12. Elowen
ELOWEN
The health check is non-invasive. Just some questions and the kind of regular checks you’d get in the hospital. Blood pressure, temperature, blood sugar levels.
By mid-afternoon, the heat has intensified.
I've gathered what I need: my tea blend, a change of clothes, the small jar of honey from my windowsill. The walk to the medical wing feels longer than it is, my body hyper-aware of movement, temperature, scent.
The suite is exactly as Ms. Hartley described.
Private. Calm. A room with soft lighting, a bed with clean white sheets, blackout curtains, a small bathroom. A mini fridge stocked with water and plain crackers. A basket of clean towels. Temperature control on the wall.
The door has a lock on the inside.
I set my bag on the chair and turn the lock.
Click.
The sound settles something in me.
Mine. My space. My choice.
I change into a comfortable cotton shirt, loose sleep shorts. I fill a glass with cold water and drink it standing by the window, looking out at the small courtyard beyond.
The warmth is building now. Waves rather than a steady burn, rising, cresting, falling back. Not painful. Just insistent.
I think of Mira's words: Your body knows what to do. You don't have to help it.
I don't have to fight this. I just have to let it be.
I press a cool cloth to my forehead and lie down on the bed, pillow tucked under my head. The sheets are soft, clean smelling. Safe.
The first real wave hits an hour later.
It starts low, a deep ache that spreads through my abdomen, down my thighs. My skin flushes hot. I curl on my side, breathing through it, counting.
One. Two. Three.
It crests, holds, then slowly recedes.
I exhale.
Okay. I can do this.
The waves come closer together as evening falls. Each one stronger, longer. I lose track of time, minutes blurring into each other. I drink water when I remember. Press my palms to the cool wall when the heat gets too intense. Pace when I can't lie still.
My scent intensifies.
I can smell it, honey and green things, warmed and thickened. It saturates the room, clings to my skin. I know it's drifting under the door, into the hallway beyond.
I know they can smell it.
And somewhere in the haze, I hear muffled voices.
Calder's low rumble, steady and controlled. "She's okay. We’ll know if she isn’t."
Tyler’s warmer tone. "We stay until she says otherwise."
Julian's precise murmur. "Agreed."
Something in my chest loosens.
They're not trying to get in. They're keeping others out.
This is what care looks like.
The knock comes during a lull between waves. Soft. Respectful.
"Elowen?" Lila's voice muffled through the door. "It's me. Can I come in for a minute?"
I rise slowly, legs shaky, and unlock the door.
Lila slips inside quickly, closing it behind her. She's carrying a pitcher of ice water and fresh towels, her expression warm but not pitying.
"Hey," she says gently. She doesn't crowd. Just sets the pitcher on the table and perches on the edge of the chair. "How are you doing?"
"Surviving," I manage.
"Good." She pours water into my glass, hands it to me. "Drink. You're probably dehydrated."
I do. The cold feels like mercy.
She watches me for a moment, and her expression softens. "You’re brave, Elowen. I panicked when it was my first time, begged my mom to sedate me until it was all over."
"I thought about it," I admit with a smile.
She leans forward slightly. "You're doing great, Elowen. Really."
I don't feel great. I feel like my body is trying to turn itself inside out.
"The alphas are outside," Lila says. "They've been coordinating with Ms. Hartley, making sure no one else comes near the wing. Very... protective."
Heat rises in my cheeks, not the biological kind.
"They were pacing like nervous cats when I got here. It's actually kind of sweet."
Despite everything, I barely manage to contain a smile. They’re doing this for me.
"Do you want me to tell them anything?" Lila asks. "Or tell them to leave? I can do that. They'll listen."
I shake my head. "Tell them... I'm okay. And thank you."
She nods. "I can do that."
Another wave starts to build. I feel it, low and insistent, pulling at my focus.
Lila notices immediately. She crouches beside the bed. “I can stay if you want.”
"Lila—" The cramp folds me in two, and I focus on breathing through it. "Thank you," I say when it ebbs a little. "For... understanding."
Her smile is warm. "We look out for each other. That's what we do." She hesitates, then adds, "When this is over, we're getting tea and you're telling me how you managed to make three of the most sought-after alphas on campus behave like perfect gentlemen."
Then she's gone, closing the door quietly.
I choose not to lock it from the inside this time because I trust them enough.
The peak comes around midnight.
I've lost track of time entirely. The room is dark except for the small lamp by the bed, casting everything in soft amber.
The waves are constant now. No breaks between them. Just rolling heat and ache and need, biological, insistent, overwhelming.
I'm curled on the bed, clutching a pillow, sweat-damp and shaking.
My body knows what it wants, knows exactly what would ease this ache, what would satisfy the pull low in my belly.
But I don't call them.
I don't open the door.
I breathe. I count. I press my face into the cool pillow and remember Mira's voice.
Your body knows what to do. You don't have to help it.
I allow myself to feel it. All of it. The ache, the frustration, the way my body demands something I'm not giving it.
This will pass.
I'm safe.
I chose this.
Through the door, I hear movement. A chair scraping. Low voices.
Calder: "How much longer?"
Julian: "Heat duration averages eighteen to twenty-four hours. She's past the halfway point."
Tyler: "She's incredible."
A pause.
Then Calder again, so quiet I almost miss it: "Yes. She is."
Something warm blooms in my chest, not heat, something else entirely.
The waves begin to lengthen.
Slowly, the intensity decreases. The heat doesn't vanish, but it recedes. The ache dulls. My breathing steadies.
I drink more water. Eat a few crackers. Press a cool cloth to my face and neck.
Exhaustion settles in, bone-deep, but satisfied. Like I've run a marathon and crossed the finish line intact.
I lie back on the bed, clean sheets cool against my skin.
And I sleep.
I wake to morning light.
Soft. Pale. Filtering through the curtains in gentle stripes.
For a moment, I don't remember where I am. Then it comes back: the suite, the heat, the choice.
I sit up slowly.
My body aches, muscles sore, skin tender. But the heat is gone. Faded to nothing, leaving only the ghost of warmth behind.
On the chair beside the bed, my clothes are folded neatly, washed and returned. A pitcher of cold water with lemon sits on the table. Three notes rest on the nightstand, folded and labeled.
I reach for them with shaking hands.
Calder's note:
You were right. You didn't need us inside. But we needed to be close.
– C
Tyler's note:
Lila said you're a badass. She's not wrong. Rest as long as you need.
– T
Julian's note:
Heat duration: 18 hours, 23 minutes. Well within normal parameters. Your autonomy throughout was noted and respected. Archives have post-heat recovery protocols if you want them.
– J
I read them twice.
Then a third time.
Something warm and certain unfolds in my chest.
I rise slowly, legs shaky, and dress in clean clothes. I drink the lemon water standing by the window, looking out at the morning.
When I'm ready, I open the door and step into the hallway. It's empty.
I walk back toward Hawthorn Hall at my own pace, notes folded carefully in my pocket.
The campus is quiet. Early morning. A few students passing, voices low. No one stares. No one asks. I'm just another omega, the day after, even though I’m not the same person I was yesterday.
When I reach my room, I set the notes on my desk beside Mira's honey jar.
Then I sit on the edge of my bed and let myself feel everything. The soreness. The exhaustion. The clarity.
Now I know what's possible.
Now I know what I want.