Chapter 9 Rowan
Rowan
My body is heavy with warmth and the lingering scent of alphas surrounding me.
The nest feels endless, soft and perfect beneath me.
The first touch is feather-light, barely there—lips pressed to my ankle like a whispered promise.
I try to focus, to see which of them it is, but everything is soft-edged and hazy.
"So beautiful," a voice murmurs against my skin, and I think it might be Theo but I can't be sure. The voice seems to echo, to multiply, becoming all of them at once. "So perfect."
The kisses trail higher, patient and reverent, mapping the sensitive skin of my calf with deliberate attention. Each press of lips sends small sparks of sensation up my leg, making me arch slightly in the nest of pillows and blankets.
A second mouth joins the first, or maybe it's the same mouth in a different place. This one finds the spot behind my knee that makes me gasp, that secret place that always makes me melt. Fingers ghost along my skin, tracing patterns I can feel but can't quite see.
"Please," I whisper, though I'm not sure what I'm asking for. More, maybe.
"We've got you," comes the reply, and now I'm certain it's all three voices speaking in unison, a harmony of promise and desire. "We'll always take care of you."
The kisses continue their slow journey upward, along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
There are definitely multiple mouths now—I can feel the different textures, the varying pressures.
One gentle and careful, one more demanding, one that finds the spots that make me tremble and focuses there with single-minded intensity.
My body responds, heat building low in my belly, my breathing becoming shallow and quick. I can feel their scents wrapping around me creating a cocoon of safety and desire.
"Ours," one of them murmurs against my thigh, the word vibrating through my skin. "Always ours."
"Always," I agree breathlessly, my hands fisting in the soft fabric beneath me.
The kisses reach the crease where my leg meets my hip, so close to where I need them but not quite there yet. They take their time, these alphas, mapping every inch of skin with reverent attention, building anticipation until I'm trembling with need.
"So responsive," another voice observes, and I feel a breath ghost over heated skin. "Look how she reacts to just our mouths."
I want to protest that it's not just their mouths—it's them, it's the way they make me feel cherished and desired and completely claimed. But the words get lost in a gasp as lips find that perfect spot high on my inner thigh that makes my back arch off the nest.
"There," I manage, my voice barely a whisper. "Right there."
"Here?" A tongue traces the spot, slow and deliberate, and the sensation sends electricity straight through me.
"Yes," I breathe, my body moving restlessly beneath their attention.
They lavish attention on that sensitive skin, taking turns or working together—in dreams, it doesn't matter which. All that matters is the building heat, the way my body responds to their worship, the whispered words of praise and possession that make my heart race as much as my p-
I wake up from the dream gasping. My sheets are tangled around my legs, damp with sweat. My skin feels too tight, too hot, like I'm burning from the inside out. And there's a low, insistent ache deep in my belly that makes me press my thighs together in a futile attempt for relief.
The digital clock on my nightstand reads 3:17 AM. The same time I saw the night my life imploded. Apparently, the universe has kept its twisted sense of humor.
I stumble to the hallway bathroom, careful not to wake anyone. The cool tile feels heavenly against my bare feet as I splash water on my face. In the mirror, my reflection looks feverish—flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, curls sticking to my neck with sweat.
This is the third night in a row. Ever since that weird moment with Wells in the car on the way to the flower wholesaler, my body has been acting like it's possessed.
Hot flashes. Sensitivity to smells. And dreams—vivid, embarrassing dreams that leave me aching, confused, and dripping wet when I wake.
Back in my room, I grab my phone, pulling up the search bar with trembling fingers.
latent adult sudden hot flashes increased arousal
The results make my stomach clench. "Heat spike episodes in latent adults." "Pre-presentation symptoms in late bloomers." "Hormone fluctuations preceding omega presentation."
No. No, no, no.
I try again.
stress symptoms similar to heat
Better. "Stress-induced thermoregulation issues." "Anxiety and body temperature fluctuations." "How stress can mimic secondary gender symptoms."
That's it. It's just stress. I'm living with three strangers, starting a new job, abandoning my entire support system. Of course my body is freaking out. It has nothing to do with the fact that I'm living with three unmated alphas whose scents sometimes make me want to bury my face in their necks.
My gaze can't help but flash to my overflowing hamper where I know that a few…ehem.. clothing items that are not mine are buried.
Nope. Not thinking about that.
I close the search app and open my meditation timer instead. Ten minutes of focused breathing. I can handle this. I've been handling life for twenty-eight years. Just because my life has changed doesn't mean my biology has to follow suit.
When morning comes, I've barely slept, but I've fortified my resolve. Extra blockers applied. Loose, comfortable clothes that won't make me overheat. Hair up off my neck. I can do this.
"Morning," Theo says cheerfully as I enter the kitchen. He's at the stove, flipping pancakes with surprising dexterity. "Hungry?"
I nod, careful to keep extra distance between us as I reach for the coffee. "Thanks."
Jasper grunts from his position at the table, eyes fixed on his plate. He hasn't looked directly at me in days. Fine by me.
Wells enters a moment later, already dressed for work in crisp chinos and a button-down, his tablet tucked under his arm. His eyes flick to me, then away. "Coffee?"
"Fresh pot," Theo says, sliding a stack of pancakes onto a plate. "Rowan, these are for you. I added blueberries."
The pancakes look delicious, but my stomach churns with anxiety. "Thanks," I say again, taking the plate and retreating to the far end of the table, away from Jasper.
"Gerald ate well this morning," Theo continues, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. "I think that eye infection is clearing up."
I latch onto the subject gratefully. "I noticed that too. And he's getting more active. He actually batted at my finger yesterday."
"Menace in training," Jasper mutters, the first words he's spoken all morning.
Theo rolls his eyes. "Says the man who lets him sleep on his chest."
Jasper's head snaps up, eyes narrowing at me. "You told them?"
I shrug, focusing on cutting my pancakes into perfectly even squares.
"They're our roommates. No secrets in pack—I mean, in house-sharing situations."
Jasper's jaw tightens at my slip. Theo looks between us, a slight crease between his brows.
Wells says nothing, but I feel his attention like a physical weight.
"I need to get to work," I announce, abandoning my half-eaten breakfast. "Crystal's training me on wedding consultations today."
"I'll walk you out," Theo offers. "I'm heading to the clinic anyway."
Before I can make an excuse, he's already rinsing his plate and grabbing his keys. I swallow my unease and follow him, careful to maintain a bubble of personal space.
Outside, the morning air is crisp and cool, a welcome relief after my overheated night. Theo walks beside me down the porch steps, his usual easy demeanor making it hard to keep my distance without seeming rude.
"Everything okay?" he asks as we reach his car. "You seem a little... off today."
"Fine," I say quickly. "Just tired. Gerald had me up a few times."
Theo studies me, his expression concerned.
"You know, if something's bothering you, you can talk to me. Or any of us. Despite Jasper's grumpy exterior and Wells's robot impression, they're both decent listeners."
I force a smile. "Thanks, but really, I'm good. Just adjusting to everything."
He hesitates, then steps closer. "Rowan, about your scent—"
I take an instinctive step back. "What about it?"
"It's... changing," he says carefully. "I notice these things, I-” he breaks off his sentence. His hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, as his face flushes with color.
“I’ve always had a sensitive nose.I can usually pick up on scent markers, physiological changes, more than most people.It's okay if you're experiencing shifts in your presentation status. It's natural."
Panic bubbles up in my chest. "I'm not," I insist. "It's just stress, and maybe different soap, and—"
"Rowan," he interrupts gently, reaching for my arm.
I flinch away before he can touch me, terrified of how my body might react.
But the movement brings me against the side of his car, and suddenly he's closer than I intended, his alpha scent wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
My body betrays me with an immediate response—a rush of warmth, a loosening in my muscles, an impulse to lean into him that's so strong I have to dig my nails into my palms to resist.
"I should go," I say, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears. "I'll be late."
A flash of something—hurt? confusion?—crosses his face, but he steps back, giving me space. "Sure. Have a good day."
I practically run to my car, my heart hammering. That was close. Too close. I need to be more careful.
At the flower shop, Crystal takes one look at me and raises an eyebrow.
"You look like you're running from something."
"Just super eager to learn about wedding consultations," I lie, hanging up my jacket and reaching for my apron.
She doesn't push for answers, just nods toward the back room. "Coffee first. You look like you need it."