21. Sadie
Sadie
I wake to the press of warm lips against my throat and the scent of cedar wrapping around me like a promise. For a moment I’m disoriented—my body feels different, claimed in ways that go deeper than skin. Then memory floods back and I’m melting into Levi’s gentle kiss.
“Morning, beautiful,” he murmurs against my pulse point, and the rough affection in his voice makes heat unfurl in my chest.
“Mmm.” I stretch beneath him, acutely aware of the pleasant ache between my thighs that speaks of last night’s thorough claiming. “What time is it?”
“Early. But I wanted to wake you properly.” His mouth finds that sensitive spot behind my ear that makes me arch against him. “Before I have to leave for the real world.”
The real world. Right. Friday morning means work, festival preparations, the careful balancing act we’re all still navigating. But right now, with Levi’s hands mapping my body like he’s memorizing every curve, reality feels very far away.
“Stay,” I whisper, even though I know he can’t. Even though I have a dozen vendor calls to make and arrangements to finalize.
“If I stay, I’ll never let you leave this bed.” His voice drops to that gravelly tone that makes my core clench with fresh want. “And you have important things to do today.”
He’s right, but my omega side doesn’t care about responsibilities when her alpha is looking at her like she’s everything he’s ever wanted. The possessive satisfaction in his scent tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
“You’re being very reasonable for someone who knotted me senseless last night,” I breathe as his hands slide lower.
“Someone has to be.” But his touch grows bolder, more demanding. “Doesn’t mean I can’t properly appreciate what’s mine before I go.”
What’s mine. The casual claim sends heat racing through me that has nothing to do with his clever fingers. Being claimed, being wanted like this—it’s everything I never knew I needed.
When he finally pulls away to get dressed, I watch from bed feeling thoroughly debauched and completely cherished. The temporary mark he left on my throat throbs with each heartbeat, a reminder of how close he came to giving me something permanent.
“I love you,” he says simply, pressing one last kiss to my forehead before heading for the door.
“I love you too.”
After he leaves, I lie in bed surrounded by the lingering warmth of his cedar scent and try to process everything that’s changed.
Three months ago I couldn’t get a date. Yesterday I was a frazzled omega trying to prove her independence.
This morning I’m someone who’s been loved thoroughly by an alpha who treats her like she’s precious.
The difference between this and my college relationship hits me like a physical blow.
Ryan used to take what he wanted, then roll over and go to sleep like I was just a convenient warm body.
Levi worshipped me with his hands and mouth, made sure I came apart multiple times before taking his own pleasure, then held me like I was something worth treasuring.
The comparison makes my chest tight with a mixture of gratitude and old pain. I spent two years thinking that was what intimacy looked like—being used rather than cherished. No wonder I fought so hard against needing anyone.
But this morning, with my body still humming from Levi’s attention and his scent clinging to everything, I can’t imagine going back to that lonely independence. Not when being cared for feels this good.
My phone buzzes. Text from Reid: Good morning. Thought I’d bring lunch today—we could eat while reviewing the final vendor schedules. Unless you have other plans?
Other plans. Like processing the fact that I’m falling in love with three different men who somehow all want the same thing. Like figuring out how to navigate whatever this is becoming when my suppressants are barely working anymore.
I text back: Lunch sounds perfect. See you around noon.
The shower helps clear my head, though I catch myself touching the mark on my throat more than once. In the mirror, it’s obvious what happened—my lips are still swollen from Levi’s kisses, and there’s a satisfied glow to my skin that wasn’t there yesterday.
I look like an omega who’s been thoroughly claimed. And despite everything I thought I knew about myself, I love it.
Downstairs in the shop, I try to focus on festival preparations.
Final counts, delivery schedules, the thousand small details that will make or break this weekend’s festival.
But my mind keeps drifting back to the way Levi’s hands felt on my skin, the reverent way he whispered my name when he was buried inside me.
The bell chimes at exactly noon, and Reid walks in carrying bags from what looks like an expensive Pine Valley restaurant.
He’s dressed in his usual immaculate style—tailored slacks and a button-down that probably costs more than my weekly grocery budget—but there’s something different about his energy today.
More relaxed, like he’s finally settling into his place here.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he says, setting the bags on my counter. “I may have gotten carried away ordering.”
Then he goes completely still, his nostrils flaring as he catches the scent clinging to my clothes. Cedar and rain and the unmistakable musk of alpha satisfaction. His pupils dilate, and I watch his bergamot cologne shift to something richer, more possessive.
“Good morning?” he asks, voice carefully neutral.
Heat floods my cheeks. “Very good morning.”
“I’m glad.” And he sounds like he means it, which shouldn’t surprise me anymore but still does. Three weeks ago I thought men only wanted exclusive claims. Now I have an alpha responding to another alpha’s scent on me with approval rather than jealousy.
“How did Tuesday’s business meeting go?” I ask as we unpack containers of what looks like gourmet Italian food. “With the flowers, I forgot to ask?”
His hand stills for just a moment. “Let’s focus on today,” he says, serving pasta that smells incredible onto real plates he somehow acquired.
“I actually have news,” he continues, relief evident in his voice at the topic change.
“I’ve taken extended time off from my current project.
Want to focus on helping you with the festival full-time through next week. ”
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. “Reid, you don’t have to?—”
“I want to.” His voice carries that quiet authority I’m learning to recognize. “This matters to you, which means it matters to me. My other work can wait.”
The casual way he rearranges his entire professional life around my needs makes my pulse flutter. But underneath the gratitude, there’s a growing awareness that’s been building all morning.
My suppressants aren’t working.
Oh, they’re in my system—I can feel the artificial dampening that’s supposed to keep my omega biology in check.
But sitting this close to Reid, breathing in his expensive cologne mixed with his natural alpha scent, my body responds like I’m not medicated at all.
Slick gathers between my thighs, my nipples tighten against my bra, and every breath fills my lungs with his intoxicating presence.
This shouldn’t be happening. Not with daily suppressants. Not unless something fundamental has changed.
“You look thoughtful,” Reid observes, refilling my water glass with the kind of attentiveness that makes me feel cherished.
“Just processing. The festival, everything that’s happening.” I take a careful breath, trying to center myself, but it only makes me more aware of how his scent affects me. “Sometimes I feel like I’m in over my head.”
“You’re not.” His certainty makes me look up, find him watching me with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, doing exactly what you were meant to do.”
“Even when I’m making it up as I go along?”
“Especially then.” His smile turns warm, almost fond. “Confidence comes from competence, but courage comes from acting even when you’re scared. You have both.”
The compliment hits deeper than it should, and I realize I’m staring at his mouth when he speaks.
Wondering what he tastes like, how his lips would feel against mine.
The thought sends fresh heat through me that has nothing to do with the warm food and everything to do with the alpha sitting across from me.
This is getting dangerous. Being around three interested alphas while my suppressants fail is like walking a tightrope over an open flame. Sooner or later, I’m going to fall.
Maybe I want to fall.
The thought startles me with its clarity. For three years I’ve been taking suppressants religiously, maintaining careful control over my omega biology. But what if my body’s trying to tell me something? What if the reason they’re not working is because I’ve found something worth falling for?
“Sadie?” Reid’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. “You okay?”
“Fine. Just...” I set down my fork, trying to find words for what I’m feeling. “Do you ever wonder if we fight things that are supposed to be natural?”
His expression grows more thoughtful. “What kind of things?”
“Biology. Instincts. The way our bodies respond to certain people.” I can’t believe I’m having this conversation, but something about Reid’s steady presence makes honesty feel safe. “What happens when the suppressants stop working?”
Understanding dawns in his green eyes, and his natural scent grows richer in response. “Are they stopping?”
“I think so.” The admission feels huge, vulnerable. “I think being around all of you is overriding the artificial suppression.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
The simple question cuts through everything I’ve been overthinking. How do I feel about my body responding naturally to three alphas who want to take care of me?
“Scared,” I admit. “But also... excited. Like maybe I’ve been fighting something beautiful instead of protecting myself from something dangerous.”