Page 47 of Knot Gonna Lie (Syzygy Omegaverse #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

LUCA

The medical bay hummed with Seth’s particular brand of organized chaos—sterile surfaces gleaming while he moved between supply crates like a conductor guiding a symphony only he could hear.

Midnight approached, but sleep felt impossible. Not with Elara’s emotions bleeding through our bond like watercolors in rain, soft and spreading, painting me restless.

Seth catalogued heat supplies with the precision of a man preparing for war.

Every vial, every supplement found its place until order emerged from potential disaster.

The heat kit sprawled across the exam table looked less like medical prep and more like an arsenal—hydration formulas lined in neat rows, proteins stacked, supplements I couldn’t name.

“You’re overthinking this.” I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, affection softening the rebuke. He’d been at it for hours, fine-tuning preparations we both knew were already complete.

Seth’s hands never paused in their sorting.

“There’s no such thing as overthinking an omega’s first heat off suppressants.

” Another row of sealed containers clicked into place.

Months ago, I’d thought his insistence on those expensive sterile storage units I’d authorized was paranoia.

Now his foresight felt like prophecy. “The rebound effect alone could extend the cycle to ten days. Possibly longer.”

“Ten days.” The number settled heavy—not dread, but primal anticipation. Ten days of our omega lost to need, only her pack able to ground her—fulfilling her quench. My instincts purred at the thought even as worry threaded through. “The villa’s prepared?”

“Triple-checked the supply list.” Seth pulled up his tablet, revealing spreadsheets that would make Jaxom proud. “Environmental controls optimal. Master suite converted: soft furnishings, adjustable lighting, reinforced sound dampening. Portable med stations for anywhere she nests.”

Smart. Omegas followed instinct, not floor plans. I drifted closer, eyes catching on the modified recovery drinks—dense, enhanced, designed for stamina. My body heated at the sight.

“New supplements?”

Seth’s composure cracked slightly, a flush coloring his golden skin. “Maintaining stamina during an extended heat requires… specific nutritional support.” He cleared his throat, adjusting containers already aligned. “For all pack members.”

All pack members.

The words should have sparked that primal alpha edge in me—the instinct to be the only one, the strongest, the shield she leaned on.

Instead, something else settled in. Peace.

Watching Seth move with such meticulous care, seeing him wear Elara’s bite mark like it was something to be proud of—like a badge of honor… it felt right.

This was pack.

“She chose well with you.” The truth came easily.

His hands stilled. Gray-blue eyes met mine, surprise flickering before warmth took root. “Luca—”

The bond exploded.

Not pain—pleasure. Raw, desperate, claiming pleasure not mine but surging through me like a wave breaking stone. My knees nearly gave from the intensity. Seth gasped, gripping the table’s edge as the same current ripped through his fresher bond.

Elara. Claiming.

I knew instantly. She was marking someone, sinking her teeth deep, making them hers with that primal ownership only omegas possessed. The sensation rolled through our connection—desperation and need and something else. Recognition. Completion.

Jaxom.

The name surfaced in my mind, inevitable as gravity.

Of course it was Jaxom. Quiet, steady Jaxom who noticed everything and asked for nothing. Who’d kissed her in the mess hall like salvation itself, then retreated as though he hadn’t bared his soul in front of the entire clan.

Possessiveness flared—hot, sharp. Mine, my instincts roared. My omega. My mate. My claim. The urge to hunt, to find, to protect nearly overwhelmed rational thought. My fists clenched, nails threatening to pierce skin.

Seth’s hand landed on my shoulder. Grounding, not restraining.

“She needs him.” His voice carried the same struggle, the same war between instinct and understanding. Through our shared connection to Elara, I felt his emotions too—possessiveness, yes, but also acceptance. Trust. “Just like she needed me. Like she needs you.”

The truth settled deep. This wasn’t betrayal. Not replacement. This was building.

Elara wasn’t choosing between us. She was choosing all of us, weaving us together into something new.

A pack—with her as my omega, and two betas as our support.

Her emotions pulsed again, stronger now. Not just claiming—calling. She wanted us there. Needed us whole.

“She’s calling us.” Wonder threaded through Seth’s voice. He pressed his hand to his chest, over his heart, as if he could hold her closer through will alone. “Do you feel it?”

I did. Like tide drawing back before a wave.

Every alpha instinct screamed to answer, to run to her, to provide whatever our omega needed. But beneath it was something larger… Not just alpha responding to omega—pack responding to pack.

“Medical supplies?” I hefted the emergency kit he’d prepared, slinging it over my shoulder.

“Already packed.” Seth snatched a lighter bag. “Hydration, protein, wound care in case the bite was…” He swallowed. “Intense.”

We moved through Paradise’s corridors in step, shadows with purpose.

The ship slept in its night cycle. Only Xavier would be awake—keeping vigil on the bridge, holding himself apart.

His words during the game still burned, calling Elara a disruption.

But I’d seen his truth: fear. Not of her. Of change.

He’d come around—or he wouldn’t. Right now, my omega called.

Her emotions bled stronger as we neared Jaxom’s living quarters—satisfaction, hunger, completion. Not just physical hunger. Emotional. The need to breathe her pack in, to know we were hers as much as she was ours.

“Luca.” Seth’s voice was hushed, reverent. “Her scent…”

I smelled it too. Lavender and vanilla, richer now, tangled with cedar storm—Jaxom’s scent, newly claimed.

And beneath it, faint but rising: pre-heat. Her body recognizing pack, awakening biology long suppressed.

“We go in calm.” The words were for me as much as Seth, wrestling my alpha nature into submission. “She needs support, not dominance.”

Seth nodded, pupils blown wide, professionalism clinging by threads. “She’s still choosing. We respect that.”

We would. Even if every instinct screamed to claim, to take, to overwhelm her with our presence until she forgot anyone existed beyond her pack. That wasn’t what Elara needed. She needed us to be more than our nature, better than simple biology.

Jaxom’s door slid open, soft light blue spilling into the corridor. Through the doorway, I heard them—Jaxom’s broken whispers, Elara’s soothing responses. The sound of fabric shifting, skin finding skin, hearts beating frantic.

I stepped inside, my scent flaring to announce us. The sight waiting on the other side knocked the breath from my lungs.

They lay tangled in Jaxom’s narrow bunk, sheets pooled low.

Elara curved into his chest, her hair spilling across scarred skin like liquid gold.

His left hand cradled her face—angry red bite marks circling his palm where she’d claimed him, fresh and deep—impossible to mistake.

His right arm locked around her waist like he feared she’d vanish.

But it was her expression that stopped me. Radiant. Complete. Like she’d slotted a missing piece of herself into place. Her eyes lifted to mine over Jaxom’s shoulder, green depths shimmering. Not shame. Not apology. Just need.

Raw, honest need for all of us to be here, to be hers, to be pack.

“Alpha.” The word fell from her lips like prayer.

Jaxom tensed, started to shift away, but Elara gripped his shoulder. “No. Stay.”

“Elara—” His voice cracked.

“Mine.” She said it fierce, protective, omega-strong. Then her gaze found Seth, and her expression softened without losing intensity. “All of you. Mine. ”

Her claiming words shot through our bonds like lightning, confirming what we’d felt across the ship. This wasn’t desire or heat-driven choices—or even chance. It was deliberate. Pack-building, the same determination that had carried her out of Syzygy Station.

Seth moved first, instinct and devotion propelling him. “Let me check the bites.” His tone stayed clinical, though his hands trembled as he pulled supplies. “Need to ensure proper clotting.”

Jaxom shifted slightly, exposing his marked hand without releasing her. That vulnerability—naked, claimed, offering himself for care while still holding his omega—hit something deep.

Seth worked with practiced gentleness over her handmark, each touch careful and precise. Elara watched with quiet satisfaction, possessive in the way only an omega could—her first pack member tending to her newest addition.

“It’s deep but clean.” Seth’s approval carried weight as he carefully applied healing salve to her claiming mark. “The hand especially. It’ll scar beautifully. Everyone will know.”

“Good.” Elara’s smile sharpened, predatory. “I want everyone to see he’s claimed.”

Her declaration sent primitive satisfaction flooding me. Not jealousy. Pride. Pride in her strength, her certainty, her refusal to apologize for taking what she needed.

“The clan will notice.” I kept my voice neutral, testing.

“Let them.” Fire flickered in her eyes. “I’ll build my pack as I choose.”

Exactly as she chose. Not as biology dictated. Not as the Matron or society demanded. Choice.

“Jaxom.” I met his gaze, addressing him directly for the first time since entering. “You understand what this means?”

He straightened, meeting my gaze with surprising steadiness. “She’s my omega now. My priority. My everything.” His voice roughened. “But you’re still my alpha. That hasn’t changed.”

Complex dynamics, layered hierarchies. Not the simple alpha-omega pairing tradition of the past demanded, but something more intricate. More stable. More beautiful.

“We should return to the nest,” Seth said, finishing the salve with care that lingered on skin. “She needs rest. And—”

“And I need you all close.” Elara finished, unashamed. “To smell you, feel you, know you’re mine.”

The honesty unraveled the last of my restraint. Through our bond, her exhaustion pulsed—yet beneath it hummed deep contentment.

“Can you walk?” I asked Jaxom, noting how his eyes remained slightly unfocused, drunk on the claiming.

“The claiming can be intense for betas,” Seth murmured, already gathering their scattered clothing from the cabin floor. “Omega saliva contains compounds that—”

“I’m fine.” Jaxom protested even as he struggled to sit up, the sheet sliding dangerously low. “Just... overwhelmed. Today wasn’t something I thought would ever happen to me… only in my dreams.”

Elara made a soft sound, pressing closer to him, uncaring of her nakedness. “My fault. I was... intense.”

“Perfect,” he whispered, wonder threading his voice. “You were perfect.”

Seth helped them dress with brisk efficiency, though his fingers lingered when hers brushed his. The air thickened with our mingled scents—arousal, claim, belonging.

The journey back to the nest became a careful dance of bodies and needs.

Elara walked between us, one hand in mine, the other holding Jaxom’s, while Seth managed our medical supplies and kept watch for any signs of distress.

Through the corridors of Paradise , our scents mingled and merged—tropical warmth and vanilla sweetness, cedar storms and citrus-pine clarity.

Pack.

The word resonated through our bonds. We weren’t just individuals anymore—we were becoming something new. Something stronger.

The nest room door sealed behind us with a soft hiss, shutting out the world. Elara stood at the center of the space she’d claimed, her chosen pack gathered around her, and a steady peace flowed through our bonds.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, though it wasn’t really a question. “All of you. Please.”

As if we could leave. As if any force in the universe could drag us from our omega’s side when she called to us with such naked need. Jaxom sank onto the bed first, exhaustion from the claiming finally overwhelming pride. Seth followed, medical instincts keeping him close to his newest pack mate.

I held back a moment, watching her arrange us with subtle touches, building her nest not only from blankets and pillows but from people—her pack.

“Luca.” She held out her hand to me, invitation and command combined. “Please.”

I went to her, always. Pulled her into my chest, felt her sigh into me while her hands reached for Seth and Jaxom, binding us together.

“Sleep,” I murmured against her hair. “We’re here. We’re yours.”

“ Mine ,” she agreed, the word slurring with exhaustion and satisfaction.

Through our bonds, contentment pulsed—four hearts finding rhythm, four souls clicking into place. Tonight, in the nest our omega had built, we were exactly where we belonged.