Chapter 24 #2
Victoria turns, and her nose wrinkles slightly. “Cynthia, your perfume is rather strong.”
“Is it?” Cindy touches her neck. “Sorry. Might have overdone it.”
“And your scent seems… off.” Victoria frowns. “You should have that checked. Could be a hormonal imbalance.”
I nearly choke. Yeah, it’s a hormonal imbalance, all right. Called heat combined with perfume throwing her mom off. Good.
“I’m fine, Mother. Really.”
Victoria doesn’t look convinced, but she turns back to survey the yard. “The property is quite impressive. Though I do wonder about the practicality of such a large space for just two people.”
Ah, shit.
“Oh, I’ve got roommates,” I say, keeping my tone casual, knowing it needs to come out eventually. “Arrow and Holt. We all live here.”
Victoria’s head snaps around. “Roommates.”
“Yeah. Big house, seemed stupid to have it sit empty.”
“I see.” Her voice has gone very cool. “And where are these roommates now?”
“Out running errands,” I say. “They’ll be back later.”
Victoria glances over at Cindy, who’s desperately trying to look anywhere but at her mother. “You’re living in a house with three men.”
“I have my own room,” Cindy states quickly. “My own space. For privacy. Until Luke and I properly marry.”
“How very… modern.” Victoria’s tone could freeze hell. For a long moment, she stares at me. I can see her trying to find something to criticize, some angle to attack, but I’m not giving her an opening.
Finally, she turns away. “I’d like to see Cynthia’s room.”
Fuck. Of course she would.
“Sure thing, Mother.”
I lead them back inside, trying not to notice that Cindy is stumbling slightly. “Right upstairs.”
The stairs are torture. Cindy makes it up three steps before she has to stop, one hand pressed to the wall, breathing hard. Sweat beads at her hairline, and I can smell the heat rolling off her in waves.
It’s affecting me too. My skin feels like it’s on fire, my jeans are too tight, and there’s a low growl building in my chest that I have to physically swallow down.
Victoria notices. Of course she does. “Cynthia, perhaps you should lie down.”
“I’m fine.” Cindy forces herself up another step. “Just out of shape.”
“You’re twenty-two,” Victoria says dryly. “Not ninety.”
I take the stairs two at a time, partly to speed this along and partly because if I stay close to Cindy much longer, I’m going to do something supremely stupid. “The guest room is down this hall.”
I push open the door, and Victoria steps inside.
It’s a nice room. We made damn sure of that.
Queen bed with a quality mattress, dresser, chair by the window, attached bathroom.
Cindy’s stuff is scattered around like she actually lives here.
Clothes on the chair, shoes by the closet, her work bag on the desk.
Victoria takes it all in, and I brace for criticism.
“It’s adequate,” she says finally. Which, coming from her, might as well be a glowing review.
Cindy appears in the doorway, leaning heavily on the frame. Her pupils are wide, and she’s trembling.
I need to get Victoria out. Now.
“So,” I say brightly, “what do you think? Will this place work for the wedding?”
Something flickers in her expression. Not quite approval. But close. “Yes,” she says slowly. “I suppose this will… do.”
“Excellent.” I’m already moving toward the staircase, practically herding her out. “Let me walk you to your car.”
“I should say goodbye to Cynthia?—”
“She’s not feeling well,” I interrupt, flashing an apologetic smile. “Better not risk getting too close, right? Don’t want you catching whatever she’s got.”
Cindy makes a strangled sound behind me. “I’ll call you later, Mother. Promise.”
Victoria doesn’t look happy about it, but she lets me guide her back downstairs.
Every second ticks by like a countdown, my control fraying at the edges.
My hands are shaking. There’s a fine tremor running through my whole body, and it’s taking everything I have to keep walking normally instead of sprinting back to Cindy.
We reach the front door, and I pull it open maybe a little too fast.
“Thank you for the tour, Luke.” Victoria pauses on the threshold, fixing me with that sharp gaze. “Take care of my daughter.”
“Always,” I manage. My voice sounds wrecked even to my own ears.
She gives me one more assessing look as if she knows something is wrong but can’t quite figure out what, then nods and heads to her car. A black Mercedes, because of course it is.
I watch until she’s pulling out of the driveway, then shut the door and lock it.
“Cindy!” I call, already heading for the stairs. My voice comes out as almost a growl.
No answer.
I take the stairs three at a time, my heart pounding. Every breath is full of her scent, stronger now, calling to every instinct I have. The guest room is empty. The master suite. Nothing.
“Cindy, where are you?”
Still nothing, and fuck, I’m starting to panic.
The front door opens, and I glance downstairs. Arrow and Holt strut inside, and I nearly tackle them in my rush to get downstairs.
“What the fuck?” Arrow drops the grocery bags he’s carrying. “Who died?”
“Cindy’s mother just left,” I say quickly. I hear how close to the edge my voice is riding. “And Cindy—fuck, something’s wrong. She’s going into heat.”
Holt goes very still. “You’re sure it’s not pre-heat?”
“Her scent is different. She’s flushed, sweating, can barely stand up straight. She’s been trying to hide it all morning.” I run a hand through my hair, pulling hard. “And it’s killing me. I can barely think straight.”
I’m already moving, following the pull of her scent, but it’s everywhere. “We need to find her, as she’s not answering. Now.”
We spread out, searching the house. Living room, kitchen, both offices, the gym. Nothing. Then Holt stops in the hallway, head tilted.
“Smell that?”
I do. Her scent, stronger now, thick enough to choke on. Coming from the east wing, where we set up the Omega heat room. A space we built just for such a moment.
We follow the trail down the hall. The door to the heat room is closed, and when I push on the handle, it’s locked. From beyond it, I can hear water running. The shower.
I knock, trying to keep my voice steady. “Cindy? I know you’re in there.”
The water cuts off. Silence at first.
“I’m okay.” Her voice is hoarse, strained, and it sends a bolt of pure need straight through me.
“Then why are you in this room?” I ask.
Footsteps. Getting closer to the door. “Just needed some Omega time to myself.”
“Open the door, Cindy.” Holt’s voice is low, gentle. “It’s okay.”
More silence. Then a sharp cry, cut off like she’s trying to muffle it. The sound of something hitting the floor.
“Fuck this.” Arrow is already pulling out the skeleton key we have for the house that he keeps on his keyring.
He unlocks it, pushes it open, and we all pause.
Cindy is on the floor beside the bed, wrapped in a towel. Her hair is soaking wet, dripping onto the hardwood. She’s shaking, breathing hard, and the scent of her heat slams into us like a physical force.
Oh, fuck!
My control shatters. My hands are shaking, vision is narrowed to just her, and there’s a roaring in my ears that drowns out everything else. Want. Need. Mine.
She lifts her gaze up to us, eyes wide and dark. “I-I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” I say, and my voice comes out as almost a snarl. “Are you going into heat?”
“Don’t say that.” She tries to stand, fails, slumps back against the bed. “I’m just stressed. My mother, and the house, and?—”
She cries out, doubling over. Her hands clench the towel, and I can see slick dampening her inner thighs.
We’re across the room in seconds. I drop to my knees beside her, and the strength of her scent up close makes my vision blur. Sweet, rich, ours . Every instinct I have explodes to life, demanding that I take care of her, claim her, make her ours in every possible way.
“Your scent is so strong,” I manage, my voice barely human. “Beautiful one, you don’t need to suffer alone. Fuck, we won’t let you.”
Holt crouches on her other side. Arrow hovers behind us, his usual smart-ass expression gone. He looks as wrecked as I feel.
“Please.” Cindy’s voice breaks, and there are tears streaming down her face now. “I don’t… I don’t know how to deal with this intensity. This hurts so much more than my previous heats.”
Something in my chest cracks wide open. I reach for her, cup her face in my hands, feel her burning skin against my palms.
“That’s why we’re here,” I say quietly. Holt brushes wet hair back from her face. “That’s what we’re made for. To take care of you through this.”
“We won’t let you hurt,” Arrow adds. His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “That’s not happening.”
I can see the moment she breaks. Her shoulders sag, and she leans toward us like she can’t help it. Like our presence alone eases the ache building in her body.
“Come on,” I say, barely holding it together. “Let’s get you into the nest.”
The heat room has a massive bed—California Omega King made for at least six adults, piled with blankets and pillows that we scented for her. Nest material.
We help her up, and she climbs onto the bed with shaking limbs. The moment she’s surrounded by our scents, she lets out a shuddering breath.
“Better?” Holt asks.
She nods, curling into the pillows. We settle around her, Holt on her right, Arrow to her left, me in front where I can see her beautiful face.
My hands are still shaking. I’m barely holding back, every muscle locked tight with the effort of not just taking her right now.
“This is what it’s supposed to be like,” Holt murmurs. He’s running his hand up and down her arm in slow, soothing strokes. “You, surrounded by your pack. Safe. Protected.”
“We’re here for everything,” Arrow says. “Every need, every ache.”
Cindy’s breathing is still ragged, but the panic in her eyes is fading. She looks at each of us in turn. We’re not scared, not running. We want this. Want her .
“It hurts,” she whispers.
“I know, baby.” I reach out, cup her face in my hand, and my thumb strokes her cheek. “But we’re going to make it better. I promise.”
She leans into my touch, and fuck, the trust in that simple gesture destroys me. My control is hanging by a thread.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Holt says. “Your body knows what it needs. We’re right here.” I move my hand from her arm to her hip.
For several minutes, we just hold her. Touch her. Let her feel us surrounding her, grounding her. She’s still trembling, but it’s different now. Less pain.
When she leans in and presses her lips to mine, I taste desperation and need and everything I’ve been craving.
I kiss her back, trying to keep it gentle even though everything in me wants to devour her. Her mouth is so soft, so sweet, and when she whimpers against my lips, I nearly lose it. Her hand finds Arrow’s thigh, gripping tightly. Her leg hooks over Holt’s, pulling him closer.
She needs to feel all of us at once. Needs the pack connection as much as she needs the physical relief.
When she pulls back, she’s panting. “I can’t… I need…”
“We know,” I say. My voice is wrecked, barely recognizable. My whole body is vibrating with need. “Are you ready for us, then?”
“All of you.” She’s looking between us, wild-eyed and desperate. “It’s going to take all of you. No matter how long this lasts.”
Holt’s hand tightens on her hip. Arrow makes a rough sound in his throat. And me? I’m trying like hell to keep control when all I want to do is rip that towel off and bury myself in her until we both forget our own names.
But she deserves better than that. Deserves us at our best, not just our base instincts.
Cindy reaches for the towel. Her hands are shaking as she pulls it loose, letting it fall away.
Fuck me!
She’s perfect. Curves and soft skin, full breasts with tight nipples, and yes, there’s a scar on her arm, burn damage, from what I can see, but it doesn’t matter.
A small landing strip of blonde hair between her thighs.
Nothing matters except the fact that she’s ours, she’s here, and she’s offering herself to us.
She should be shy. Should be nervous. But the heat has burned through all that. She’s watching our faces, the way we stare at her, and she fucking loves it. I can tell by the way her breath catches, the way her thighs press together seeking friction.
“You’re beautiful,” Arrow breathes.
Her thighs are slick, glistening. Arousal dripping down her inner legs, her body preparing itself. I have to swallow hard.
“Look at you,” I rasp. “So fucking ready for us.”
She whimpers, spreading her legs slightly. An invitation. A plea.
Arrow is breathing hard. “Cindy?—”
“I need you all.” She’s crying now, overwhelmed by sensation, by need. “Inside me. I can’t stand the pain anymore.”
Holt kisses her shoulder, his teeth grazing her skin. Arrow trails his fingers up her side, leaning in closer, making her arch. And I move in, pressing my forehead to hers, breathing in her scent until it’s all I know.
“We’ve got you,” I whisper. “You’re safe. You’re ours. And we’re going to take such good care of you.”
Her heat crashes over her in waves, and we’re there to catch every single one.