Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Malik
Iwake to the soft glow of the emergency lights and the feverish, sugary heat of omega so thick it feels like drowning.
For a moment, I’m disoriented. There’s warmth pressed against my side. Then memory floods back and I freeze.
Sierra.
Heat.
Everything that happened last night.
I turn my head slowly, careful not to wake anyone, and take in the scene around me.
We’re a tangle of limbs in the nest. Sierra is curled between Jalen and me, one of her hands pressed against my chest, the other stretched across to rest on Cole’s.
Dax is on her other side, one arm draped protectively over her hip.
We’ve unconsciously formed a protective circle around her even in sleep, our bodies instinctively shielding our omega.
Our omega.
The possessive thought should concern me. Sierra isn’t ours, not really. This is just heat and rut, biology and circumstance. In a few days, when the storm passes and her heat breaks, she’ll leave. Go back to her life. Probably never speak to us again.
The thought makes my chest tight.
I study her face in the dim light. She’s peaceful in sleep, all the tension smoothed away. Her lips are slightly parted, her breathing deep and even. There are faint marks on her throat from Dax’s mouth. Close enough to look like a claiming bite that makes my alpha rumble with satisfaction.
She’s beautiful.
I’ve always known she was attractive. You’d have to be blind not to notice Sierra Smith’s appeal. But this is different.
This is something that makes my chest do uncomfortable things. Something that feels dangerously close to attachment.
This feels too good to be just heat sex.
The realization hits me hard, and I have to close my eyes against it. This is supposed to be simple. Biological. Temporary. We’re helping her through heat because it’s the decent thing to do, because our ruts respond to her need, because we’re pack… and she is our…friend?
Except friends don’t usually make your heart stutter when they smile sleepily at you. Friends don’t usually make you want to wrap them up and keep them safe from everything. Friends don’t usually make you think about futures and possibilities you have no right to consider.
I’m in trouble.
We all are.
My mind drifts back without permission, pulling up a memory I’d rather forget.
Two years ago. The Sweetwater Event Planners Conference.
I’d just gotten off a panel about the Sweetwater Art Gala—this massive corporate thing we’d pulled off that had everyone talking. I was feeling good. Maybe too good.
That’s when I saw her.
She was in this little cluster of people, hands moving as she talked, completely animated. I caught fragments as I got closer. Something about a neighborhood festival, about bringing people together. Her whole face was lit up.
And the worst part? Her ideas were actually brilliant.
I stood there listening to her talk about creating connection, about events that mattered to communities, and something ugly twisted in my gut. Because she was good. Really good. And she was doing it differently than we were, and people were eating it up.
“Everything I plan starts from that premise,” she was saying. “Real connection. Not just pretty decorations and expensive food.”
The implied criticism of exactly what we’d just been celebrated for wasn’t lost on me.
When the group broke up and she turned, catching my eye, she smiled. Open. Friendly.
And I—God, I was such a dick.
“That’s a great starting point,” I said, and immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say. “But to scale up, you have to create those big, unforgettable moments. That’s what high-end clients are really paying for.”
I watched her face change. The warmth draining out of it. Her shoulders going back.
“I disagree,” she said, and her voice was steady, but I could see I’d hurt her. “I think people are desperate for something real. Not just another forgettable party.”
Forgettable. Like she was calling everything we did forgettable.
It burned.
“Good luck with that,” I said, already turning away.
I didn’t look back. Didn’t let myself see if she was still standing there. Just walked away like she wasn’t worth my time.
And the whole rest of that conference, I felt sick about it.
But I didn’t apologize. Didn’t seek her out. Just told myself she’d been na?ve, that I was right, that her little community events would never compete with what we were building.
Told myself anything except the truth: that I’d been threatened by someone who was just trying to do good work. That I’d lashed out because her passion made me feel like maybe we were missing something. That I’d been cruel because it was easier than admitting she might be right.
The memory makes me wince now. I’d been such a dick. And for what? Because her ideas were good? Because she’d threatened my what? My sense of superiority?
No wonder she’d been horrified to find herself stranded with us.
I’d earned every bit of her animosity.
The regret sits heavy in my chest, but then Sierra stirs against me, making a small sound that’s half-whimper, half-purr. Her hand flexes against my chest, fingers curling into my skin like she’s trying to hold on.
Even now, deep in her heat, she’s reaching for us. For me.
I don’t deserve it.
But God, I want to.
Her eyes flutter open, but they’re not quite focused. Pupils blown wide, that glassy heat-haze still there. She blinks slowly, like she’s trying to remember where she is.
“Shhh,” I murmur, running my hand through her hair. “You’re safe, omega. We’ve got you.”
“Alpha?” Her voice is small, uncertain. Vulnerable in a way that makes every protective instinct I have roar to life.
“Right here.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “How are you feeling?”
She makes a soft, confused sound, like the question is too complex. Her body shifts restlessly against mine. “I... don’t know. Everything’s... fuzzy.”
Around us, my brothers are starting to wake. I can feel Dax’s awareness sharpening behind Sierra, his arm tightening protectively around her hip. Cole’s breathing changes. Jalen shifts, immediately alert.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Dax rumbles, his voice still rough with sleep. “You with us?”
“Dax?” She turns her head toward him, movement slow and dreamlike. “I... yes? I think?”
“That’s okay,” he soothes. “You don’t have to think right now. Just feel. Can you tell us how you’re feeling?”
Sierra’s quiet for a long moment, her brows furrowing like she’s trying to process the question through layers of cotton. “Sore,” she finally manages. “But... good sore? And... warm. Everything’s warm.”
“Where are you sore, omega?” I ask gently, because we need to know. Need to make sure we didn’t hurt her, that she’s okay.
“Everywhere,” she mumbles, then makes a small, distressed sound. “My hip. From... before? I fell.”
Fuck. We’d been so focused on her heat that I’d almost forgotten about her injury. The way she’d crumpled trying to close that window.
“Cole,” I whisper, and he’s already moving, carefully extracting himself from the nest.
“On it,” he says, heading to the kitchen.
“Let me see, sweetheart,” Dax says, gently shifting Sierra so he can examine her hip. She whimpers at the movement, not quite pain but definitely discomfort.
There’s a dark bruise. Not as bad as it could be, but definitely not good either.
“We need to keep ice on this,” Dax says, his voice carrying that edge of concern.
“Hurts,” Sierra whimpers, and the sound goes straight through me.
“I know, omega,” I soothe, stroking her hair. “We’re going to take care of it. Going to take care of you.”
Cole returns with ice wrapped in a towel. “Here. This’ll help.”
Dax positions it carefully against her hip, and Sierra makes another small sound, but this one is relief.
“Better?” Jalen asks, propping himself up to see her face.
“Mm,” she hums, eyes already starting to drift closed again. “You keep... taking care of me.”
“Always,” I promise, and mean it more than I’ve meant anything. “That’s what we’re here for.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then her scent shifts slightly. Sweetens. “Need you,” she mumbles, the words slurred. “All of you. Alpha.”
The way she says it… ‘alpha’, singular, like we’re one entity… It makes my chest tight.
“We’re right here,” Cole assures her. “Not going anywhere.”
“No, I mean...” She shifts restlessly, a flush spreading across her cheeks. Even through the heat-haze, there’s embarrassment there. “I need... my heat’s...”
Her scent spikes sharply, honeycomb going thick and heady. Fresh slick pools between her thighs, and she makes a desperate little sound.
“Building again,” I finish for her, because she’s too far gone to articulate it properly. “We can smell it, omega. We know.”
“Please,” she whimpers, reaching for me with clumsy hands. “Please, it hurts. Make it stop hurting.”
“Shhh, we will,” I promise. “But first, you need to eat something.”
“Don’t want food,” she protests, but her voice is weak. “Want you.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Dax says gently, “but your body needs fuel. You’ve been burning through so much energy.”
Jalen’s already hopping out of bed. He returns with a breakfast plate filled with toast and fruit. “Just a few bites,” he coaxes. “Can you do that for us?”
Sierra makes a frustrated sound, but when Jalen holds a piece of toast to her lips, she takes it. Chews mechanically, like she’s going through the motions without really tasting it.
“Good girl,” Jalen praises softly. “Just a little more.”
She manages a few more bites before turning her head away, whimpering. “Can’t. Please, I can’t. I—”
Her words dissolve into a desperate keen as another wave hits. Her back arches, body trembling, and the scent of slick gets stronger.
“Okay,” I soothe, setting the plate aside. “Okay, omega. We hear you.”
“Hurts,” she sobs, and there are actual tears streaming down her face. “Alpha, please, it hurts so much.”
The sight of her in distress makes something primal surge in my chest. My rut snarls, demanding I fix this, take care of our omega, make the pain stop.
“We’ve got you,” I promise, moving to settle between her thighs. “Going to make it better now.”
She’s trembling, incoherent little pleas falling from her lips. “Need you, need you, please alpha, please—”
“I know what you need,” I tell her, my voice dropping into a register that makes her shiver. “Shhh. No more begging. You’re mine to handle now.”
I look at my brothers, checking in. Cole nods, moving to support Sierra’s injured hip carefully. Jalen positions himself near her head, ready to comfort. Dax stays close to her side, one hand stroking soothingly through her hair.
I lower my head, pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs. She’s already soaked, slick coating her thighs, and the scent of her makes my mouth water.
“Please,” she begs, barely coherent. “Please please please—”
The first touch of my tongue makes her cry out sharply, her whole body jerking. I hold her steady and focus on learning every response, every sound that means I’m hitting the right spot.
She’s not talking anymore. Can’t form words. Just desperate keens and whimpers and broken attempts at my name that sound more like “alpha” than anything else.
“That’s right,” I murmur against her. “That’s how my omega should sound. Completely undone for me.”
Above me, I can hear Dax’s soothing rumble, Jalen’s gentle words. We’re surrounding her, giving her everything she needs.
When I circle her clit with my tongue, she sobs. When I add pressure, she practically screams.
I work her. Every lick and suck designed to push her higher. Her thighs are trembling, her whole body tight with building tension.
“Let go,” I command against her. “Come for your alpha, omega.”
And she does.
Her orgasm crashes through her, and she’s sobbing, shaking, making these broken, desperate sounds that are barely human.
I gentle my touches, working her through it, pressing soft kisses to her trembling thighs as she comes down. Her breathing is ragged, chest heaving, and she’s still making these small whimpering sounds.
But when I look up at her face, her eyes are clearer. Not completely lucid, the heat-haze is still there, but she’s more present than she was moments ago.
“Better?” I ask softly, crawling up to settle beside her.
She nods shakily, one hand reaching up to touch my face like she’s making sure I’m real. “I... yeah. I can... think a little.”
“Good,” Dax murmurs, still stroking her hair. “That’s good, sweetheart.”
Sierra’s quiet for a moment, her breathing gradually slowing. The desperate edge to her scent has eased, though it’s still thick with heat. Still sweet and heady enough to make my rut growl low in my chest.
But it’s manageable now. For her and for us.
“This is weird,” she whispers suddenly, her voice still rough and slightly slurred. Her eyes move between us, unfocused but trying. “Few days ago, I was... scowling. Just thinking about your faces.”
The words are halting, like she’s struggling to string them together through the fog, but the meaning comes through clear enough.
“And today?” Jalen asks gently, his hand moving to caress her belly.
She’s quiet for a long moment, her brow furrowing like she’s trying to find the right words. “Today I don’t... I don’t know what you are.”
The raw honesty in her voice makes something constrict in my chest.
“We’re whatever you want us to be,” I hear myself say. “For now.”
For now.
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with everything unsaid. For now, while her heat lasts. For now, while we’re stuck sheltering from the storm together. For now, while biology is making choices we might not make otherwise.
But after?
Sierra’s eyes drift closed, exhaustion pulling at her. “For now,” she echoes, so softly I almost don’t hear it. “Okay.”
Her body goes lax against us, not quite asleep but deeply relaxed. The trembling has stopped. Her scent, while still sweet with heat, has lost that sharp, desperate edge.
We’ve given her what she needed. Just enough to let her rest, to give her body a chance to recover before the next wave builds.
“She’s going to need water,” Cole says quietly, “and more food when she wakes up.”
“I’ll get it,” Jalen offers, carefully extracting himself from the nest.
Dax adjusts Sierra’s position slightly, retrieving the ice pack that had shifted during the chaos and settling it back against her hip. She makes a small sound of protest at being moved, but doesn’t wake.
The nest is warm and quiet, filled with the mingled scents of all of us.
It smells like pack.
And for now?
For now, that’s enough.