Chapter 33 Jessica
JESSICA
Iwake on fire.
Not metaphorical fire. Not cute, poetic fire. Actual, literal, my-skin-is-melting-off-my-bones fire that makes me kick off every blanket in my nest and gasp for air that feels like breathing through a furnace.
The guest room is dark. Predawn grey seeps through the curtains, painting shadows across the sage green walls. The house is silent except for the creak of old bones settling and the thunderous roar of my own pulse in my ears.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
The plaster has a crack shaped like Florida that I've been meaning to mention to Carlos.
It's right above my head. I've memorized every inch of it over the past three weeks of lying in this bed, trying to fall asleep, trying not to think about four men sleeping in rooms down the hall.
Right now, I can't think about anything except how much I need them.
The realization slams into me with the force of a freight train.
Heat. This is heat. Real heat, not the mild symptoms I've been experiencing for the past week. Not the nesting instincts or the heightened senses or the way my body temperature has been running two degrees high since the press conference.
This is the main event. The nuclear option. The biological imperative that makes omegas lose their minds and alphas lose their control.
I've read about this. Researched it obsessively since Pedro told me it was coming. Nothing prepared me for the reality.
My skin feels too tight. Every nerve ending is screaming. The cotton of my sleep shirt, which was perfectly comfortable eight hours ago, now feels like sandpaper against my nipples. The sheets beneath me are damp with sweat, and I'm simultaneously freezing and burning alive.
God, the emptiness.
There's a hollow ache between my legs that goes deeper than anything physical. It's in my bones. My blood. Every cell in my body is crying out for word which loops through my brain like a broken record. I don't even know what I need. Only that I'll die without it.
A whimper escapes my throat. Pathetic and desperate and completely involuntary.
The door flies open.
Sergio stands in the doorway, backlit by the hall light, wearing nothing but grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips.
His chest is bare, broad and muscled, a light dusting of dark hair trailing down his stomach and disappearing beneath the waistband.
His grey eyes are alert despite the hour, and as he takes in the sight of me sprawled across my ruined nest, his nostrils flare.
"It started." His voice is rough. Lower than usual.
"I noticed." The words come out as a croak. "Felt like I should mention the whole being-on-fire thing."
He crosses to the bed in three strides. His hand presses against my forehead, and I nearly sob at the contact. His skin is cool compared to mine. Perfect. I want to wrap myself around him and never let go.
"You're burning up." He pulls his hand back, and I chase the contact, rising up on my elbows to follow.
"Please." The word falls out before I can stop it. “Don't stop touching me."
Something dark flickers in his eyes.
"The others are coming." He sits on the edge of the bed, and I immediately crawl toward him, drawn by his scent, his warmth, the magnetic pull that I've been fighting for weeks. "We talked about this. We have a plan."
"I don't care about plans." I press my face against his bare shoulder and inhale. Cedar and smoke fill my lungs, and the ache in my core intensifies to something almost unbearable. "I care about you touching me right now immediately."
"Jessica." His hand cups the back of my head, holding me against him. "Look at me."
I pull back. It takes physical effort. Every instinct screams at me to burrow closer, to climb into his lap, to beg for things I don't have names for.
His grey eyes are steady. Serious. The eyes of a man who's spent his whole life maintaining control and isn't about to lose it now.
"We've got you." His thumb strokes along my jaw. "Whatever you need."
"Yes." The word explodes out of me. "Yes, obviously yes, I've been saying yes for weeks, please, Sergio, I need..."
"Need what?"
"I don't know." Tears leak from the corners of my eyes. "It's like my body is speaking a language I don't understand."
Footsteps in the hallway. Three sets, approaching fast.
Carlos appears first, hair sleep-mussed, wearing boxers and an inside-out t-shirt. Nacho follows, already in jeans like he was never asleep at all, bare chest gleaming in the low light. Pedro brings up the rear, a small medical bag in his hand because of course he brought supplies.
They pile into the room, filling it with heat and testosterone and four distinct scents that crash over me like a wave.
The combination is overwhelming. Intoxicating. I breathe it in and feel something shift in my core, a lock clicking open, a door swinging wide.
"Oh." I sag against Sergio's chest. "Oh, that's... that's better."
"Pack scent." Pedro sets his bag on the nightstand and moves to sit on my other side. "Your omega recognizes us. It's trying to calm you down."
"It's not working very well." I press my thighs together, trying to ease the ache. "I still feel like I'm going to explode."
"You're not going to explode." Carlos drops onto the foot of the bed, and his hand wraps around my ankle. "Implode, maybe. Spontaneously combust, possibly. But exploding is off the table."
"Not helping." Nacho moves to stand beside the bed, arms crossed, watching me with those dark, intense eyes. "She needs physical contact. More of it."
"Then get over here." My voice comes out sharper than I intended. "All of you. Stop standing around like you're waiting for an invitation. I'm inviting you. Consider yourselves invited. Invitations have been issued and accepted, now please, somebody touch me before I lose my mind."
They move.
Carlos stretches out along my left side, his body warm and solid against mine. His hand slides under my shirt to rest on my stomach, and I arch into the contact with a sound that's half moan, half sob.
Pedro takes my right, more clinical at first, checking my pulse, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead. But when I turn my face into his palm, he softens. His thumb traces along my cheekbone.
Nacho sits at the head of the bed, lifting me until my back rests against his chest. His arms wrap around me from behind, solid and grounding. His breath is warm against my ear.
Sergio kneels at the foot of the bed, watching. Waiting.
"Better?" Carlos's voice is husky.
"Getting there." I'm surrounded by them now. Cocooned. The desperate edge of the heat has dulled slightly. But not quite the feral madness of moments ago. "I think my omega likes the pack cuddle approach."
"Your omega has good instincts." Pedro's hand slides into my hair, scratching lightly against my scalp. "Heat is easier with physical contact. Your body is craving connection."
"My body is craving a lot of things." The words slip out, and I feel my face heat even more than it already is. "Sorry. Brain-to-mouth filter seems to be malfunctioning."
"Don't apologize." Sergio's voice cuts through the room. "Not for anything you say tonight. Not for anything you want."
I meet his eyes across the tangle of bodies.
"I want you." The admission feels huge. Terrifying.
"All of you. I've been wanting you for weeks, and I was scared to say it, and now my body is literally forcing the issue, which seems like cheating somehow, but I don't care anymore because I'm pretty sure I'll die if someone doesn't do something about the empty feeling in my. .."
"Jess." Carlos's hand presses firmer against my stomach. "Breathe."
I suck in air. Let it out slowly.
"I want this." I look at each of them in turn. Sergio with his steady control. Carlos with his easy warmth. Pedro with his careful intensity. Nacho with his quiet strength. "Not just because of the heat. Because of you. All of you."
"We know." Nacho's voice rumbles against my back. "We've been waiting for you to be ready."
"I'm ready." I squirm against him, the ache building again. "Can we please stop talking about how ready I am and do something about it?"
Sergio moves.
He crawls up the bed, over my legs, between my thighs. His brothers shift to accommodate him, creating space without breaking contact. Carlos's hand slides to my hip. Pedro's moves to my shoulder. Nacho's arms tighten around my ribcage.
Sergio hovers over me, weight braced on his forearms, face inches from mine.
"Last chance." His grey eyes bore into mine. "After this, everything changes. You'll be ours. Permanently. Pack bond. Mating marks. The whole thing."
"Promise?" The word comes out breathless.
Something cracks in his expression. The iron control he's been maintaining since he walked through the door finally slips, and underneath I see hunger. Raw and desperate and barely leashed.
He lowers his head and kisses me.
The world narrows to the point of contact.
His mouth is firm and demanding, nothing like the gentle kisses we've shared before. He tastes like toothpaste and coffee and want, and I open for him immediately, letting his tongue sweep inside, letting him take whatever he needs.
Hands move over my body. Too many hands to track. Someone pulls my shirt over my head. Someone else tugs at my shorts. The cool air hits my overheated skin, and I gasp against Sergio's mouth.
"Easy." Carlos's voice at my ear. "We've got you."
Sergio pulls back to look at me. I'm bare now, exposed, spread out across my ruined nest while four men drink in the sight.
I should feel self-conscious. Should want to cover myself. Instead, I feel powerful. Wanted. They're looking at me, like I'm the most precious thing they've ever seen...
"Beautiful." Pedro's voice is rough. "You're so beautiful, Jessica."
"Stunning." Nacho's arms tighten around me. "Absolutely stunning."
"I'm gonna need a minute." Carlos's laugh is strained. "Just to commit this image to permanent memory."