Chapter 16
16
EMMA
S unlight warms my face.
I blink awake slowly, momentarily disoriented by the room around me.
This isn’t my nest-bed.
Memories of last night crash over me like a wave.
River. His hands. His mouth.
His knot.
I groan, burying my face in his pillow.
What have I done? I don’t feel guilty, but scared I’ve let myself trust and fall for these Alphas’ charms.
The bed beside me is empty, the sheets cool to the touch.
I’m alone, but evidence of last night’s activities surrounds me, rumpled sheets, a lingering scent of sex in the air, the pleasant soreness between my thighs.
My clothes from yesterday lie scattered across the floor where River tossed them.
I gather them up, wincing slightly at the tenderness between my legs as I dress.
Somehow, the tank top and shorts feel inadequate to cover me.
Once dressed, I head to my room to retrieve my phone.
The cabin is silent around me, no sounds of life coming from the kitchen or living room.
I check my notifications, and there’s nothing from the guys, but there’s an email from my editor about the upcoming deadline.
I push those thoughts aside; I can’t deal with work right now.
Back in the main living area, I search for signs of the Alphas.
A note on the table, held in place by a saltshaker, catches my eye.
Sugar cube,
Had to run.
Urgent call came in.
Killed me to leave you sleeping in my bed looking so breathtakingly beautiful, like some fantasy come to life.
Last night was more than incredible; it was transformative.
The way you came apart in my arms, the sounds you made, the feel of you around me.
.. I’m getting distracted just writing this.
There are fresh pancakes staying warm in the oven.
Help yourself to anything else you find.
Or just wait for me, and I’ll give you everything you need.
Counting the minutes until I can hold you again,
River
P.S.
Emma, I’ve left coffee in the thermal carafe, the special blend I’ve been saving.
One sip and you’ll understand why I guard it so jealously.
You’re the only one I’d share it with.
Take your time this morning.
Can’t wait to see you.
—Levi
P.P.S. You’re safe here, always.
This is your space now, too.
We won’t be long, and when we return, we can talk.
.. or not talk. Whatever you need.
You’re not alone anymore.
—Atla s
I trace my finger over their handwriting, a smile tugging at my lips despite the anxiety churning in my stomach.
Three different men, three different ways of showing care.
Is this somehow my life?
I want to say I got lucky, but I’m terrified that my life of rejection will just repeat itself when I let myself fall for anyone.
The thought of fresh pancakes makes my stomach growl fiercely.
Despite all the carnival food I devoured yesterday, my body is ravenous, likely a side effect of last night’s amazing sex.
I find the promised breakfast keeping warm in the oven, a stack of fluffy pancakes that must have been made just before they left.
A quick search of the pantry reveals a bottle of maple syrup, the real stuff, not the artificial kind.
I carry my bounty to the dining table, curling up in one of the chairs with my legs tucked beneath me.
I don’t bother with a plate or fork.
Instead, I tear off pieces of pancake with my fingers, pouring it with the syrup.
It’s childish and messy, but there’s something freeing about it.
No one here to judge me, no need to be proper or controlled.
As I eat, my mind circles back to last night.
The way River touched me, fucked me.
The things he whispered in my ear as he drove into me.
The intensity of the pleasure he wrung from my body was unlike anything I’d experienced before.
Sex with Chad had been.
.. fine. Adequate. Sometimes even good.
But with River? It was like floating, like the difference between a candle and a supernova.
Each touch electric, each kiss an exploration, each thrust pushing me to heights I didn’t know existed.
Was it because of my approaching heat?
The compatibility of our scents?
Or something about the way he looked at me like I was precious, the care he took to ensure my pleasure before his own?
Whatever the reason, I can’t deny that something has shifted inside me.
A wall crumbling, a door opening.
I’ve known these men for less than a week.
I’m still raw from Chad’s rejection.
And now I’ve complicated everything by giving in to this.
.. whatever this is.
My phone rings on the table beside me, startling me from my spiral of thoughts.
Jess. I answer immediately, grateful for the distraction.
“Bitch, you’ve been holding out on me!” she announces playfully.
I laugh, licking syrup from my thumb.
“Hello to you too, Jess.”
“Don’t hello me. I was promised regular updates on your firefighter situation, and it’s been radio silence. Have you climbed any of them like trees yet? I need details, Emma. DETAILS.”
“Sorry,” I say, unable to keep the smile from my voice.
“Things have been a bit... chaotic.”
“Chaotic good or chaotic evil? Because if any of them have turned out to be secret serial killers, blink twice, and I’ll call for backup.”
“Definitely good chaos,” I assure her.
“They’re... they’re really great, actually.”
“Oh my God,” Jess gasps dramatically.
“You slept with one of them!”
I nearly choke on my pancake.
“How could you possibly know that?”
“I’ve known you since freshman year of college. I can hear sex in your voice. Spill. Everything. Now.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks despite being alone in the cabin.
“It was last night. With River.”
“And?” she demands when I don’t continue.
“And it was... incredible,” I admit, twirling a strand of hair around my finger nervously.
“Jess, I’ve never experienced anything like it. He was so... attentive and passionate and just... I don’t even have words. I mean, he fucks like a damn monster, and I loved it too much.”
“Holy shit, I’m jealous.” she breathes.
“And you’re smitten.”
“I’m not!” I protest automatically.
“It was just sex.”
“In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never heard you describe sex as incredible or compare it to being ravaged by a monster. Usually it’s fine or pretty good or he tried, bless his heart.”
She’s right, and we both know it.
I sigh, abandoning the pretense.
“What am I doing, Jess? I barely know these guys.”
“You’re having fun, that’s what. After the Chad disaster, you deserve some happiness. Even if it’s just really great sex with a hot firefighter.”
“It’s not just River, though,” I confess, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.
“There’s something about all three of them. They’re so different, but they fit together somehow. And being around them feels... right.”
Jess lets out an excited squeal.
“Are you telling me you’ve found yourself in the middle of an Alpha pack? Because if so, I’m both insanely jealous and demanding more photographic evidence immediately.”
I laugh despite myself.
“I’m just... confused.”
“Confused is a step up from heartbroken, which is where you were a week ago. I’d call that progress.” She pauses.
“How are you, really?”
“I’m okay,” I say, surprised to find I mean it.
“Better than I expected to be, given everything.”
“Good. You deserve good things, Em.”
“Enough about my disaster of a love life,” I deflect.
“How are you? How’s work?”
Jess groans dramatically.
“Don’t even ask. Three double shifts this week, and the ER has been an absolute nightmare. Some virus going around that has everyone projectile vomiting. I’ve gone through six sets of scrubs.”
“Gross,” I laugh.
“Anything exciting happening outside of work?”
“Oh God,” she moans.
“I wasn’t going to tell you because it’s too mortifying, but since you’ve already embraced chaos by sleeping with a hot firefighter, I might as well join you in the land of questionable life choices.”
“Now you have to tell me,” I insist, leaning forward eagerly.
“So there’s this new guy who moved in next door,” she begins.
“Absolutely gorgeous. Like, illegal levels of attractive. The kind of face that will get me in trouble.”
“And?” I prompt when she pauses.
“And I may have accidentally traumatized him for life by showing up almost naked on his doorstep at midnight.”
I burst out laughing.
“You WHAT?”
“It wasn’t my fault!” she protested.
“My demon cat locked me out! I’d left a window open because of the heatwave, and the little monster slipped out. Then, as I went after her, the door swung shut behind me. Then it somehow got back in through the window—evil thing.”
“Oh, no.”
“You see, recently, there were two stray dogs wandering the street, and I didn’t want Lord Murderfloof to get hurt. And naturally, it had to be the one night I decided to sleep in the nude.”
“Oh my God,” I wheeze, trying to catch my breath.
“What did you do?”
“What could I do? I grabbed old Mr. Rosenberg’s faded Panama shirt from the clothesline. The thing barely covered me and made me look like someone’s retired grandmother, and here I am knocking on the hot new neighbor’s door, praying he still had the spare key my old roommate used to leave with the previous tenant next door.”
I’m laughing so hard now.
“Please tell me he was home.”
“Oh, he was,” Jess confirms grimly.
“ Opened the door in his boxers, took one look at me standing there, and just... froze. Like, blue screen of death froze.”
“What did you say?” I manage between gasps of laughter.
“‘Hi, I’m your neighbor, and I’m locked out, and I know this is weird, but do you have my spare key?’ All in one breath while trying to look dignified.”
“And did he have the key?”
“Eventually, he unfroze enough to let me in while he looked for it. Gave me his robe, which I still have because I’m too mortified to return it. And get this, I’m pretty sure I saw him through his window the next day, walking around his apartment completely naked. So, now we’re even, I guess?”
“Jess,” I say solemnly.
“This is the beginning of a beautiful love story.”
“Or the beginning of me changing my name and moving to a different country,” she retorts.
“I can’t even look him in the eye when we pass in the yard now. And he’s so hot, Emma. Like, unfairly hot. Tall, dark, just the right amount of scruff, arms that could— Wait, I’m getting distracted.
“Nah, I’m traumatized.
There’s a difference.
” She sighs. “Anyway, gotta run. They just paged me for another shift because Anderson called in sick. Again. I swear that man has the immune system of a newborn mouse.”
“Go save lives,” I tell her.
“And maybe invest in some emergency pajamas for your midnight adventures. ”
“Hardy har,” she deadpans.
“Love you, disaster queen. Call me when you’ve figured out which firefighter you’re keeping. Or if you’re keeping all three, in which case I demand full details.”
“Goodbye, Jess,” I laugh, hanging up before she can make any more outrageous demands.
I’m still smiling as I finish the last of the pancakes, licking syrup from my fingers.
Talking to Jess always helps put things into perspective.
Maybe she’s right, and I don’t need to overthink this.
Maybe I can just... experience it.
See where it leads.
But my body feels.
.. different. There’s a lingering warmth under my skin, not the desperate fever of last night, but something subtler, waiting.
The calm before the storm.
I need a shower, I decide.
Maybe that will help clear my head.
I make it halfway to the bathroom when a sharp, twisting pain hits in my lower abdomen.
I drop to my knees with a gasp.
It’s followed immediately by a rush of heat so intense it feels like I’m being consumed from the inside out by flames.
“No,” I whimper, clutching the wall for support.
“Not now. Not alone.”
But my body doesn’t care about convenient timing.
The fever surges through me in waves, each more powerful than the last. Between my thighs, I’m suddenly soaking wet, slick coating my inner legs as my core pulses with urgency.
I try to stand, but another wave of pain and heat crashes through me, driving me back to the floor.
This isn’t like any heat I’ve experienced before.
It’s faster, stronger, and overwhelming in its demands.
And way too early.
With a monumental effort, I crawl to my bedroom, thinking my nest might provide some relief.
But the carefully arranged blankets and pillows that usually soothe me feel wrong—sterile, empty, missing something essential.
Missing them.
“Fuck,” I groan, curling into a ball as another spike of pain lances through me.
My hands shake as I press them against my stomach, trying to alleviate the cramping ache, but nothing helps.
On instinct, I drag myself back to River’s room, drawn by the lingering scent of him on his sheets.
I collapse onto his bed, burying my face in his pillow and inhaling deeply.
The familiar notes of cinnamon and brown sugar wrap around me, providing momentary relief from the white-hot need consuming me.
I roll across his bed, trying to surround myself with his scent, but it’s not enough.
It’s a pale shadow of what I really need—him, his touch, his knot.
My knees curl up to my chest as another wave of pain wracks me, a whimper escaping my clenched teeth.
This isn’t just desire or lust. It’s an agonizing emptiness, a void that demands to be filled.
My body knows what it needs, and it’s not satisfied with substitutes or memories.
My phone. I need to call them.
I reach for it with trembling fingers, nearly dropping it twice before managing to grip it properly.
Just as I unlock the screen, it lights up with an incoming call.
Chad.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter, tempted to ignore it, but the pain clouds my judgment, and I find myself swiping to answer.
“What do you want?”
“Emma,” Chad’s voice, once so appealing, now grates on my nerves.
“Finally. I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“What do you want?” I repeat, unable to keep a groan from escaping as another wave of heat rolls through me.
There’s a pause on the other end.
“What’s wrong with you? You sound weird.”
“Nothing,” I grit out, sweat beading on my forehead as I fight to keep my voice steady.
“If you don’t have anything important to say, I’m hanging up.”
“Shit,” he says suddenly, realization dawning.
“Emma, are you in heat? Where the fuck are you? Want me to come help?”
The audacity of his offer sends a spike of anger through the haze of pain.
“Fuck no,” I snarl. “Why would you say that when you’re with Megan, you asshole?”
“Megan’s not what you think,” he says defensively.
“Look, we had a thing, but it’s over. She turned out to be... complicated. ”
“Complicated,” I repeat flatly.
“Is that what we’re calling it now? You rejected me during my heat, told me my scent was ‘wrong,’ then hooked up with my so-called friend behind my back. But sure, she’s the complicated one.”
“I made a mistake, okay?” He sounds frustrated now.
“People make mistakes. I just... I don’t know, I panicked. Your scent changed, and I freaked out. But I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I overreacted.”
“How magnanimous of you,” I say, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.
“Can we just talk?” he pleads, ignoring the barb.
“Please? At least let me know you’re safe during your heat. Like the old times. They were good times, right?”
For a brief, weak moment, I remember how it used to be.
Chad taking care of me during my heats, attentive and passionate in a way he rarely was otherwise.
But then I remember his coldness before he dumped me, how he’d turned away from me with a grimace, claiming my scent had changed, become unappealing.
“The good times are over,” I tell him flatly.
“You made sure of that when you rejected me at my most vulnerable. When you looked at me like I disgusted you.”
“Emma, please?—”
“No,” I cut him off.
“I want nothing to do with you. Not now, not ever again.”
“I’m coming to Whispering Grove,” he declares suddenly.
“I’m going to find you, okay? We need to talk face to face.”
Panic surges through me at the thought of him here, in this place that’s become a sanctuary of sorts.
“Stay away from me, Chad. I mean it.”
“You’re not thinking clearly right now. Once your heat passes?—”
“Fuck off,” I snap, ending the call before he can say anything else.
I toss the phone aside, curling tighter around myself as another wave of pain and need washes over me.
The conversation with Chad has only intensified my distress, memories of his rejection compounding the physical agony of being alone during this heat.
What am I going to do?
My heat’s never hit this suddenly before, never been this intense.
I didn’t bring any emergency suppressants with me, why would I when my cycle wasn’t due for weeks?
But there’s nothing manageable about this consuming fire in my veins, this desperate emptiness that feels like it might tear me apart.
Maybe I can take the edge off myself.
It’s not ideal, but it might provide some relief until the Alphas return.
With shaking hands, I slide my shorts down my legs, gasping as the cool air hits my overheated skin.
I’m embarrassingly wet, thighs slick with evidence of my arousal.
I close my eyes, trying to summon the memory of River’s touch as I slide my fingers through my folds.
The first touch sends a jolt of pleasure through me, but it’s immediately apparent that it’s not enough.
My fingers feel too small compared to what my body is demanding.
Still, I persist, circling my clit with increasing pressure, desperately seeking release.
When the orgasm finally comes, it’s a pale imitation of what I experienced with River.
A momentary spike of pleasure that does nothing to ease the aching emptiness inside me.
If anything, it makes it worse, highlighting exactly what I’m missing.
I need a knot. I need an Alpha.
I need my Alphas.
With shaking hands, I reach for my phone again, scrolling to Atlas’s number.
It rings several times before going to voicemail.
“H-hey,” I stammer when the tone sounds.
“It’s me. I kinda need to speak to you urgently. Please call me. I just...” I trail off, unsure what to say without sounding pathetic.
“Just call me.”
I hang up, cursing under my breath.
Next, I try River, hoping he might be more likely to answer, given what happened between us last night.
Again, the call goes to voicemail.
“River,” I say, my voice betraying more of my distress this time.
“I need—” A particularly sharp cramp cuts me off, a grunt of pain escaping before I can stop it.
“Please call me as soon as you can. It’s important.”
Levi is my last hope.
I dial his number, my vision blurring with unshed tears of frustration and pain as I listen to it ring endlessly.
When his voicemail prompts me to leave a message, something in me breaks.
“Oh God, where are you all?” I sniff, unable to keep the desperation from my voice as another wave of heat crashes through me.
“I’m in heat. Please, I need help.”
After hanging up, I curl around River’s pillow, trying to find comfort in his lingering scent, but it’s fading, a poor substitute for what I truly need.
Tears of frustration leak from the corners of my eyes.
As the minutes tick by with no response, my desperation grows.
Maybe they’re truly unreachable.
What if they’re in danger?
With trembling fingers, I dial the fire station, praying someone there can at least tell me when they might return.
“Whispering Grove Fire Department,” a familiar female voice answers.
“Claire speaking.”
Of all the people to answer, it had to be her, the volunteer I met my first day, who looked at me like I was an intruder even then.
“Hi,” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady.
“I’m trying to reach Atlas, or River, or Levi. It’s urgent.”
“They’re at the elementary school,” Claire replies, her tone coolly professional.
“Gas leak situation. Is everything okay? You sound... distressed.”
So that’s the emergency call.
At least now I know where they are.
“Do you know when they’ll be back? I really need to speak with them.”
There’s a pause, then Claire’s voice takes on a different quality, less professional, more personal.
“You know, they’re working right now. Saving lives. They don’t really appreciate being... bothered while on duty. ”
“I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important,” I say, gritting my teeth against both pain and irritation.
“Mmm,” she hums, unconvinced.
“Don’t we all think our problems are important? But some of us manage without monopolizing all three of them, while others can’t even get one.”
The pettiness in her tone would be laughable if I weren’t in such distress.
“This isn’t a competition, Claire.”
“Isn’t it?” She laughs, the sound brittle and forced.
“You’ve been in town what, a week? And somehow, you’ve got all three of them wrapped around your finger. Must be some kind of trick.”
Another cramp hits me, this one so intense I can’t suppress a gasp of pain.
“I can’t do this right now,” I manage.
“Just... tell them to check their messages if you see them.”
I hang up before she can respond, tossing the phone aside with a frustrated growl.
Great. Now, not only am I alone and in agony, but I’ve also apparently made an enemy of the one person who might have been able to help me reach the Alphas.
Curling into a tighter ball, I press my face into River’s pillow as tears leak from the corners of my eyes.
The pain is getting worse, the empty ache spreading from my core to encompass my entire body.
Each wave brings with it memories of last night, River’s hands, his mouth, his knot filling me so perfectly.
But it’s not just River I crave.
Images of Atlas on the balcony, of Levi in the tunnel of love, flicker through my mind.
All three of them so different yet equally compelling, equally necessary somehow.
When did that happen?
When did they become so essential to me?
The last few months flash through my mind—the growing restlessness in my relationship with Chad, the subtle signs of disconnection I ignored because it was easier than starting over.
Then the brutal shock of his rejection, followed by discovering him with Claire.
I’d fled to Whispering Grove, seeking solitude, a chance to lick my wounds in private.
Instead, I found them.
Three Alphas who, in less than a week, have made me feel more seen, more understood, more wanted than Chad did in our entire relationship.
And now, curled in agony on an Alpha’s bed, soaked in my own slick and tears, the truth mocks me—I need them.
Not just anyone, them specifically.
My body was designed to seek connection, to crave compatible partners.
Fighting that biological imperative has only led me here, alone, when I most need support.
The worst part isn’t even the physical pain, though that’s excruciating.
It’s the fear. The vulnerability.
The terrifying realization that I’ve come to depend on three men I barely know, that my body has recognized something in them my mind is still struggling to accept.
What if they don’t come back soon?
What if this gets worse?
Horror stories of Omegas driven to madness by untreated heats flash through my mind, tales whispered among friends of hospitalizations and permanent damage.
Is that my fate? After everything I’ve survived, losing my parents, my grandmother, Chad’s betrayal, is this how I finally break?
Alone in a strange town, consumed by an unexpected heat with no one to help me through it?
I reach for my phone again, sending desperate text messages to all three Alphas.
Please call me. In heat.
Need help.
It’s bad.
Really bad. Please.
I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I don’t know what to do.
The messages stare back at me, unread.
Unseen. Unanswered.
Another wave of heat crashes over me, this one so intense, I cry out, clutching at the sheets as my back arches involuntarily.
The emptiness inside me is a physical pain now, a hollow ache that nothing can fill.
I try pleasuring myself again, fingers working desperately between my thighs, but it’s useless.
The orgasm that ripples through me is weak, unsatisfying, serving only to highlight what I’m missing.
“Please,” I sob, face pressed into River’s pillow as another contraction of need twists through me.
“Please come back.”
Only silence answers me.
I’m truly alone, at the mercy of my biology and the cruel timing of an unexpected heat.
The minutes stretch into hours, each one an eternity of alternating waves of need and pain.
I drift in and out of lucidity, the fever taking a greater toll with each passing moment.
At some point, I’ve stripped completely naked, the fabric of my clothes too abrasive against my hypersensitive skin.
In a moment of clarity, I remember something from an Omega health class.
Water can sometimes help regulate body temperature during heat.
With trembling limbs, I drag myself to the bathroom, every movement an exercise in agony as my body protests being pulled away from the Alpha scents in River’s room.
I manage to turn on the shower, collapsing under the spray without bothering to adjust the temperature.
The cool water provides momentary relief, washing away the slick from my thighs and the sweat from my skin, but it does nothing for the internal burn, the desperate emptiness that feels like it’s consuming me from the inside out.
How long can I endure this?
How long before this heat causes real damage?
The rational part of my brain knows I should call for medical help, but the thought of strangers touching me during heat, of clinical hands and dispassionate faces, fills me with a different kind of terror.
I want them. My Alphas.
No one else.
Eventually, the water runs cold enough to make me shiver despite the fever raging through me.
I turn it off with clumsy fingers and stumble back to River’s room, leaving wet footprints in my wake.
I collapse onto his bed, not bothering to dry off or dress.
The sheets soak through immediately, but I don’t care.
I curl around his pillow, inhaling deeply, searching for any trace of his scent that might provide even the smallest comfort.
Another wave of heat crashes over me, drawing a whimper from my parched throat.
My body is on fire, burning, every nerve ending raw and screaming.
The slick between my thighs is almost constant now, my core clenching rhythmically around nothing, desperately seeking what it needs.
How ironic that after years of insisting I need no one, of building my identity around my independence, I’m reduced to this—an Omega in desperate need of her Alphas.
Not just any Alphas, but these three specifically.
The realization should terrify me more than it does.
Instead, there’s a strange peace in finally admitting the truth—I need them.
All three of them. In a way, I’ve never needed anyone before.
The heat builds again, a tidal wave of need and pain that tears a broken sob from my throat.
I press my face into River’s pillow, inhaling desperately for any trace of his scent, any whisper of comfort in this torment.
“Please,” I whisper, the word a prayer to deities I don’t believe in. “Please help me.”