Chapter 27 Brodie
brODIE
One second, we were standing outside on the porch, half-distracted, sipping coffee and talking about clearing away the last of the snow. The next, every muscle in my body goes tight.
Tyler stops mid-sentence, his usual easygoing expression slipping into something sharper. His fingers twitch around his mug, his shoulders locking with a tension that mirrors my own.
Ethan, who had been half-listening from where he stands by the door, stills completely.
“Where’s Sophie?” Tyler asks, his voice lower, tighter than before.
I already know before I even take a breath. My body knows, my instincts screaming at me as my nostrils flare slightly, inhaling deep.
And then—fuck. My hands curl into fists as my spine straightens, the primal need to move, to go to her, slamming into my chest.
“She’s nesting,” I murmur, voice raw with something that is equal parts awe and something darker, something more primal.
Ethan’s reaction is immediate. His body goes rigid, his jaw flexing, his control fragile. The words settle between us, heavy and charged with meaning.
Sophie’s heat is coming. And it’s coming fast.
A moment stretches, heavy with anxiety, before I step toward the stairs. But Ethan grips my arm, fingers like iron bands.
“We can’t just go up there,” he grits out, but there’s a wildness in his eyes, barely contained. His Alpha instincts war with his reason, his need to protect, to soothe, to claim, clawing at the surface.
Tyler exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “If she needs us, she’ll let us know,” he says, but the way his fingers flex at his sides tells me he’s barely holding himself together.
Then, suddenly, the air changes again.
Sophie’s scent sharpens, deepens, rolling through the house in thick, intoxicating waves. It’s rich with heat, sweet and overwhelming, clinging to every surface, every breath.
It calls to us, her body announcing itself the way nature intended, the way an unclaimed Omega in pre-heat does.
The reaction is instant.
My muscles coil, tension snapping through every nerve like a live wire. Beside me, Ethan’s grip tightens before he rips his hand away like touching me burns him.
Tyler lets out a sharp curse under his breath, his head tilting back as if fighting the need to scent the air again, to inhale more of her, to go to her.
Every instinct inside of me demands that I move, that I follow the pull upstairs to where Sophie is tucked away, probably tangled in a mess of blankets and our clothes, desperate for the scent of her pack to surround her.
It would be so easy. Just a few steps, just one door.
My jaw locks. My entire body burns.
The tension between us is suffocating, thick with unspoken need and the raw, undeniable pull toward Sophie. Every breath carries her scent—sweet, intoxicating, ours—and it’s unraveling us by the second.
Tyler paces, fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight as he grits out, “She needs us.”
Ethan is still, too still, but his eyes are dark, flickering with a war he’s barely winning. “She does,” he agrees, voice rough, pained. “But we can’t push her. She’ll come to us when she’s ready.”
My body is screaming to go to her, to answer the call of our Omega, to claim and mark and make sure no one ever questions who she belongs to.
MINE, my Alpha roars, fierce and territorial.
But she deserves more than instinct, more than a decision made under the haze of heat and primal need.
I rake a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. “We’ll be everything for her. Whatever she needs—however she needs us. We’ll take care of her. We’ll hold her through it, ease the ache, give her everything—knot her until she so sated she can’t fucking move.”
My voice drops, rough and edged with restraint, “But we won’t bite her.”
Tyler swears under his breath, his frustration bleeding into the air, but he nods, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Even if she begs,” Ethan mutters, like he needs to hear himself say it out loud, like he needs to make it real.
The words land like a vow, solidifying between us, and even though every muscle in my body is screaming to take, to claim, to make her ours—we won’t because Sophie deserves the choice.
When the heat fades, when the instincts settle, she’ll wake in our arms and know with certainty that we are hers because she wants us, not just because her body needs us. And that? That’s worth waiting for.
We won’t claim her in heat.
Even if she begs.
Even if it destroys us.
I force my legs to move, to turn away, my body rigid with restraint. “We need to get out of here,” I grind out, voice rough.
Tyler lets out a rough laugh, humorless and full of strain. “What, and let her scent up this whole damn house while we’re stuck outside like a bunch of animals waiting for scraps?”
Ethan doesn’t say anything. He just stalks toward the front door and grabs his coat like he needs to get out before his self-control snaps entirely. I follow him because it’s either that or stay here and break every promise I just made to myself.
“We’re shoveling the driveway,” Ethan says, yanking the door open.
“We already shoveled the driveway,” Tyler mutters, but he’s following us outside anyway, the cold air slamming into us like a much-needed slap in the face.
The cold does little to cool the fire burning in my veins.
I grip the shovel harder than necessary, driving it into the packed-down snow with more force than I should.
My body is coiled tight, my muscles aching with restraint, my cock so hard it aches in my pants, but I keep digging into the snow, throwing it into useless piles, letting the physical exertion work through the tension.
Tyler lets out a grunt, leaning on his own shovel. His usually playful smirk is absent, replaced by something more frustrated, more serious. “This is torture.”
I ignore him, shoving another scoop of snow aside.
“She’s up there, in our clothes,” Tyler continues, his voice dropping into something rough, something almost pained. “I bet she’s buried in our shirts, our scent all over her. You know she’s thinking about us.” As he speaks, he adjust his own cock.
Ethan makes a rough sound, barely more than a growl. “I know,” he grits out, gripping the handle of his shovel like it’s the only thing keeping him anchored to the spot. His breathing is heavier than it should be, his shoulders tense beneath his coat.
We all know.
We all fucking know.
Sophie is upstairs, her body preparing for her first real heat, a shift so natural but so dangerous for an unmated Omega. Her instincts will take over, and we won’t be able to stop her from needing us, from calling for us.
She’ll be slick and desperate, her scent filling every inch of her nest. She’ll want hands on her, mouths on her, knots inside of her, tying her to us in the most primal, unbreakable way possible.
“Fucking nature,” Tyler mutters, stabbing his shovel into the snow like it personally offended him.
Ethan exhales through his nose, long and slow, before finally glancing up at the house. His gaze lingers on Sophie’s window, his jaw clenching before he looks away. “We’re not going to survive this, are we?” He gives a rueful chuckle that lacks any real humor.
I don’t answer, All I know is that we made a choice. And when Sophie does call for us, when she asks—really asks—we’ll be there.
Not because instinct demands it.
But because we love her.
Because she’s ours.
And soon, she’ll know it too.