Chapter 22 Jasper
Jasper
Every cell in my body is on high alert, muscles coiled tight, senses heightened to an almost painful degree. I pace the length of the living room, turn, pace back. Again. Again. The repetitive movement does nothing to ease the tension building under my skin.
Upstairs, Rowan is suffering. Alone. By choice, yes, but that doesn't make it any easier to bear. Her scent permeates the entire house now—sweet and ripe and desperate in a way that calls to something primal in me. In all of us.
Theo sits on the couch, outwardly calm but I can smell the anxiety rolling off him in waves. His leg bounces in a nervous rhythm, the only visible sign of his distress.
Wells stands by the window, his back straight, his expression carefully controlled as he stares out at nothing. But the white-knuckled grip he has on his coffee mug betrays him.
"This is ridiculous," I finally snap, unable to contain the frustration any longer. "She's in heat. A first heat. She shouldn't be alone."
"She asked for space," Wells counters, not turning from the window. "We need to respect that."
I growl, the sound rumbling unbidden from my chest. "She doesn't know what she needs. She's never done this before."
"And you have?" Wells finally turns, one eyebrow raised in challenge. "Experienced a first heat?"
"No, but I've been around enough omegas to know—"
"This isn't about other omegas," Theo interrupts, his voice gentle but firm. "This is about Rowan. Who has made it very clear she values her independence."
"Independence won't help her when she's delirious with fever," I argue. "This isn't just about comfort, it's about safety. First heats can be dangerous, especially at her age."
This gets Theo's attention. As the only one of us with any sort of medical training -- even if it’s for cats--, he understands the physiological risks better than either Wells or I.
"He's not wrong," Theo admits reluctantly. "Dehydration, hormone spikes, disorientation... there are legitimate health concerns."
"So we what—break down her door? Force our help on her?" Wells shakes his head. "That's not the answer."
"No one's suggesting force," Theo clarifies quickly. "But maybe one of us should check on her. Offer water, food, reassurance that we're here if she needs us."
I open my mouth to volunteer, then close it again. Of the three of us, I'm the worst choice right now. My control is hanging by a thread, my alpha instincts screaming to protect, to claim, to mate. Rowan doesn't need that energy anywhere near her vulnerable state.
"I'll go," Theo offers, already standing. "I can approach it from a medical perspective. Keep it clinical."
Wells nods in agreement, but I'm not satisfied. Clinical isn't what Rowan needs right now. She doesn't need a doctor. She needs...
What? What does she need that I can give her? That any of us can give her, when she's made it clear she wants to handle this alone?
Before Theo can make it to the stairs, a sound stops all of us in our tracks. A whimper—small, pained, desperate—drifting down from Rowan's room. It hits me like a physical blow, sending a surge of protective rage through my system that nearly brings me to my knees.
Something in me snaps.
I'm up the stairs before I register moving, Theo and Wells's startled voices fading behind me. Outside Rowan's door, her scent is so concentrated it makes my head swim—sweet and sharp and needy in a way that makes my alpha howl.
I pound on the door, harder than intended. "Rowan. Open the damn door."
Silence. Then, "Go away, Jasper."
Her voice is weak, threaded with pain that she's trying and failing to hide. It only fuels the fire burning through me.
"Not happening," I growl. "Open the door or I swear to god I'll break it down."
"You wouldn't dare," she challenges, but there's a waver in her voice that tells me she's not as certain as she'd like to be.
"Try me," I say, my voice dropping lower, rougher. "You know exactly how I feel about boundaries right now."
A rustling sound, then footsteps. The lock clicks, but the door doesn't open. I wait, forcing myself to be patient, to give her this small measure of control.
Finally, the door cracks open an inch, then another. Just enough for me to see her—flushed, trembling, her pupils blown wide with need she's fighting with every ounce of her considerable stubbornness.
The sight of her like this, vulnerable in a way I've never seen before, hits me harder than I expected. My anger softens, replaced by an ache that has nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the desperate need to ease her suffering.
"You're having a heat," I say, stating the obvious because I don't trust myself with anything more complex. "A real one. Not a spike."
She nods, her lower lip caught between her teeth. "I noticed."
Despite everything, a small laugh escapes me. Even now, in the throes of her first heat, she's still Rowan—sharp-tongued and defiant.
"You can't do this alone," I tell her, gentler now but no less firm. "It's not safe."
"I've been handling things on my own for a long time," she says, but the words lack conviction. Even as she speaks, a shudder runs through her, and she grips the doorframe to stay upright.
"And how's that working out for you right now?" I ask, echoing my words from earlier.
Her eyes flash with familiar irritation before another wave of heat hits her, making her gasp and curl in on herself. My hands twitch with the need to reach for her, to soothe, to hold, but I force them to stay at my sides. This has to be her choice.
Behind me, I sense rather than hear Theo and Wells approaching. They stop a respectful distance away, but their scents mingle with mine, creating a potent mixture of alpha pheromones that makes Rowan whimper again, her body responding instinctively even as her mind resists.
"I don't know what to do," she finally admits, the words clearly costing her. "I don't—I've never—this isn't how I thought it would happen."
The raw vulnerability in her voice breaks something open in my chest. This isn't about desire anymore, or instinct, or the complicated attraction that's been building between us all for weeks. This is about Rowan— who is scared, overwhelmed, and in need of help she doesn't know how to ask for.
"Fuck," I swear under my breath, running a hand through my hair.
Because the truth is, I don't know what to do either. None of us does. This situation, three alphas, one omega experiencing her first heat, a tangle of emotions and attractions that defies simple categorization... this isn't covered in any manual.
We're all flying blind here, guided only by instincts that can't be trusted and feelings too new and fragile to name.
But one thing I do know: I'm not leaving her to suffer alone. Not when every cell in my body is screaming to protect her. Not when the thought of her in pain makes me want to tear the world apart with my bare hands.
Not when, against all my better judgment, I've allowed myself to care about her far more than I ever intended.