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His mouth twitches. “Dealer’s choice.”
I sit up straighter, hugging the blanket to my chest.
“Better,” I say honestly. “Less… feral. Less likely to hump a throw pillow just because someone breathes too close to me.”
Lucian tilts his head, like this is fascinating and possibly medically relevant. “So… heat’s easing?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just hit that weird in-between stage where I’m not actively dying, but also still a biological disaster.”
“That sounds about right.”
He pulls on a shirt like it’s a statement piece - precisely folded sleeves, straight collar. A man who dresses like he’s ready for a negotiation or a hostage situation.
“I’ll be downstairs,” he says, hand on the door. Then - casual,toocasual - he adds: “You want tea?”
I blink. “Tea?”
He nods, and there’s this tiny,horrifyingtwitch of uncertainty on his face - as though he’s bracing for me to say no.
Like offering me Earl Grey is the most vulnerable thing he’s done in years.
It breaks something in me. Or softens it. I can’t tell which.
“...Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”
He nods once - almost grateful - and slips out the door.
And I sit there, blinking in the aftermath. Clutching this bundle of clothes that smells like power and leather and quiet control.
The shirt is soft. Probably washed a hundred times. Definitely stolen the second he leaves it unattended.
I pull it on slowly, still barefoot, still sore in every conceivable way. And yet… better. Whole-er. Almost suspiciously okay.
Which is, frankly, alarming.
Because now I have todealwith things. Like Kai and Theo. Like Ash and the conversation we definitely still haven’t had.
Like the fact that my heat might be fading, but my real-life disasters are still very much active.
There’s Lexi to contact. My fake Beta ID that's probably flagged. And my unpaid rent.
I flop backward on the bed, hair sticking up in all directions, and sigh dramatically at the ceiling.
“Okay, Rhea. Let’s pretend you’re a functioning adult now. Let’s pretend you’re not half-wrecked, emotionally entangled with four alphas, and currently hiding from both the Omega Management Board and your landlord.”
I lie there in Lucian’s shirt, smelling like knot and power and terrible decisions, and add:
“Step one: survive tea.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Rhea
The scent of eggs and something buttery hits me like a punch to the soul.
It's not just food, it'sbreakfast. Comfort. Sanity. Possibly salvation.
Lucian’s shirt hangs down to my thighs, and his sweatpants are hanging on for dear life. I look like someone raided their ex’s closet in a teen drama and then wandered into a cooking show, but I don’t care.
