Chapter 30
THIRTY
HOLLY
Kai’s car purrs along the winding mountain road, headlights cutting through the growing darkness.
The silence between us feels weighted with something I can’t quite name—a sort of vulnerable expectation.
His bandaged hand rests lightly on the steering wheel, the white gauze stark against his tanned skin.
“You okay to drive with that hand?” I ask, partly out of genuine concern and partly to break the quiet.
“I’ve driven with worse,” he says with a half-smile. “Broke several fingers on both hands in a snowboarding accident once. Still made it down the mountain and to the hospital, all by myself.”
“That was incredibly stupid and dangerous,” I inform him mildly.
He winks at me, some of his usual charm returning. “Story of my life, Hollipop.”
We turn onto a narrow dirt road that I wouldn’t have noticed if I’d been driving. The sports car bounces over the uneven terrain, making me grab the door handle.
“Sorry,” Kai says, slowing down. “Not exactly the ideal vehicle for off-roading.”
“Where exactly are we going?” I peer through the windshield at the dense forest surrounding us. “I thought the hot springs were on the other side of town.”
“The public one where the tourists go is.” He navigates around a fallen branch. “But there are others. This one is smaller, but more…locally significant.”
The car comes to a stop in a small clearing. Kai kills the engine, and suddenly we’re enveloped in the profound silence of the wilderness. No traffic noise, no hum of electronics—just the soft whisper of wind through pine needles and the distant call of a night bird.
“Come on.” Kai gets out, and I follow suit, zipping up my jacket against the evening chill.
He leads me along a barely visible path into the trees.
The moon is nearly full tonight, casting enough silvery light through the branches that we can see our way without flashlights.
After about five minutes of walking, I detect a subtle shift in the air—warmer, more humid, with a faint mineral scent.
“Almost there,” Kai says, his voice hushed as if we’re entering a sacred space.
We round a cluster of boulders, and I stop in my tracks.
Before us lies a small, perfectly circular pool, perhaps fifteen feet across.
Unlike the larger hot springs I’ve seen in photos around town, this one doesn’t steam.
Instead, its surface is mirror-still, reflecting the stars above with such clarity it’s as if we’re looking at two night skies—one above, one below.
But what truly catches my breath is the water itself. It shimmers—not with reflected moonlight, but with something that seems to come from within. A subtle, pulsing glow that shifts between blue and silver.
“What is that?” I whisper, unable to look away.
“The source,” Kai says simply. He moves to the edge of the pool and kneels, his movements careful and reverent. “This is where it all begins. This spring is closest to the underground water source that feeds the entire valley.”
I approach slowly, drawn by the otherworldly beauty of the pool. The bottom is lined with smooth white stones that seem to amplify the strange luminescence.
“Is it safe?” I ask, crouching beside him.
“More than safe.” Kai cups his good hand and dips it into the water. “This is the water used in the designation ceremony. Every child born in Heat Mountain will drink from this pool when they’re still young enough that they haven’t presented yet.”
He lifts his hand, the water in his palm glowing softly. “Try it,” he urges. “Just a sip.”
I hesitate. “I’ve already presented as an omega.”
“Just trust me. Try it.”
Something in his expression, so earnest and open, convinces me. I cup my hands as he did and dip them into the pool. The water is surprisingly warm—not hot like the springs, but like sun-warmed silk against my skin. I lift my hands to my lips and take a small sip.
The effect is immediate and astonishing. Warmth blooms in my chest and radiates outward, flowing through my limbs like honey. My omega senses—normally dulled by years of suppressants—suddenly sharpen. I can smell Kai’s alpha scent with perfect clarity—freshly fallen snow and wintergreen.
An overwhelming urge to curl up in a nest with all three of them washes over me. To be surrounded by their scents, their bodies, their protection. To be claimed and cherished and kept.
I gasp, shaking my head to clear it. The feeling recedes slowly, like a tide pulling back from shore, but doesn’t disappear entirely.
“What the hell was that?” My voice sounds strange to my own ears, higher and softer.
“The water does something to you, enhances whatever parts of your dynamic are there,” Kai explains, watching me carefully. “For alphas and omegas, it strengthens their connection to their instincts.”
I blink at him, still processing the lingering warmth in my veins. “Supposed to?”
He sighs, looking down at the shimmering water.
“I moved here when I was sixteen, after my parents died. I’d already presented as an alpha by then.
” His fingers trail through the water’s surface, creating ripples that distort our reflections.
“Everyone said I should drink from the spring anyway—that it would strengthen my alpha traits. Make me more... alpha-like.”
“And it didn’t work?” I ask gently.
“Oh, it worked. For about twenty minutes, I felt like every alpha stereotype rolled into one—aggressive, dominant, territorial.” His mouth twists. “And I hated it. It didn’t feel like me. It felt like wearing someone else’s skin.”
I remember the bottle of Alphastat in his bathroom. “So you started taking the blockers.”
“It was easier,” he admits. “Easier than trying to measure up to what everyone expected an alpha to be. Easier than explaining that I don’t want to be that kind of alpha.” He gestures vaguely. “The kind that dominates rooms and takes what they want and fights for status.”
“So what kind of alpha do you want to be?” I ask.
He looks up at me, his expression surprisingly vulnerable in the moonlight. “The kind that takes care of people. That makes them feel safe and happy. That’s what feels right to me.”
I study him for a long moment. This beautiful man who makes breakfast for everyone in the house.
Who remembers how I like my coffee. Who defuses tensions between Noah and Grayson with well-timed jokes.
Who made a heat suite in his home just in case an omega that he hadn’t even met yet ever needed it.
“Sounds pretty much exactly like a good alpha to me,” I say firmly.
He snorts. “Not according to anyone around here.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Kai’s head snaps up, his eyes widening at my tone. “Sorry?”
“Complete and utter bullshit,” I continue, surprising myself with my vehemence. “Who decided there’s only one way to be an alpha? One acceptable expression of alpha traits?”
“Society? Biology?” He shrugs, but I can see I’ve caught his attention. “Every alpha asshole who ever bullied me on the playground. I don’t know.”
“The same society that says omegas are too emotional and unstable to be doctors?” I challenge. “The same biology that supposedly makes us incapable of rational thought during heat?”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Point taken.”
“You’re an incredible alpha, Kai,” I say, softer now. “You protect your pack in your own way. You make sure everyone is fed and comfortable. You notice when someone’s upset and you fix it. That’s not less alpha—it’s just a different kind of strength.”
He stares at me for a long moment, something shifting in his expression. “You really believe that?”
“I do.” I reach out and take his uninjured hand. “And I think you should stop taking those blockers.”
“I—“
“Unless they make you feel better about yourself,” I add quickly. “If they help you feel more comfortable in your own skin, that’s different. But if you’re taking them because you think you need to be less of what you are to be accepted... then no. You don’t.”
“Holly…”
“I know that sounds super hypocritical coming from me, considering the circumstances. But I’ve never hated the thought of being an omega.
If anything, I didn’t even know what it felt like to be an omega until I came here.
” I realize I’m working out a fundamental truth about myself at the same time that I say the words.
Hiding my dynamic has been a fundamental part of my life for so long that I never stopped to think about what I was really sacrificing for my career goals.
“If it wouldn’t cost me my job and break my mother’s heart, then I would stop taking suppressants right now.
We might have started hiding parts of ourselves because that was the best way to survive, but that doesn’t mean we have to do it forever. ”
Kai’s fingers tighten around mine. The moonlight catches in his hair, turning the sun-bleached strands to silver. For once, he seems at a loss for words.
“Show me the rest,” I say, standing and tugging him up with me. “You said this feeds the other springs? Show me where people swim.”
He blinks, then nods, some of his usual energy returning. “This way. It’s not far.”
We follow another path that winds between massive boulders.
The air grows warmer, more humid, and I catch the distinctive sulfur scent of hot springs.
The path opens up to reveal a larger pool, maybe thirty feet across, steaming gently in the cool night air.
Unlike the source pool, this one is surrounded by smooth rock shelves that form natural seating areas.
Heat from the pool rises into the air, warming it enough that it’s almost possible to pretend it isn’t the dead of winter.
“This is one of the lesser-known springs,” Kai explains. “Not as fancy as the public bathhouse, but more... intimate.”
The word hangs between us, charged with possibility.
“Does anyone else come here?” I ask, already shrugging out of my jacket.