32. Jp #2
My heart is hammering, trying not to think about what will happen if she’s not there and where we’ll look—or worse, what if she is there and any of the things I was imagining earlier have happened? I swallow the thick knot of fear that threatens to choke me.
Sterling’s place is dark when we pull up. No glow in the windows.
Quinn’s out of the truck first, jogging up the steps. He knocks once. Twice. “Sterling? It’s Quinn, Are you home?”
Nothing.
Cass tries the door. Locked.
“I’m going around back,” I snap, already off the stoop and hopping the side fence before either of them can stop me.
Her backyard is quiet. Still.
The back door is unlocked—and that ice-cold knife that’s been sitting in my chest all evening shifts and slides straight into my heart.
She should never leave her door unlocked. This is a good town, but it’s not that good. There are still fuckheads around, especially with the docks so close.
Her scent overwhelms me the second I step inside, thick as hell, coating the air…It makes me feel lightheaded.
Sweet cinnamon and warm vanilla. It’s always been good, but now it’s so rich my mouth waters. It floods my lungs, short- circuits my brain. My boots pause on the kitchen tile, every part of me going tense.
“Sterling?” I call out, my voice low, continuing to walk through the kitchen into the living room. Her house is dark. No lights. But there is also no evidence of foul play, which has a small part of me unwinding. I stop and listen.
Nothing.
Her scent keeps teasing at my senses, crawling over my skin, sending waves of goosebumps along my arms. And the closer I get to her nest, the more intense this feeling gets.
It’s different. She always smells fucking good—but this? This makes my Alpha want to drop down on all fours and chase. Then fuck.
When I reach her room, her nest is empty—blankets tangled, pillows knocked over like she left it in a hurry. The bathroom door is cracked open, and her scent is so strong in here it’s almost syrupy.
It smells so good I can’t stop my cock from hardening. And as if a lightbulb went off, I know why it smells like this. Why my instincts are flaring out of control.
“Fuck,” I growl, low and feral, going full Alpha in an instant. “She’s in heat.”
I know the moment Cass and Quinn join me, because they both audibly groan like kids in a candy store.
“Damn, where is she?” Cass asks as he notices the same empty nest I noticed a moment earlier.
“Through here.” I shove open the bathroom door and my world fucking stops.
She’s curled on her side on the floor, asleep or unconscious—I’m not sure which.
She’s wrapped herself in a couple of towels, but somehow only managed to cover her torso. The rest of her is bare—her skin clammy and pale.
“Sterling,” Quinn breathes, already dropping to his knees beside her.
I’m right behind him, sinking down and brushing her damp hair back from her face. Her skin is burning up, but she looks like she’s freezing. All cold sweat and flushed cheeks.
I lift her into my arms. She’s so petite. The same thought I had when I pulled her out the water: she fits like she was made for me.
Standing, I turn without a word, intent on her nest. Omegas in heat need nests, comfort, and familiar scents. Jasmine was always at her sweetest in those moments. Being in heat peels back the artifice and lays bare our base needs for connection, and contact.
She snuggles into my chest, rubbing her cheek along my jaw, neck, and shoulder.
“Mmmmmm, JP,” she groans softly, her voice thick with sleep.
My heart beats faster—she’s scent-marking me. And fuck if I don’t love it.
Sterling sinks into my arms, her breath warm and fast against my neck. I try to keep my breathing steady, try to focus on how her body folds into mine. But that ecstatic feeling is already being eaten alive by something else—anger.
How could I not have known she was in trouble? How could I have let her lie on the bathroom floor for even a few minutes, alone, scared, and shivering?
And soon, the anger is swallowed by shame.
The urge to cut and run starts taking up space in my chest. I should set her in her nest and let the others care for her. I should step back before I fuck this up too.
Cass pushes into her bedroom and flips on the soft light by the dresser, casting everything in a golden haze. Quinn’s already moving, grabbing more blankets from the linen closet, tossing pillows into her half-formed nest.
Alphas don’t nest—but the drive to provide, to protect, to comfort our Omegas is etched into our bones. And right now, Quinn’s Alpha recognizes the urgency just as clearly as mine does. This space needs to be safe. It needs to feel like a sanctuary.
I lower her down slowly, gently, easing her into the center of the nest. The moment her body hits the softness, something shifts in her—her limbs curl, her shoulders relax, her face smoothes out like her nervous system knows she’s finally safe.
And for a breath, I think that’s it. That I’ll back off now, give her room to rest.
But she doesn’t let me go.
Even half-asleep, her grip is fierce, urgent.
Her fingers twist in my shirt, her body pulling me toward her with the kind of strength that’s pure instinct.
A growl slips out of me, unbidden—deep and low—but I don’t fight her.
I can’t. Not when every part of her is saying she needs me.
Not when every Alpha instinct I have is screaming that I need to stay.
So I lower myself into her nest, letting her pull me in like I’m the one who belongs here. Like I’m hers. And God help me—I want to be.
Where I expect panic, I find calm.
There’s no crushing fear. No fight-or-flight. Just…stillness. Because she needs me. Me. And I can’t fight how right that feels.
Sure, part of me still wants to knot her. To claim her. To fuck her until the ache in both of us disappears. But that’s not what this is at this moment. Right now, she just needs someone who’ll stay. Someone who’ll hold her through the storm. I can do that for her.
I settle against her and close my eyes for just a second, letting the long-forgotten feeling of closeness—true, bone-deep closeness—wash over me.
Her scent swirls around us, sweet cinnamon and vanilla turned rich and thick with the promise of heat. It lights up my brain like a goddamn drug, settles into my chest and makes the wild restless part of me still. Peaceful.
Sterling shifts again, murmuring in her sleep, and throws a leg over mine, her whole body clinging to me like I’m her lifeline. Her slick is warm against my hip, soaking through the fabric of my jeans. I groan, low and quiet, and a deep purring sound rumbles out of me without permission.
Fuck. I could get used to this.
I run my hand slowly up and down her side, her hip, careful not to stray too far.
Her head tucks under my chin, and I let my fingers map the gentle curve of her waist. She exhales deeply, her body softening, the rigid tension bleeding out of her muscles one breath at a time.
She’s finally relaxing. Finally letting go.
But she’s still overheated. Her skin’s flushed, sweat pooling in the hollows of her collarbone. I press a kiss to her hair and try not to think too hard about how much I want to bury my face between her thighs.
I remember Jasmine—how her body would crash into sleep before the heat truly began. Sometimes a day, sometimes two. Like her system was conserving every bit of energy before the storm hit.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” I whisper, tightening my arms around her, grounding her. Grounding myself.
Sterling sighs again and shifts closer, her nose nuzzling against my neck.
“She’s burning up,” I mutter to Quinn, who’s been kneeling outside her nest this whole time, watching me, trying to gauge if I’m holding it together or about to lose my shit.
He leans in, brushing her sweat-damp hair off her forehead. His fingers are gentle, reverent.
He sighs, big and deep. “What if we had decided to wait? She could’ve been really hurt. I wouldn’t have forgiven myself.”
I feel that. Deep.
“Well, we didn’t wait,” I say, quieter now. “We’re here. She’s okay. That’s what matters.”
But I can still see the edge of panic in him—the tightness in his jaw, the way his hand lingers just a little too long against her skin. Fear like that doesn’t vanish just because you speak reason into the room.
Quinn shifts closer, crouching beside us in her nest now, his hand stroking gently along her arm.
“We need to regulate her temp,” he says.
Turning to where Cass stands in the room, who looks lost and in need of direction, he continues, “We also need to get her hydrated. Cass, can you check the fridge for anything? And get a cool cloth?”
Cass nods, already moving, his boots thudding across the floor as he heads for the kitchen.
I glance at Quinn, meeting his eyes. “Someone’s gonna need to stay with her in the nest at all times. If she wakes up alone, she’ll panic. That heat fog—it’s gonna make everything feel too big, too fast. Especially because she has no reference point.”
Quinn nods slowly. “Agreed. I can take first shift if you want to?—”
“No,” I cut in, quiet but firm. “She pulled me in. She wanted me here. I’ll stay…for now.”
I swallow the words I don’t say out loud: I’ll stay until I can’t.
Because I already feel it—my Alpha responding to her scent, to the heat simmering just beneath her skin. Her slick, damp and sweet, is pressed against my hip like a fucking promise, and right now I’m holding the line. But I know I won’t be able to ignore it forever.
Whatever woo-woo shit makes scent matches happen, whatever biology is wired into our bones—it’s real.
And it’s dangerous. I can feel how much more I want her than I’ve ever wanted anybody, and how compatible we will be.
How easy it would be to give in. Dopamine floods my brain when I imagine sliding into her for the first time.
I won’t be able to stop a rut when her heat fully hits. I know it. And I still can’t see a version of myself that wouldn’t get completely pulled under, scorched from the inside out, if I let go and take what I want so desperately.
Fuck, I’m half hard every damn time I breathe her in. And every time I see her, I just seem to hurt her. The feeling of it is deep and sharp, like wanting something I know I shouldn’t touch.
How the fuck does that even work?
The thought of leaving—of pulling myself out of this nest, out of her arms—makes the hole in my heart feel like a canyon.
It leaves me winded. Hollow. A deep ache I don’t want to name gnaws at my chest, and the idea of not being here, not being the one she reaches for, feels like a loss I’ll never recover from.
A small sound escapes her lips—just a soft whimper—but it sears through me like fire. Her fingers twitch, seeking, reaching for something, and I catch her hand in mine. I lace our fingers together and the joy of it is painful.
She clutches at me like she’s been waiting for me to come and is afraid I’ll leave.
“We’re here, little love,” I murmur, my voice rough with something deeper than I can name. “You’re not alone anymore.”
Cass comes back in with a bowl of water and a stack of clean towels. Quinn soaks one, wrings it out, and gently lays it across her forehead.
She flinches at the contact, then softens. A small sigh escapes her.
“Shhhh,” I say again, leaning closer, brushing her cheek. “You’re safe. Sleep love.”
Her lashes flutter. And then in a barely audible voice, she says, “JP?”
It’s a whisper. A question. A plea.
I swallow hard. “Yeah, darlin’. I’m here.”
She shifts again, her hips twitching, another wave of slick soaking through her sleep shorts. The scent of her heat is dizzying, and I force myself to stay steady, to not let my instincts take over. Even asleep, she slowly grinds her core against me.
A low groan escapes me before I can hold it in. “How the fuck is this supposed to work?” I mutter under my breath, a humorless laugh catching in my throat. I glance at my brothers.
Quinn is breathing hard beside me, heat burning in his eyes, and Cass stands at the foot of the bed, jaw clenched like he’s holding on to his control with both fists.
“We can do this,” Quinn says, voice rough but steady. “We can be here for her and give her the experience she deserves. But JP—” His eyes cut to mine, serious, pleading. “Her Omega wants you here. She said so. It’ll distress her if you’re absent.”
“I can’t, man!” I bark, the words too loud in the small space, and Sterling flinches beside me.
Guilt instantly rolls over me. I lower my voice, softer now.
“I can’t do it. But…” I suck in a breath, exhale slowly, trying to ground myself.
“I can still support her. I can take care of her in other ways.” Even though it will kill me to deny her when she seeks me out.
I look at them both—really look—let them see me laid bare in a way I don’t usually allow. The bond between us is strong, but I’ve kept certain doors shut, certain parts of myself locked away.
Not tonight.
I want them to know what I’m feeling, even if I can’t say it with the right words. Even if it comes out messy and rough and not enough.
This is all I’ve got.
Cass gives a stiff nod. And Quinn drops his head but doesn’t argue.
“We’ll take turns sitting with her while she sleeps. One of us should grab a change of clothes and some heat supplements from the store,” Cass says.
“I’ll go,” I offer, feeling like some fresh air and space will be good for me. Clear my head. “It’ll get me out of the house for a minute.”
But the second her fingers slip from mine, and I start to sit up, her body jolts, sensing my intent to leave.
“Wait,” she gasps, and it’s ragged and desperate. “Please…don’t go, JP.”
And fuck, that’s it. I lie back down beside her, tucking myself into the curve of her body as gently as I can.
“I’m not going anywhere.” I press a kiss to her temple.
She lets out a shuddery breath and turns her face into my chest as I settle back in. I lie back and close my eyes, focusing on dragging long low breaths in and out of me. I lie like that, unmoving. Just breathing and holding her tight for a long time.
I’m vaguely aware of the light being turned off and the sounds of Cass and Quinn talking in the kitchen as I feel sleep starting to pull me under.
The last thing I’m aware of before sleep takes me is the feel and sound of her soft breath against my chest.