Chapter 2 #3
A response had come in while I was at the front desk. A cramp had buried the sound of the notification; I hadn't even felt it land.
I drank the rest of the first water bottle and set it on the nightstand, then sat cross-legged on the bed with the phone screen dimmed to barely-there and opened the response.
The profile was called MinerForGold. Beta, 29.
The photo showed a man with short blond hair and a clean, angular face, caught mid-turn as if someone had said his name.
His blue-gray eyes were pale and arresting even in a thumbnail.
His mouth was relaxed, his attention fixed just past the camera, as if he were still listening.
I scrolled. The bio was short, which I appreciated.
Beta, 29. Part of a pack with two alphas. All experienced with heat response. Heat Seekers verified. Clean paperwork, recent panels, references available.
Below the bio, a thumbnail showed the pack, but I didn't go digging. I didn't want faces. I didn't need anything but a knot.
He'd answered my plea in eight minutes. Maybe he was staying at another hotel or a residence, maybe working at one of the downtown bars. It didn't matter. What mattered was close, experienced, pack-based, clean, and close.
Another cramp hit while I was reading, six minutes after the last and harder, a deep clenching pain that made me curl forward over the phone.
My skin had gone from hot to burning, and the robe was suddenly too much fabric, too much weight, the silk-blend clinging to my shoulders where I'd started to sweat.
I shoved it off one arm, then the other, and sat in the dark in just my skin with the phone clutched in both hands while the pain crested and fell.
When it passed, I accepted the request and sent the message. I typed:
Nit4You: Cobalt Meridian Hotel, Duchess Suite, 29th floor
and hit send before I could think about it. Then I added:
Nit4You: Heat came early. Suppressant failure. I need someone here as soon as you can manage.
The message sent. The app confirmed.
I set the phone on the nightstand and reached for the second water bottle.
The suite was beautiful in the dark. As my eyes adjusted, I picked out the living area through the open doorway and the curve of a sectional sofa. The bedroom was generous, the bed enormous, the linens white, crisp, cool against my overheated skin.
I picked up the phone, opened the profile again, and looked at Miner's photo.
Short blond hair, a clean jaw, blue-gray eyes that held the camera without challenging it.
My heat-addled brain decided he would ask before he touched.
It had no evidence and no interest in objections.
He looked good enough that I almost let my hand find its way between my overheated thighs.
I closed the photo and opened the messages. No response yet. Three minutes since I'd sent mine.
Full heat had arrived. The cramps sharpened, slick started between my thighs, and the cotton sheets dragged like sandpaper across my legs. Honeysuckle and herbs filled the suite, thick and sweet. My glands pulsed at my throat and wrists, broadcasting omega, available, now to anyone in range.
I drained the second water bottle and got up to find a third.
The minibar was stocked with water, juice, little bottles of champagne I wouldn't touch. I took two more waters, a coconut water, and a protein bar I didn't want but knew I'd need later. Stockpiling. Another thing I could control.
Back in the bedroom, I arranged the supplies on the nightstand like a centerpiece: water, coconut water, protein bar, phone, charger.
The phone pinged.
I grabbed it, thumbed it open, and read the message from the beta, MinerForGold.
MinerForGold: We're coming. Drink some water and we'll be there in minutes.
I set the phone down. My hands were shaking again, a fine tremor from adrenaline, heat, and the suppressant crash.
Minutes. I could do a few. I'd survived six hours at a wedding, a cold shower, a front-desk negotiation, and an emergency app callout while my body staged a rebellion. A few more minutes were nothing.
I whined.
I lay back against the pillows, propped up enough to breathe, and let my legs fall open because keeping them closed was too much effort.
The robe was long gone. The sheets were already damp.
And somewhere in the city, three miles away or less, a beta named Miner and two alphas I hadn't let myself look at were getting into a car and heading toward me.
I had a brief moment of clarity between the cramps, then. I was in a suite. A protected suite. They had no way of getting to me without a keycard.
I unlocked my phone to call the front desk when I heard a knock at the door.
My door?
I slipped into the robe again, reluctantly, since no one wants to greet someone for the first time with their tits in the breeze.
I flipped the light on right above the door and peeked through the peephole.
There were three men, one with that distinct jawline, and I whimpered in relief as I opened the door.