Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
REIYANA
W armth.
It wrapped around her, steady and solid, anchoring her to the present. Reiya stirred, reluctant to leave the cocoon of comfort, her mind swimming through the hazy remnants of exhaustion. The silk sheets beneath her were cool, contrasting with the heat pressed against her back.
Slowly, she inhaled. The scent surrounding her was familiar—spice laced with something earthier.
Alarik.
Awareness returned in slow waves, peeling away the remnants of sleep.
She lay curled against him, her back tucked into the cradle of his chest, one arm draped heavily over her waist, holding her close.
The steady rise and fall of his breath brushed against her nape, warm and even, each exhale a quiet reassurance.
Her fingers curled against the sheets, uncertainty warring with something softer—an emotion settling deep in her bones, quiet and unnamed.
She should move, pull away.
But she didn’t want to.
The events of the earlier hours returned in fragments—the unbearable heatwaves, the fever in her blood, the aching need that had nearly consumed her whole.
And then, them —Kaelen and Alarik. The way they’d come to her, held her, soothed her through the worst of it. The way they had touched her—not to stake a claim, but to comfort. To ease .
Her cheeks burned as her body stirred with the memory. The heat lingered, but it was different now—no longer desperate, no longer overwhelming. She felt it in her heart, no longer in her blood.
She shifted slightly, the movement drawing a soft, unconscious sound from Alarik—the quiet, satisfied male rumble that sent a thrill through her. His grip tightened, fingers splaying over her stomach, as if he refused to let go, even in sleep.
Her heart did a little flip.
She’d never been held like this before. Not as an Omega. Not as a woman.
Not as herself .
She hadn’t expected Alarik to be the one giving her this first experience. Kaelen had always been bold, unafraid to chase what he wanted, but Alarik was . . . different.
He was watchful, careful, distant in ways she hadn’t always understood.
Yet now, he held her as if it were the most natural thing in the world—like they’d woken up this way every day for years, his presence a shield around her.
She scanned the dimly lit chamber, noting the soft glow of lanterns painting the carved wooden walls in golden light. The faint scent of chamomile still lingered in the air, mingling with the lingering traces of her own Heat.
Exhaling slowly, she let her body melt just a little more, fingers brushing lightly over the thick arm resting against her waist. His hand was warm, calloused from years of wielding a bow, rough in contrast to the silk pooling around them.
“You’re awake,” he said.
She jolted.
His voice was husky, rough with sleep. It sent warmth curling through her .
She hesitated, the words tangling before they could form. Alarik shifted behind her, his arm retracting as though realizing where it was. But instead of fully pulling away, he remained close, letting her keep his warmth.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
She licked her lower lip, pressing a hand lightly to her stomach. The fevered haze was gone, and while the remnants still hummed beneath her skin, it wasn’t unbearable.
“Better,” she admitted.
Turning slightly, she shifted just enough to glance up at him. Lambent golden eyes met hers, unreadable in the dim light, but there was something there—a quiet watchfulness, a restraint that had always been present but now carried an added dimension.
She searched his face, the hard angles softened by sleep, the faint crease in his brow that never quite disappeared—the one she itched to smooth away with her fingertips.
She wanted to ask: ‘What are you thinking? ’
Instead, she said, “You stayed.”
He blinked. “I did.”
Reiya wet her lower lip. Unlike Kaelen, Alarik didn’t wield words easily. He wasn’t effortless in his affections, nor did he offer them often. But when he did, it was without embellishment—simple, unwavering, and real.
He reached out, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. His touch was featherlight, though she felt it all the way to her toes.
“You called for us.” His voice was low, a heavy rumble. “You were in pain.” A pause. “And you needed us.”
Her throat felt tight. She had needed them, and they’d answered.
She swallowed, searching his face. “Does that bother you?”
His jaw tightened slightly, and for a moment, she thought he might pull away. But he didn’t. His fingers brushed absently over the sheet between them, as though searching for something to ground him.
“No,” he said finally. “But it terrifies me.”
The question slipped out, barely a whisper. “Why?”
Alarik’s eyes shifted to their hands, lying mere inches apart. Hesitation warred in his expression—an uncertainty she rarely saw in him. Then, slowly, he turned his palm upward in silent offering.
Reiya stared at it for a beat before lifting her hand, pressing it lightly against his.
A quiet breath left him. “Because it’s easy to care for you,” he admitted, his thumb brushing the back of her hand in a slow caress. “Easier than it should be.”
A strange, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in her chest at his words. It settled somewhere deep, a place she hadn’t yet decided whether to protect or surrender.
She exhaled softly. “I feel . . . like a troublesome woman. I’m sorry.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, the barest smirk tugging at his lips. “So shy now. What happened to the woman bold enough to kiss my cheek after the archery lesson? Where did she go?”
Heat flared across her face. “Ah. That happened, didn’t it?”
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly—enough to make him look so much like Kaelen. That smile alone was enough to spread warmth in her stomach.
She cleared her throat. “Where is Kaelen?”
“He went to speak to Solmaz.”
“You know Solmaz?”
“Kaelen does. I only know of her. He suspects she holds valuable information. There’s more to her than meets the eye.”
Before she could gather her thoughts, the door eased open, and Kaelen stepped inside. His eyes swept the room, pausing briefly where she still lay curled against Alarik. Something flickered in his gaze—relief, maybe something deeper—before he crossed the room with easy steps.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice warm.
She nodded, shifting slightly beneath the covers. “How long have I been asleep?”
He moved closer, resting a hip against the edge of the bed. “A few hours. It passed quickly.”
Her gaze flickered to Alarik, then back to Kaelen. “It’s kind of you both to stay.”
Alarik huffed a quiet sound, his thumb absently brushing over the back of her wrist where his fingers still rested. “Where else would we be?”
The certainty in his voice stirred a flutter inside—a warmth she didn’t know yet how to trust.
She wasn’t used to this.
With Castiel, there’d been words of comfort, promises of devotion, but beneath them always a shifting ground.
At the time, she hadn’t seen it. She’d wanted so badly to believe that someone would stand with her, fight for her, that she hadn’t noticed the cracks forming beneath the promises he made.
In the end, Castiel had proven a stranger in all the ways that mattered most.
But Kaelen and Alarik didn’t make promises. They simply stayed.
Without fanfare, without expectation.
The difference unsettled her more than she could admit. It was steady in a way that made her ache, because it asked nothing—and because, for once, it felt terrifyingly real.
She glanced back at Kaelen. “Alarik mentioned you spoke to Solmaz.”
His mouth quirked, but she didn’t miss the tick in his jaw. “It’s a long conversation, and I doubt you’re in the mood to discuss politics right now.”
Reiya arched a brow. “I’d rather not be left in the dark about things concerning me.”
His lips twitched. “Then again, I’d expect nothing less.”
But instead of launching into whatever he’d learned, his expression softened, his gaze drifting over her face, assessing.
“But first, tell me, how are you feeling?”
The question caught her off guard. She hesitated, flexing her fingers against the sheets. “Better,” she said after a moment. “Tired, but . . . clearer.”
Kaelen nodded as if that was the answer he’d expected. “Good. You should rest more if you need it.”
She shook her head and nodded toward the window, where the sky had deepened into dusk. “It’s already this late. The Xians will worry about us.”
“We’ll return to the caravanserai soon.” He hesitated, then met her gaze. “Reiya, Solmaz mentioned you’ve been taking Heat suppression remedies.”
She nodded. “I purchased some at Vhalis Thorn before the caravan reached Zohara. It was soon after Jodhar recognized me as an Omega. I thought if I took it religiously, I could hide a little longer.”
He sat fully on the side of the bed.
“The workings of an Omega’s body remain one of the great mysteries of the nine kingdoms,” he said.
“Physicians spend their entire lives trying to unravel it, yet no one truly understands why some Omegas Awaken as young as four, while others—like you—much later. Why some experience Heat several times a year, and others only once. Why suppression remedies work for some but fail for others.”
Alarik’s hand flexed briefly where it rested against her wrist. “Suppression remedies might work in a pinch, but eventually, as the body adjusts, they stop working. Also, just because they hide your Omega nature from others, they don’t spare you from the pain brought on by Heat symptoms.”
Her lips pressed together. She was afraid of that answer, but hearing it confirmed felt different—like a door closing on a belief she’d clung to for too long.
Kaelen studied her carefully before speaking again. “Rather than relying on suppression remedies, I want to suggest: rely on us.”
She blinked up at him.