracking the way my chest moves with each laugh. “Inappropriate?”
“Very,” Jalen confirms, though even he’s fighting a smile.
“But funny,” I add, wiping at my eyes. “At least we can keep our sense of humor about this.”
“It’s either laugh or cry,” Malik says dryly, though his knuckles are strained where he’s gripping his phone. “I prefer laughing.”
“Noted for your file,” I say without thinking.
He raises an eyebrow. “My file?”
“Your psychological profile. I’m building one for each of you.” Oh God, why am I telling them this?! “It’s what I do when I’m nervous. Analyze people, figure out what makes them tick.”
“And what does my file say?” Malik asks, and there’s genuine curiosity in his voice. Also heat. Definite heat in the way he’s looking at me.
“That you cope with stress through information gathering and problem-solving. That you value structure and clear communication. That your room would probably be incredibly organized. Probably have your shirts color-coded in your wardrobe.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“The shirts are organized by frequency of use, actually,” Malik says.
Cole snorts. “Oh my God, you do organize your shirts.”
“It’s practical.” Malik shrugs
“It’s adorable,” I say, and immediately regret it when Malik’s eyes snap to mine.
There’s something in his gaze. All heat and interest and alpha want that makes my omega sit up and take notice. His scent spikes, that vanilla ice-cream intensifying until I can almost taste it. I can see the way his chest rises and falls, the way his pupils have dilated.
He wants me. They all want me.
And God help me, I want them too.
I look away quickly, my heart pounding.
Right. No flirting. No encouraging. No anything that might make this situation more complicated than it already is.
Another wave hits, stronger this time. I bite down on my lip to keep from making a sound, but I can’t stop the way my body responds. The flush that spreads across my skin. The slight catch in my breathing. More slick. God, I’m going to soak through my underwear at this rate.
“Sierra?” Dax’s voice is sharp, concerned, but also rough with barely restrained need.
“I’m fine,” I say automatically. “Just... heat wave. It’ll pass.”
But I’m not fine. My hands are shaking. There’s slick gathering between my thighs, and I know they can smell it. I can see it in the way they’re all holding themselves so carefully still, like one wrong move and something’s going to break.
Dax’s hands are clenched so tight I think he might be drawing blood with his nails.
Cole has gone completely rigid, his jaw tight.
Malik’s phone has dimmed in his hand because he’s stopped moving entirely.
Jalen is staring at the wall like it holds the secrets of the universe, but I can see the tension in every line of his body.
They’re hard. All of them. Fighting it. Fighting the urge to come to me, to help me, to claim me.
I dig my nails into the armrest instead, using the pain to ground myself.
“We should get you back to your room,” Dax says, and it’s not a suggestion. It’s an order wrapped in concern, alpha command bleeding through despite his obvious effort to control it. His voice has dropped lower, rougher, and it does things to me that are absolutely not helpful right now.
My omega wants to obey. Wants to submit to that tone, to do what the alpha says, to let him take care of me.
My rational brain wants to argue, to insist I’m fine, to maintain some dignity.
The compromise is me nodding stiffly and pushing myself out of the chair on shaking legs.
“Right,” I say, proud that my voice is mostly steady. “I can manage to go back alone.” I release a slow breath. “So, we have a plan. Separation. Meals outside doors. Emergency whistles. Music for... noise management.”
“We’ll make it work,” Jalen says gently, but his voice is strained. “It’s not ideal, but we’re all adults. We can handle this.”
“Agreed,” I say, even though I’m not entirely sure I believe it.
I make it three steps toward the hallway before I have to stop and brace myself against the wall. Everything is spinning slightly. Too hot. Too much sensation. Too many alpha scents making my omega cry out for things I can’t have.
“Sierra—” Dax is moving toward me, and I can hear the restraint in every movement. Like he’s fighting himself with every step.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, holding up a hand to stop him. “Just need a second.”
He stops, but every line of his body is tense, coiled, ready to move if I show any sign of actually falling. His eyes are dark, almost black, and the way he’s looking at me makes me feel like prey.
It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
I take a breath. Then another. Force my legs to work.
“This situation isn’t ideal,” Dax says, his voice rough. “But we’ll manage. We’ll all get through this.”
I look back at him and then at all of them.
They want me. I can see it in their eyes, smell it in their scents, feel it in the electric tension that fills the room.
And I want them too. God, I want them.
They’re good men. Really good men.
Which somehow makes this harder.
“We’re all adults,” I agree, echoing Jalen’s words. “We can handle this.”
I make myself walk down the hallway with as much dignity as I can muster. One foot in front of the other. Don’t look back. Don’t think about how good they smell. Don’t think about how much your omega wants to turn around and—
I make it to my door and slip inside, closing it firmly behind me.
The relative quiet of my room is both a relief and a torture. I can still smell them. Their scents have permeated everything. But at least here I don’t have to pretend to be in control. Don’t have to maintain the facade of being fine when everything is very much not fine.
I lean back against the door and let myself slide down to the floor.
My nest is calling to me. The same nest my omega has been building and rebuilding obsessively. I should go to it. Should curl up and try to ride out the heat wave that’s currently making my entire body shake.
But I stay where I am, back pressed against the door, listening.
I can hear them moving around in the living room. Low voices. I can’t make out words, but I can hear the cadence. Malik’s measured tones. Dax’s rough growl. Jalen’s softer inflection. Cole’s occasional comment, though it sounds strained.
We’re all trying so hard.
A week. We have to survive possibly a week of this.
I close my eyes and try to convince myself it’s possible.
Try to ignore the way my body is aching for them.
Try to forget the hunger in their eyes.
Try not to think about what it would feel like to give in.
Dax
The moment Sierra’s door clicks shut, I feel like I can breathe again.
Sort of.
My cock is still hard enough to pound nails, and her scent is everywhere. Sweet honeycomb and cherry syrup, mixed with the unmistakable scent of slick. She’s wet. She’s in pre-heat and she’s wet, and every instinct I have is screaming at me to go to her, to help her, to claim her.
I dig my nails into my palms hard enough to hurt.
“That was...” Cole starts, then trails off, apparently unable to find the right word. He’s adjusting himself again, not even trying to hide it.
“Torture,” I finish for him, dropping onto the stool. My whole body is still vibrating with the need to follow her, to make sure she’s okay.
No. Stop. She’s fine. She made it to her room. She’s safe.
“She’s very strong,” Jalen says quietly, settling back onto the couch. His good hand is shaking slightly. “Most omegas in pre-heat wouldn’t be able to hold a coherent conversation, let alone establish ground rules and solve problems.”
“She’s not most omegas,” Malik mutters, staring at his phone though the screen is dim.
He’s right. Sierra is... different. Special. The kind of omega who psychologically profiles people as a coping mechanism, who organizes emergency meetings while in pre-heat, who maintains her sense of humor even when her biology is trying to tear her apart.
The kind of omega who looked at me with those eyes and made my alpha roar with the need to protect, to provide, to claim.
The kind of omega my alpha is convinced we need.
I shove that thought down so hard it should have hit the basement by now.
“Did you see...” Cole starts, then stops. Runs his hand through his hair. “Fuck. Her scent. I’ve never smelled anything like that.”
“Don’t,” I warn, but my voice comes out rough.
“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking,” Cole shoots back. “We’re all hard as rocks and pretending we’re not. Might as well be honest about it.”
“Being honest doesn’t help,” Jalen says, but he’s not wrong. We’re all fighting the same battle.
“Music,” I say abruptly, needing to focus on something practical before I lose my mind. “We should set that up now. Before it gets worse.”
“Agreed,” Cole says, already pulling out his phone. “I’ve got some ambient playlists. Rain sounds, ocean waves, that kind of thing.”
“Nothing too distracting,” Malik adds. “We still need to be able to hear emergency whistles.”
Leave it to Malik to think three steps ahead even when his hands are shaking.
We spend the next twenty minutes setting up speakers throughout the house. Cole’s Bluetooth system in the living room; Malik’s smaller speaker positioned in the hallway.
The whole time, I can smell her. That honeycomb sweetness mixed with slick. Complicated and intriguing, and absolutely devastating to my self-control.
Every time I walk past her door, my alpha practically roars.
“This is going to be the longest week of my life,” Cole says, echoing my thoughts exactly.
“Longest week,” I agree.
But we’ll survive it. We have to.
Because the alternative of losing control, crossing boundaries, or doing something Sierra doesn’t want is unthinkable.
Even if my alpha is convinced she wants us just as much as we want her. Even if I saw the way she looked at us, the heat in her eyes, the way her scent spiked with arousal.
Even if every fiber of my being is screaming that we need to break down that door and soothe her.
I look down the hallway toward her closed door and make myself a promise.
We’re going to get through this with boundaries intact and dignity somewhat preserved.
Even if it kills me.
Which it just might.