Page 79 of His Drama Queen

"I didn't know it could be like this." My words are slurring with sleep. "Heat, I mean. That it could feel safe instead of scary."

"It should always feel safe." Oakley's voice is fierce. "We're going to make sure it does."

Another wave builds but I barely notice. Too comfortable. Too warm. Too surrounded by pack and softness and care.

"Stay," I murmur. "When I sleep. Don't leave."

"We won't," they promise together.

And wrapped in more luxury than I've ever experienced, surrounded by three alphas who are trying so damn hard, I finally let go.

Let the heat have me.

Let them take care of me.

Let myself believe that maybe this could work after all.

twenty

Dorian

She'dbeenasleepformaybe an hour when the whimper started.

The sound bypassed every civilized thought, went straight to my hindbrain. My body responded before my mind caught up—cock going rock hard, sandalwood flooding the nest thick enough to choke on. The rut that had been simmering since we built this nest roared back to life.

Fuck. Not now. Need to stay in control.

Her scent hit me next. Jasmine so thick and sweet it obliterated everything else. On my tongue, coating my lungs. My hands were shaking with the effort not to grab her, not to pin her down and rut into her until neither of us could think.

She tensed against me. Muscle and bone going rigid. Burning up. The fever radiated through her clothes. Slick starting to coat her thighs—the scent of it making my mouth water.

Oakley's pupils blew wide from his position by her feet. His cock straining against his jeans. Corvus had gone perfectly still, jaw clenched, hands fisted.

All of us barely holding on.

We'd done this before—claimed her at the pack house during her first heat. Dubcon at best, forced claiming when she was too heat-addled to really fight us. But we'd learned. Learned what her body needed. Learned how to work together. Learned that this second heat would be worse because the bonds were already there, screaming to be reinforced.

Doesn't make it easier. Makes it fucking harder because now I know exactly how good she feels.

"Dorian."

My name. Breathy and desperate. Eyes still closed but hips grinding against my thigh.

The slick. Jesus Christ, the slick. Thick and sweet, making my mouth water. Making my cock leak. Making every Alpha instinct I have screammine, claim, breed, KNOT.

"Shh." I press my lips to her temple, fighting to keep my voice steady. "We've got you."

Her eyes flutter open. Fever-bright green, pupils blown wide with heat. For a second—just a second—I see awareness there. Recognition. Choice.

Then the heat crashes back over her and she arches with a broken sound.

"Please." Her hands fist in my shirt. "I can't—it hurts—"

"I know, baby." The endearment slips out. "We're going to help. But you need to tell us yes. Need to hear you say it."

Even now. Even when she's burning. She deserves the choice.

"Yes." Gasped. Desperate. "Please, yes, I need—"