Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sierra
Iwake slowly, my brain swimming through layers of fog like I’m surfacing from deep water.
Everything feels heavy. My limbs are lead weights. My eyelids might as well be made of concrete. Even thinking requires effort, like my thoughts are moving through molasses.
For a moment, I just lie there, trying to remember where I am. Why everything feels so strange?
Then it hits me in fragments.
My heat week retreat. The storm. The window. The Knightley pack—
Oh god.
Oh god oh god oh god.
Memory floods back in broken pieces. Heat-haze images that feel more like fever dreams than reality, but I know they’re real. I know they happened.
I went into heat.
With the Knightley pack.
Trapped in this beach house.
And I... I invited them into my nest. I let them... we... they...
The memories are disjointed. Blurry around the edges. But some flashes are crystal clear. Dax’s low and commanding voice. Malik’s mouth on me. Cole’s hands. Jalen’s soft words. All of them surrounding me, touching me, taking care of me.
Knotting me.
My face burns so hot I’m surprised the pillow doesn’t catch fire.
This can’t be real. This has to be some kind of heat-induced hallucination. There’s no way I actually spent two days letting the Knightley pack help me through my heat.
Except I can feel it in my body. The pleasant ache deep inside. The tenderness between my thighs. The way my muscles feel like overcooked noodles, thoroughly used and completely wrung out.
It happened.
All of it.
I keep my eyes firmly closed, my breathing carefully even, because I am absolutely not ready to face this yet. Not ready to open my eyes and see them looking at me with... what? Regret? Pity? That awkward morning-after energy multiplied by four?
What do you even say to a pack of alphas who just spent two days fucking you through your heat?
Thanks for the assist?
Let’s never speak of this again?
My chest feels tight. Something is twisting in my stomach that I don’t want to examine too closely. Something that feels uncomfortably like fear, which is ridiculous because what do I have to be afraid of?
Except... oh god, what if they just leave? What if they’re waiting for me to wake up so they can politely extract themselves from this situation and pretend it never happened?
Which should be what I want, right? A clean break. Back to our separate lives. Forget this ever occurred.
So why does the thought of them walking out make my chest hurt?
I focus on my other senses, trying to figure out the situation without opening my eyes. The emergency lights are still on. I can see the faint glow through my eyelids. The storm must still be raging outside because I can hear wind and rain.
And I can smell them.
All four of them. All mixed together in the nest around me.
My heart does something complicated in my chest.
I risk cracking one eye open just a sliver, peeking through my lashes as I burrow deeper beneath the blanket.
The first thing I see is Jalen.
He’s sitting cross-legged at the edge of the nest, one hand resting in the dark coils on his scalp, wearing sweatpants and nothing else. He’s looking down at something in his hands—his phone, maybe?—and there’s this soft, peaceful expression on his face that makes something warm bloom in my chest.
As if sensing my gaze, his eyes lift and meet mine.
For a second, we just stare at each other. I’m frozen, caught, not sure what to do or say or—
Then his whole face softens into this gentle smile that makes my breath catch.
“Hey,” he says quietly. His voice is warm. Kind. Like waking up to find me watching him is the most natural thing in the world. “Welcome back, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
The endearment should probably bother me. Should feel presumptuous or patronizing or something. But instead, it just makes that warm feeling in my chest spread.
“Hi,” I manage, and my voice comes out rough and scratchy like I’ve been screaming.
Which. Yeah. I probably was.
Oh god.
“How are you feeling?” Jalen asks, setting his phone aside and giving me his full attention.
How am I feeling?
Mortified. Confused. Sore in places I didn’t know could be sore. Weirdly content despite the mortification. Like my body is completely satisfied even if my brain is having a full-scale panic attack.
“Fuzzy,” I settle on, because it’s true. My thoughts are still swimming, still not quite connecting the way they should. “And... thirsty?”
“I’ll get you water,” comes Malik’s voice from somewhere behind me, and I jump slightly because I hadn’t realized he was that close.
I turn my head slowly, because sudden movements feel like a bad idea, and find him already reaching for a bottle of water on the nightstand. He’s shirtless too, wearing only loose flannel pants that hang low on his hips.
I should not be noticing that. Should not be cataloging the defined muscles of his chest and arms. Should definitely not be remembering what those arms felt like wrapped around me.
When I was naked.
Like I am right now.
The realization makes heat flood my face all over again. And that’s when I realize something is different. I’m surrounded by their scents, but it’s not like it was before. It’s calmer now.
They’re not in rut anymore.
The realization should make me feel better. Should be a relief. But instead, there’s this weird pang of... disappointment? Which makes no sense. I should be thrilled that this is over, that we can go back to normal.
Except what even is normal after this?
“Here you go, sweetheart,” Malik says, opening the bottle and holding it out to me.
I reach for it automatically, then freeze as the blanket starts to slip. My hand darts out to catch it, clutching the fabric to my chest, and the movement makes my arm shake with weakness.
Post-heat fatigue. I recognize it from past cycles, but it’s never been this intense before. Then again, I’ve never had a heat this intense before either.
Malik notices my struggle immediately. His expression shifts to concern. “Here, let me help.”
Before I can protest, he’s there, one hand steadying my shoulder while the other brings the water bottle to my lips. I want to feel embarrassed about needing help with something so simple, but I’m too thirsty to care.
I drink the water greedily, not realizing how parched I was until the cool liquid hits my throat. When I finally come up for air, all four of them are watching me with this focused attention that makes my skin prickle.
“Better?” Cole asks. He’s leaning against the dresser, fully dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, arms crossed over his chest. But his eyes are soft, concerned.
I nod, still not quite trusting my voice.
“You need to eat something,” Dax says. He’s sitting on the other side of the nest, and unlike his brothers, he’s still shirtless. The emergency lights cast shadows across his chest, highlighting the hard lines of his torso. “Your body’s been through a lot.”
“I’m okay,” I start to say, but my stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly.
Traitor.
Malik’s lips twitch. “Uh huh. Very convincing.”
“I’ll grab some food,” Jalen offers, starting to stand.
“Wait,” I say quickly, and the word cracks in the quiet room. All four of them freeze, looking at me with varying degrees of concern.
I don’t know what I was going to say. Don’t know why I stopped him. Just... the thought of them leaving, even just to get food, makes something in my chest squeeze tight.
“I mean...” I fumble for words. “I’m not... I don’t need...”
God, I can’t even form a coherent sentence.
“Sierra.” Dax’s voice is gentle in a way I’ve never heard from him before. “What do you need?”
What do I need?
I need to understand what just happened. Need to know if they regret it. Need to figure out why the thought of them walking away makes me want to cry, even though I should want exactly that.
But I can’t say any of that. Can’t make myself that vulnerable when I’m still trying to process everything.
“I just...” I swallow hard. “You don’t have to... I mean, if you want to go, I understand. I know this was... we were all just... biology and...”
I trail off, the words tangling on my tongue.
There’s a long silence. The kind that makes my skin crawl with anxiety. This is it. This is where they politely extract themselves. Where they tell me it was nice helping me through my heat, but now it’s time to go back to ignoring each other.
Then, Cole pushes off from the dresser and comes to sit at the edge of the nest, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him.
“Sierra,” he says, and his voice is so steady, so sure. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“We just went through your heat with you,” Malik adds. “You really think we’re going to bail the second it’s over?”
“That’s not how pack works,” Jalen says softly.
Pack.
The word makes something flutter in my chest. Dangerous and hopeful and terrifying all at once.
“But we’re not...” I start, then stop. Because what are we? We spent two days in the most intimate situation possible, but that doesn’t make us pack. Biology brought us together. Biology and circumstance, and a storm that trapped us here.
That doesn’t mean anything. Can’t mean anything.
Right?
“Let’s not worry about labels right now,” Dax says, and there’s something in his voice that sounds almost..
. careful? Like he’s choosing his words deliberately.
“Right now, you need to recover. We’re going to take care of you.
That’s all that matters. But first—” He stands.
“Let’s get you into something more comfortable. ”
It takes my heat-fogged brain a second to process what he means. Then I realize. He’s offering to help me get dressed.
Which means they’re acknowledging that I’m naked.
Which they obviously know because they were there for all of it.
God, this is mortifying.
I open my mouth to protest, but the look in their eyes…
This isn’t obligation or politeness. They genuinely want to take care of me.
When did that happen?