Chapter Three
Frankie
T here are few things more terrifying than being escorted to a stranger’s house by four muscled men who look like they were built in a government lab with a creatine drip and commitment issues.
But what’s worse is realizing their house smells like musk, pine,and testosterone.
I hesitate on the doorstep, taking my time since my fight-or-flight response has apparently defaulted to flirt-and-faint.
“Make yourself comfortable!” Finn beams, stepping fully inside.
Right. Comfortable . The perfect word to describe an omega in a house full of alphas, saturated in pheromones and primal tension.
Rory remains behind me as Jax and Theo step inside after Finn, and the scent that hits me as they pass is enough to make my knees buckle. I’m pretty certain this isn’t a heat, but I'm also concerned that the warmth rolling through me might've actually triggered early ovulation.
“Where should I put my things?” I croak.
“Anywhere,” Finn says brightly. “Or—wait—let me help! I’ll carry it! I love bags!”
Finn hurries to take my things, and Theo smirks at me as he stretches his arms from the center of the living room.
“You okay there, sweetheart?”
No, I am not okay. In fact, I am one scented hoodie away from climbing someone and screaming claim me, Daddy Protein.
“Totally fine,” I lie—
Right as I trip over the doormat on my way inside.
I stumble into the living room, and three things hit me.
One: The smell.
Two: The clutter.
Three: The painting.
Above the fireplace, there’s an oil portrait of a shirtless Rory, painted like a Renaissance war general about to lead an assault on your virtue.
I stare. I cannot not stare.
“Team Christmas shoot,” Theo says casually, following my gaze. “Coach burned the final edit.”
I tear my eyes away and scan the rest of the room.
“Tell me that’s not food,” I say, pointing at what appears to be a raw steak.
Theo shrugs. “It’s meal prep.”
“It’s on the radiator .”
“It was Rory’s turn,” Jax deadpans from one of the couches.
“Hey! You said room temperature helps absorption!” Rory calls.
“I didn’t say on the radiator .”
I take in the rest of the scene. There are towels everywhere, shoes stacked under the TV, and three dirty protein shakers. I squint at a kettlebell sitting on a pizza box and note that there are no visible cleaning supplies.
Well: this house is evidence of what happens when four rugby-playing alphas live together unsupervised. There is no law here—only biceps.
“Careful, sweetheart. You’re looking a little... heated ,” Theo says as he settles on the couch and pats the seat next to him. “Why don’t you come and rest for a minute?”
I step back like he’s contagious. “I’m fine, thank you. If anything, it’s… probably just the steak fumes. Or the painting.”
My eyes flicker back to the fireplace.
“You’re flushed,” Finn says gently, appearing from the kitchen and handing me a mug. “Here—it’s chamomile tea. Omega safe. I double-checked. Then triple-checked.”
I take it, sip it, and immediately regret it.
“ Ugh . I'm sorry, Finn, but I swear, I can taste the testosterone,” I grimace. “Wait: is this mug… sticky ?”
“About that,” Rory says. “We ran out of clean ones this morning. But don’t worry: there's a good chance it’s only pre-workout residue.”
“A good chance ?!” I repeat.
“Better than the blender cup,” Jax comments without looking up. “That one’s cursed.”
“Oh year. That thing vibes wrong,” Theo laughs.
And I swear, the room tilts a little.
Apparently, radiator steak and alpha air is not a recommended combination for an overwhelmed omega.
“Hey, Frankie,” Finn steps closer, his large hand brushing my arm. “You okay?”
I open my mouth to answer, and what comes out is… not a word.
It’s a sound. A noise .
All four alphas freeze. Even the steak stops sizzling.
Theo blinks. “Was that—?”
“No!” I blurt. “It was dust. In my throat.”
Rory narrows his eyes. “You purred .”
“I did not !” I protest.
“You did,” Theo smirks.
“Yeah, you definitely did,” Finn nods. “Jax?”
I glare over at Jax, whose eyes flicker between me, Finn, and Theo.
“Yeah. You purred.”
Theo whoops in victory, and my shoulders sag dramatically. Honestly, I don't have the energy for this.
“I… think I should go to my room,” I announce.
I try to walk, but it’s more of a stagger.
“Should we take bets on how long she lasts before she starts humping the pillows?” Theo whispers behind me.
“Ten minutes,” Jax mutters.
“Five,” Rory says grimly.
Finn gasps. “ Guys . She has ears .”
I do, and I am using them for later revenge.
Rory clears his throat and steps forward. “Come on, Frankie: I’ll give you the tour. Let the others —” He glances toward Finn and Theo, “—do something useful.”
“Hey!” Theo protests, flopping deeper onto the couch. “I’m morally supervising.”
I follow Rory out of the room, glad for the fresher air and the slightly less testosterone-saturated living room. He shows me the bathroom (“ don’t use the third towel hook; it falls off ”), the kitchen (“ don’t trust the fridge ”), and the upstairs hallway (“ Jax doesn’t speak before 9 a.m. ”).
He gestures to a door at the end of the hall. “That’s you.”
“Thanks,” I say, trying not to sound winded.
I open the door, and I have to admit: it’s not terrible.
There’s technically a bed, and four walls. The window opens, which already makes it better than my last apartment, and there's even a bookcase.
But in the corner of the room is a haphazard pile of towels, hoodies, and—
Wait, is that an oven mitt ?!
I blink, trying to make sense of what on earth I'm currently looking at.
“Did someone try to… build me a nest ?”
Theo’s voice pipes up from behind me before Rory can answer.
“You’re welcome.”
I spin around. “You?”
“I supervised,” he says proudly. “Finn did the folding.”
“You used... gym towels?”
“Only the clean ones.”
I stare at him. He stares back.
“…Are they actually clean?”
He shrugs. “Alright, so they're clean-adjacent.”
I close my eyes. “Theo, nesting is supposed to be private. Sacred , even. Not something constructed by a rugby-playing alpha with boundary issues and a protein shake addiction.”
“What? I was helping!” he protests. “You looked stressed. I figured pre-nesting stimulation wouldn’t hurt.”
Rory growls, and the noise is so deep and low that it almost sounds like he’s malfunctioning.
“Wait, did I say stimulation? I meant wellness support !” Theo smirks. “Completely non-sexual. Like yoga. With towels.”
“I added my pillow spray,” Finn offers, appearing beside Theo.
“…What scent?” I ask, fearing the worst.
“Cinnamon swirl!” he beams.
“Finn!” I hiss. “That’s a mating trigger .”
“Oh.” He goes still. “Oh no. I thought it was… festive?”
I sit on the bed. Or maybe collapse. It’s hard to tell.
My hands cover my face. My skin’s too hot, my brain’s too loud, and my scent blockers are holding on by a thread at this point.
“I’m going to die here,” I mumble. “In a towel nest full of mating triggers, surrounded by emotionally constipated gym rats.”
Jax appears in the doorway, calm and blessedly normal.
“Nah, you won't. We’ll take shifts, and keep an eye on you. We’re not complete idiots.”
“ That… remains to be seen,” I sigh. “Besides, I don’t need babysitting. I’m not in heat.”
Theo raises a brow. “You sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m sure about my own body, Theo,” I snap. “Despite the hoodie cuddling and the cinnamon-scented booby traps, I’m fine . Overwhelmed? Yes. Feral? Possibly. In heat? No. ”
Finn lifts a hand. “But you purred.”
“Because I’m overstimulated .”
“So you’re saying you’re just... sensitive ,” Rory says as he folds his arms.
“I’m saying I've been practically attacked by pheromones and at least one hoodie since setting foot in this room.”
Theo grins. “So dramatic.”
“Don’t start with me,” I warn. “You built me a scent nest with gym towels and an oven mitt . If anyone’s dramatic, it’s you .”
“Hey,” Finn mumbles, “I thought the oven mitt made it homely.”
Jax nods, straight-faced. “It did.”
“Look, I get that everyone’s a little… keyed up.” I take a breath. “But this isn’t a heat spike. It’s just scent overload. I’m in a new place, surrounded by new alphas, and my brain short-circuited. That’s it. I just need to decompress.”
There’s a moment of silence, then Rory mutters, “I'm still gonna install some scent blockers.”
“That… would be great, actually. Thank you,” I sigh, collapsing back into the pillows. “While you’re at it, please keep Theo away from anything lavender-scented or remotely pillow shaped.”
Theo throws his hands up. “ One hoodie . One helpful, slightly sexy hoodie; and suddenly I’m banned from home goods.”
“You’re banned from me goods,” I mutter.
Finn lets out a high-pitched sound that might be a giggle or a wheeze, and I look up.
Yep—they’re still there. Theo smirking, Finn nervously adjusting a blanket, Jax already planning emergency evacuation routes, and Rory, hands on his hips and glaring down at me as if he can scowl my hormones into submission.
“Why,” I groan into the pillow, “are you all still here?”
“In case you pass out again,” Rory says, perfectly serious.
Theo laughs. “Nah. It’s actually in case you hump something.”
“I’m here to stop Finn from adding more pillow spray,” Jax says without missing a beat.
“Did you have to bring that up already?” Finn huffs. “I said I was sorry!”
It’s all too much.
The scent. The noise. The hovering. The fact that I can still feel cinnamon in the air.
“Okay!” I blurt, hands flying up. “I really think you’ve all done enough for now.”
They freeze.
“I appreciate it,” I add quickly, softer this time. “I do. I know you’re trying to help. But I just… I need space.”
Finn lifts a finger. “But I was just gonna -”
“ Finn. ”
“We were only trying to help,” Theo shrugs.
“Yeah, well, I don’t want your foreplay-nest right now,” I grumble.
“It’s wellness —”
“ No! ” I cut him off. “No cinnamon-scented offerings, no protein-drenched hoodies, and definitely no more unsolicited pine-fogged pheromones in. My. Room.”
Theo opens his mouth. Closes it. Then tries again.
“Technically, it’s our —”
“Do you want to die, Theo?”
He runs.
Jax vanishes, too, and Finn backs out slowly, until only Rory remains.
I throw him a look so sharp it could cut diamonds.
“Just making sure they actually leave,” he shrugs.
“I will throw that oven mitt at your head.”
There is a beat of silence.
“…Fair.”
He closes the door behind him, and I step up toward it and turn the lock, securing myself in as Finn’s hushed voice comes through from the other side.
“She’s majestic even when she’s threatening our lives.”
“Shut up, ” Theo laughs at him.
Then, silence .
Sweet, blessed, cinnamon-free silence.
I am not okay; but as I collapse face-down onto the bed, I can't help but think of how at least, for now, I am alone.