Chapter 19 Seth
Seth
I'm doing a routine patrol down Main Street when her scent hits me.
Cinnamon-apple. Warm and impossibly thick.
But different tonight—darker, headier. Like someone caramelized her usual scent and added honey until it's sticky-sweet and calling to every instinct I have.
I slow the patrol car. The general store—she must be getting off shift soon. The scent is drifting on the cold December air, stronger than it should be from this distance.
Pre-heat.
And if I can smell it this clearly, every unmated alpha who walks past is going to notice too.
I pull into a parking spot where I have a clear view of the store entrance. Through the windows, I can see her wiping down the counter, that dark ponytail swinging as she moves.
Then Jackson Miller slows on the sidewalk. His head turns toward the general store, nose twitching. I watch his pupils dilate.
I'm out of the car before I think about it.
"Evening, Jackson." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. I step into his path, casual but deliberate. The uniform helps.
He blinks, seeming to shake himself. "Oh. Hey, Seth. Didn't see you there."
"Heading somewhere?"
His gaze flicks back to the general store, then to me. Understanding dawns—along with what might be amusement. "Just passing through. You have a good night, Deputy."
He changes direction, heading down Oak Street instead.
Real smooth, Monroe. Territorial posturing on Main Street.
But I can't bring myself to regret it.
I pull out my phone.
Pack Chat
Me: Her scent's changed. Getting stronger. Other alphas are noticing.
River: How bad?
Me: Bad enough Jackson Miller was heading toward the general store before I intercepted.
Grayson: Where are you now?
Me: Main Street. Keeping watch until she's done.
River: Good. I'm locking up in ten and driving her home.
Grayson: We need to talk. All of us. Tonight.
River: My place at 8. Grayson, can you bring Bea?
Grayson: On it.
I pocket my phone and lean against the patrol car where I have a clear view of the entrance.
Twenty minutes later, River emerges with Bea at his side. Even from here I can see the mark on her neck—high enough that her collar doesn't quite hide it.
Ours.
River spots me immediately and raises a hand. Bea follows his gaze and waves, a smile lighting her face that makes my chest tight.
River's driving her home. Keeping her safe until the meeting tonight.
I watch until his truck pulls away, then get back in my patrol car. Two more hours of shift, then River's place at 8.
By 7:45, I'm pacing River's living room.
"You're going to wear a hole in my floor," River observes from the couch.
"Her heat could start anytime. Days, maybe. We don't know. What if we don't know what to do? What if she needs something and we can't—"
I pull out the small notebook I keep in my jacket pocket. Open it to the page where I've already written "Heat Prep" at the top and underlined it twice.
"Are you taking notes?" River asks, something between amused and fond in his voice.
"We need a plan. Supplies." I click my pen. "What if she gets dehydrated? What if—"
"Seth." He sits up. "Breathe."
I take a breath. A real one. But I don't put the notebook away.
"We won't screw this up," he continues, "because we care about her. Because we'll ask what she needs. Because we're doing this together."
Together. The word helps.
I write it down. Together. Ask what she needs.
He checks his phone. "They'll be here in five."
The sound of a truck engine cuts through my thoughts. Doors slam.
Oh god. She's here.
The door opens and she walks in, and—
Oh god.
The intensity hits me first—cinnamon-apple gone thick and honeyed, so sweet it makes my mouth water. She's wearing jeans and a soft sweater that slides off one shoulder, her hair down in loose waves.
"Hi." Her smile is shy, uncertain. Her gaze finds mine. "Seth."
"Hi." My voice comes out too rough. "You look—" Beautiful. Perfect. Like everything I've ever wanted and don't deserve."—good. Really good."
I realize I'm still holding my notebook and pen. Quickly shove them back in my pocket.
Her smile gets warmer. "Were you taking notes?"
"Maybe."
"That's very you." She crosses to me and goes up on her toes, pressing a soft kiss to my mouth. Sweet. Brief. But enough to make my pulse stutter.
When she pulls back, she's already turning to River, leaning down to kiss him too. He catches her hand, squeezes it, then lets her go.
She moves to where Grayson's standing and he pulls her in for a longer kiss, his hand finding the back of her neck.
Watching them shouldn't make me feel warm and possessive, but it does.
Ours.
Smooth, Monroe. Real smooth.
Grayson closes the door, his hand lingering at the small of her back. Possessive. His dark eyes find mine and something passes between us.
We're all in this together.
"So." Bea drops onto the couch between River and where Grayson settles beside her, leaving me the armchair. She looks between us, nervous energy radiating. "This feels very serious. Should I be worried? Is this an intervention? Did I reorganize the paint section wrong?"
"No." River's voice is gentle. "We just want to talk about what happens next."
"Next." She swallows hard, and some of the snark fades. "You mean my heat."
The word hangs in the air.
Her scent shifts—anxiety spiking sharp through the sweetness. Every instinct I have screams to comfort her.
"It's coming soon," River continues. "Could be days. But your scent's changing fast, and we need to know what you want from us. If you want us there."
"Of course I want you there." The words burst out, almost defensive. Then she catches herself, wrapping her arms around her middle. "I mean—if you want to be. I don't want to just assume you're all signing up for this disaster."
"Bea." I lean forward. "We want to be there. All three of us. This is your heat. Your choice."
Her green eyes find mine, wide and vulnerable.
"I've never had a heat with alphas before.
Terrance wanted to, but I always took suppressants because he made it feel like something he was owed, not something we'd share.
And now I'm terrified I'll lose control or—god, turn into some kind of feral heat monster who humps your leg? This is mortifying."
"Hey." River catches her hand. "You won't lose yourself. Heat just makes you more honest about what you want."
"That's what I'm afraid of." Her voice goes small. "What if I want too much?"
"There's no such thing as too much," Grayson says. "Not with us."
She looks between us, that war in her eyes—needing to protect herself versus desperately wanting to let us in.
"I'm scared." Barely a whisper. Then louder, frustrated: "Which is stupid. I'm a grown woman with a business degree and I'm scared of my own biology. Very evolved of me."
"It's not ridiculous." Grayson's voice is quiet. "You're scared of needing us and then losing us. But that's not going to happen."
"You can't promise that."
"I can." The certainty in my voice surprises me. "I'm falling for you. Really falling. The kind that doesn't stop."
The room goes very quiet.
Bea stares at me, lips parted.
"Me too," River says.
"Same," Grayson adds, his hand finding the back of her neck.
A tear slips down her cheek. She swipes at it, frustrated. "This is so unfair. You're all perfect and I'm a mess and I don't—I don't know how to do this."
"You don't have to know." I cross to kneel in front of her so we're eye-level. "We figure it out together."
She touches my jaw with trembling fingers. "I'm falling too," she whispers. "For all of you. It's terrifying."
"Good terrifying or bad terrifying?"
"Both." But she's smiling now, watery and genuine. "Definitely both. Also—just so we're clear—I called you all perfect and none of you corrected me, so I'm holding you to that standard forever."
I can't help but laugh. "Noted."
"When your heat comes," Grayson murmurs, "we'll be there. However you need us."
"What about work?" Bea asks, practical even through the hormones. "The hardware store—"
"Julian's covering it," River says. "Him and Reid Harper. It's handled."
"You really planned all this?"
"Of course we did."
She's quiet for a moment, then: "What about bonding?"
The room goes very still.
"What about it?" River asks carefully.
"During heat, if you bite me—any of you—we'll be bonded.
Permanently." She's picking at her sweater hem now, not looking at us.
"And I know part of me wants that. God, do I want that.
But—" Her voice cracks. "Three weeks ago I was running from Terrance because he wanted to bond me immediately.
Lock me down before I could think. And I swore I'd never let anyone rush me into that again. "
My chest tightens. She's right.
"So I need to ask you—" She looks up, eyes shining. "Can we wait? On the bonding? I want to go through my heat with you. I want all of you there. But the biting, the permanent bond—can we save that for after? When my head is clear and I'm not drowning in hormones?"
Relief floods through me. She's thinking clearly. Protecting herself.
"Yes," I say immediately.
"Absolutely," River adds.
"Whatever you need," Grayson says firmly.
She lets out a shaky breath. "You're not disappointed?"
"Disappointed?" River catches her hand. "Bea, you're being smart. You're protecting yourself. That's exactly what you should do."
"But what if you want to bite me during my heat?" Her voice goes small. "What if your instincts—"
"Then we don't," Grayson says, steel in his voice. "We control ourselves. That's what alphas do for their omega—we put your needs first. Always."
"So we're clear?" She looks between us. "No bonding bites during my heat. We wait until after. When I'm sure it's not just biology talking."
"We're clear," I say. "No bites. Just... being there for you."
She swipes at her eyes, laughing wetly. "Okay. Okay good. Because I do want to bond with you. All of you. Eventually. Just—"