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“I’m—” I hesitate, biting my lip. “I’m really tired.”

The words don’t feel right. I don’t feel tired, not really, but I need some space. I need to get away from this...from them.

“I think I need to sleep,” I force myself to say, my voice strained. “I think...I need some space. Just for tonight.”

Dane shifts, his brow furrowing. “Evie?—”

I cut him off, my voice firm now, even though everything inside me is screaming not to do it. “Please,” I say, my eyes flicking to both of them. “Just...give me a little space. Alone. Tonight. Please. I’ll call for you if I need you.”

It’s hard to ask. So hard. My chest feels like it’s closing in, like I’m suffocating under the weight of all of this –them, the new storm outside, the storm inside me, all of it mixing together.

There’s a long pause, and for a moment, I think they won’t agree. But then, finally, Blaise sighs. He sets his guitar aside and looks at me, his expression softening.

“All right,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost tender. “We’ll sleep in the lounge. We’ll give you some space, honeybee.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, too quietly, almost too relieved to breathe.

Dane leans in, brushing a soft kiss against my forehead, his lips lingering just long enough for me to feel it. “We’ll be here if you need us,” he says, his voice thick with something that I don’t quite understand. It makes my heart race, and I can’t hold back the shiver that runs down my spine.

“I know,” I murmur, my voice barely a whisper.

Then, as if the moment is almost too much to bear, they’re both standing up and pulling me to my feet too. Blaise kisses my cheek lightly, a quick, gentle touch. “Night, Evie.”

“Goodnight,” Dane adds, his voice a little hoarser. It’s like he’s holding something back, something I can’t quite place.

Wordlessly, Xar comes over and hugs me, before taking me by the hand and leading me to my nest. He helps me get settled, kisses my forehead and promises he’ll be right outside if I need him.

And then he’s gone and I’m alone. But the stillness doesn’t bring the relief I expected. Instead, it amplifies everything – the pulsing heat inside me, the ache that doesn’t seem to go away, and the pull I feel toward them even when they’re not here.

I curl into the blankets, pulling them tightly around me, as if it will help. I bury my face into the pillow, wishing for sleep to come, but knowing that it’s going to be a long night.

The storm outside rages on, and inside, the storm in me is just beginning.

DANE

Ican sense it – her fear – even though she’s trying so hard to hide it. I know her better than she thinks. That wall she’s putting up is hard to ignore. I can practically feel the distance she’s trying to create between us. Every time her eyes flicker to me, every time her hands fidget with something, I know she’s battling something inside her.

And the worst part is – she doesn’t even know why she’s doing it.

But I do.

Her heat’s finally here. Or at least, it will be in a couple of hours. By morning at the latest.

I wanted to tell her. Hell, I tried. But how do you explain to someone who’s been so sheltered, so untouched by the world welive in, that her body is about to betray her? That everything she thought she knew about herself is about to shift? That instincts she’s never had to navigate before are going to slam into her like a freight train?

And fuck, Iknewshe was a virgin until the other day. Completely untouched in every way, and I’d bet my last breath she’s never taken aknotbefore. Which is why we should have taken more time to get her ready. To truly explain what she was facing.

I wanted to stay with her tonight. I wanted to curl up beside her in the nest, keep her grounded when the confusion started to creep in. But she asked for space, and I didn’t want to frighten her more than she already is. She’s fragile in a way I can’t explain, and every instinct in me is screaming to be near her, to protect her. To guide her through what’s coming.

But how do I protect her from her own instincts?

I try to distract myself, to think of anything else. But my mind keeps circling back to her – her scent changing in subtle waves, particularly the way the honeysuckle is increasing, almost eclipsing the floral and fresh scents that normally balance it so well. And the way her body is reacting without her even realising it. The way she trembled when I kissed her forehead. The flicker of panic in her eyes when our fingers brushed. She doesn’t understand what her body is telling her and she’s fighting it with everything she’s got.

It makes my chest ache. I want to fix it. I want to help her.

I remember another omega. Years ago. One I didn’t get to in time. Someone I failed. I couldn’t protect my brother the way he needed when his designation revealed. I saw the signs too late and so he slipped through my fingers, and it still haunts me. That helplessness. That guilt.

I won’t let it happen again.