Chapter 51
Bayleigh
I wake with a gasp, body bolting upright from the mattress. My hands reach out, hoping to grasp one of my alphas. But there’s no one. I’m alone. They’re not here. The spots where they were lying are lukewarm at best.
My breathing is heavy as a sharp pain rips right through my abdomen.
All I can feel is pure heat burning inside of me, ready to spark, yearning to be put out.
My body betrays me instantly. A wave of molten warmth pulses low in my belly, spreading outward to my flesh.
Sweat beads at my temples as slick is already gathering between my thighs before I can even understand what's happening, soaking through my thin cotton sleep shorts.
My implant crackles—picking up vibrations, static, sound that isn’t even real—turning everything into sensory overload until my body’s shaking in response.
My hands claw at the sheets as I try to ground myself.
Everything becomes too loud, too bright, too much.
The faint hum of the heater kicking on, the ticking of the clock on the wall.
Even the brush of the sheets against my skin feels like electricity.
My heart races so fast that I feel like it’s about to burst from my chest.
Is it because of my heat? Because I’m actually with a pack versus alone?
Another pain rips through me, and I fall back, rolling onto my side, curling my body around a pillow. I breathe in, then out, trying to make it through the onslaught of agony overtaking me. Out. In. I have to think and then do it. But the air doesn’t stay in my lungs. Panic steals it from me.
My scent spills heavier into the room—sweet and frantic.
The kind of scent an omega only releases when instinct takes over, superseding anything else.
My perfume wraps around me, broadcasting my distress through every vent and hallway in the house, hoping to find the three alphas I need to have with me.
My stomach twists, and I grip the pillow tighter, pulling the sheet, stuffie, and clothing near it toward me. I need to have my alphas’ scents near me. On me. Inside me.
My breath stutters.
And before I can think, or even realize what’s happening, my mouth opens and the word rips from my throat before I can stop it.
“Lincoln!” I scream. I yell as best I can, but I can’t hear myself, so I’m hoping it was a yell to get someone’s attention.
I’m not even sure if he heard me. If he’s here. If Milton and Korbin are.
But then, the door slams open, bouncing off the wall.
And then they’re here. Filling the doorway with their massive presence. Three alphas. My alphas. All with concern covering their faces.
Lincoln. He’s been my rock since the day he bumped into me.
The first one to steal a piece of my heart that was always intended for him.
His brown hair tousled from sleep, eyes wide but steady, warm with that sharp, unflinching attention he always has for me.
His eyes roam the room, roam me, taking in the scene—the way I’m shaking, the sheets twisted around my body, the way I’m gripping the pillow.
Then he inhales deeply, taking in my minty scent flooding the air—and something in him snaps into place.
Milton’s right beside him, breathless, his grapefruit-sweet scent flaring bright with concern. He doesn’t say a word, his lips pressed firmly together. His hands are already reaching for me as he steps forward toward me.
My eyes drift to Korbin last, his broad shoulders blocking the entry to the room, jaw tight with that fierce, protective stillness that always makes me feel safe. Much the way he looked that day on the sidewalk.
My arms are already out, forgetting the pillow as I reach for them without thinking. My fingers shake from the haze taking over me as my breath hitches. My hands reach out to all three of them as though I’ve done it a million times.
Lincoln lowers himself onto the nest beside me; my hands take hold of his shirt, my fingers twisting in the fabric, holding on tightly to him, as I bury my face in the crook of his neck. I inhale deeply, taking in his sandalwood scent.
Milton places his hand on my head and begins to stroke my hair.
My eyes gaze over at him, and I see his lips moving.
“You got this, Baby. We’re here for you.
Now and always,” he silently reassures me, even when I can’t hear or know what he is saying.
If I ever doubted how much he cares for me, this shows me he does.
Korbin moves into the nest, situating himself behind me as he places his hand on my spine, his thumb moving in slow, steady circles. Comforting me.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. I’m feeling a mixture of overwhelming embarrassment mixed with a growing hunger. My voice cracks as I speak again. “I—I didn’t mean to—”
Lincoln places a finger over my lips, hushing me instantly. His fingers brush my cheek, steady and careful. Then he signs against my skin—slow, deliberate motions I feel even through the haze.
We’ve got you.
You’re okay. Korbin signs.
You’re safe. Milton signs.
And I believe them. With every fiber of my being. Doubt no longer has residence in my heart or my mind.
My body still trembles, my nerves still buzz like they’re on fire, but Lincoln pulls me into him, bracing me against his chest. Milton curls closer into my side, his hand slipping into mine. Korbin kneels behind me, his forehead resting on my shoulder.
They’re not touching me like alphas touching some random omega in heat. They’re touching me like I’m theirs. Like we’re a pack.
I feel cared for. Protected. That I matter.
“Breathe with me,” Lincoln tells me.
“Sweet girl, you’re doing so good,” Milton says, after turning my face toward him. He lifts his hand, wiping sweat from my brow with the gentlest touch I’ve ever felt.
Korbin doesn’t try to move me to tell me something—he doesn’t need to. His scent alone wraps around me like a weighted blanket, calm and anchoring.
Slowly, I feel the worst of the first wave of my pre-heat start to diminish. My panic softens under their steady presence. My breathing slows and my body starts to relax, melding into theirs.
Just relax, Baby. I’ll get you something to drink. Lincoln signs before rushing over to the mini-refrigerator we just stocked with heat supplies.
I curl into myself as Milton wraps the blanket around me and Korbin fluffs my pillows, making sure they’re nice and plump for me.
I don’t feel embarrassed, panicked, or alone.
I feel loved.
Lincoln offers me a water bottle, and I take a small sip before handing it back to him.
“Thank you,” I manage to say before fatigue hits me.
My eyes become heavy, and before exhaustion pulls me under, I see them talking to each other. I’m not sure what they’re saying, and I don’t care, I’m too exhausted at this point. They’re my alphas, and I know they only want the best for me.
My eyes close tightly and I drift off to sleep, with my alphas around me, touching me, surrounding me.
My pack. I love these words.