Chapter 14
They call it their Omega Suite:a comfortable space for Omegas to safely wait out their heats either with or without Alpha Aid.That’s what the brochure said, anyway, when I had to pick a room I could afford without Omega insurance.
It reeks of antiseptic and fake comfort. The walls are pale, the sheets scratchy. The name does nothing to change that.
Put a pig in a doctor’s coat; it’s still a pig.
I keep thinking about the nest at their house. The soft gray walls, thick blankets, and rainbow film casting color across the floor. Their scent soaked into every corner. That room felt safe.
This one doesn’t.
The hospital won’t let me leave while I’m still in active heat, per the Omega health laws. There’s too big a risk I might makeall Alphas around go into a rut, even though I know the guys wouldn’t let me near anyone and would keep me protected.
I’m scared of what the heat will feel like, but they’ll be here to help. There won’t be suppressants this time. No medically induced coma to block it out. I’m finally going to face the thing I’ve been running from for half my life.
My body’s already feeling it. The heat started this morning and hasn’t let up. There’s a low pull deep in my gut that won’t ease, not with shifting or pressing my thighs together. It’s a deep need I haven’t felt since that first precocious heat.
The endocrinologist this morning said withdrawal might keep me worked up for weeks, but that it would differ from a normal heat cycle in that there will be lulls where I’ll feel fine. It’s the price I have to pay after ten years spent shutting everything down.
The worst news of this morning? There’s also a chance this protocol to get me back to baseline won’t do shit, and I’ll be stuck like this, always in a state of half-horniness. He wouldn’t confirm or deny it. But I saw it in the way he wouldn’t look at me when I asked if I could be stuck in a permanent heat after reading some people talk about it happening to them online.
The new low-dose suppressants I need to take are supposed to help regulate the worst of it. The nurse didn’t look convinced when she handed me the first pack this morning. She warned me not to expect miracles and said the doctors lie about the potency because they’re getting paid to push them.
I can’t say I’m surprised these won’t do much for me. The suppressants I used before were stronger, and I abused them, not thinking about what they were doing to my body or that I could take too much.
So, now, I wait for them to let the guys in.
The hospital gown sticks to my skin as I sit cross-legged on the too-firm bed. I try not to fidget, but it’s hard. A soft mechanical beep sounds from the door as the lock disengages.
I don’t move.
Clove hits first, followed by the others: pine, rain, smoke, and mint. Instinct claws up my throat.
My alphas are here.
They shuffle in and the door closes with another beep, and it’s locked again. It won’t unlock until the pheromone sensors confirm my heat has passed its peak. There’s a compartment where our food will be delivered, and a bathroom with a shower and scrub-like outfits we can wear. They’ll wash our clothes and return them when I’m discharged. It feels a bit like prison, but they have to follow the laws, no matter how asinine they are.
They don’t move right away. The four of them stand just inside the door. Logan hangs back near the wall, arms relaxed, but he’s focused on me. Jace shifts from foot to foot and tugs at his unruly curls. Ford’s jaw flexes, tension carved into every line of his face. Wes, his arm out of the sling, watches me as if he’s afraid I might disappear.
The silence stretches. None of us knows how to start. I grip the blanket tighter. I want to say something, to invite them in, but the words won’t come. I’m not used to feeling shy, not around them. It’d be easier if the heat would take control. Then I wouldn’t be stuck in my head; I’d be in their laps, begging for their cocks without a second thought.
Wes moves first. He crosses the room and sinks onto the edge of the bed. His hand brushes mine, then wraps around, linking our fingers. I breathe him in. Clove, layered with the fresh dew of rain. The others take a step closer, filling the space with the combination of them all. The only way I can describe it is Alpha: musky, rich, and thick enough to make my head hazy.
That last thread of restraint inside me snaps. My clit throbs to life. Wes’s nostrils flare.
His hand slips free from mine. He brings it to my cheek, his thumb stroking along my skin as his gaze meets mine. “Can I kiss you?”
I nod, and that’s all it takes. He shifts forward, and our mouths connect in a quiet kiss. I lift my hand to his jaw, brushing against the scruff that always makes him look a little more serious than he is.
His tongue teases the edge of my mouth, and I open for him. Static crackles between us as I rise to my knees, wanting more. His fingers find my hip and flex through the gown.
I kiss him back harder than I mean to. He groans. Our mouths part, then reconnect, deeper this time. My fingers trace the edge of his jaw, drawn to the rough scratch of his stubble.
His hand leaves my cheek and slides to my nape, holding me there.
When I pull away to breathe, he doesn’t let me go far. His mouth drops to my throat, lips parted, tongue trailing across the spot just below my jaw. My head tilts back, and a low moan slips from my lips.
He growls against my skin; the vibration sinks straight into my chest and heads south to my clit. “You smell so turned on I’m surprised the others aren’t over here.”
