Page 33

Callum

I stare at the computer screen, trying to focus on timber orders. Numbers blur together. My fingers feel clumsy on the keyboard, but that's not what's bothering me.

Can't stop thinking about Sunday night. How Lila's scent had gone warm and sweet at Maeve's table. How scared she'd looked after we told her how we felt.

How quickly she'd left.

I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. Four days since that dinner, and I still can't shake the feeling that I fucked it up somehow. She deserves someone better, I think. Someone smoother. Someone who knows what to say.

My phone buzzes against the desk. Lila's name appears on the screen, and my pulse kicks up before I even read the message.

Help.

One word. No explanation, no context. Just that single, simple plea that sends every protective instinct I have into overdrive.

I'm on my feet before I've fully processed what I'm doing, grabbing my toolbox and keys. Could be anything, leaking tap, broken shelf, that temperamental oven acting up again. Whatever it is, she texted me. Out of everyone she could have asked, she chose me.

The drive to her house takes ten minutes that feel like hours. I knock on the front door, calling her name, but there's no answer. When I try the handle, it turns easily.

Unlocked. She never leaves it unlocked.

The moment I step inside, her scent hits me like a physical blow.

Green apple and white musk, but different.

Molten. Syrup-thick and sweet with something that makes my brain short-circuit and my body respond before rational thought can intervene.

The air itself feels heavy, saturated with omega heat in a way that bypasses every wall I've built around my self-control.

My cock hardens almost painfully against my work jeans, my own scent spiking sharp and possessive in response. I grip the doorframe, knuckles going white.

Fuck. She's in heat.

"Lila?" I call out, my voice rougher than I intended. "Where are you?"

No answer, but I can follow her scent trail through the house, stronger in the living room, concentrated near the stairs. My boots sound loud on the hardwood as I climb, each step bringing me closer to whatever's waiting upstairs.

The scent leads me to a room I've never seen before. Small, painted blue, filled with afternoon sunlight and the most intoxicating concentration of omega heat I've ever encountered. I pause at the doorway, automatically toeing off my work boots.

My vision actually hazes for a moment when I see her.

She's kneeling in the center of what can only be described as a nest. Blankets and pillows arranged with careful precision, all of it saturated with her scent and something else—something familiar.

My flannel, spread across one side. Dean's t-shirt tucked near where her head would rest. What looks like Julian's button-down folded neatly at the foot of the arrangement.

But it's Lila herself that makes my world tilt off its axis.

She's wearing only an oversized t-shirt, damp with sweat and clinging to curves I've been trying not to think about for days.

Her hair is mussed, cheeks flushed pink with heat, pupils blown wide and dark.

And between her thighs—Christ, between her thighs there's slick, actual slick pooling beneath her and soaking into the sheets.

Every cell in my body screams to move, to claim, to mark her as mine.

But she texted me. Called for me.

My hands are shaking as I pull out my phone, trying to think past the haze of want and need. Dean's in that meeting with the Captain. Julian, then.

I try to type with unsteady fingers.

Lila's in heat. At her house. Don't know what to do.

Julian's response comes quickly: On my way. 15 minutes. Keep her comfortable. Don't leave her alone.

Don't leave her alone. Right. I can do that.

"Callum..."

Her voice is wrecked, pleading, and when I look up from my phone she's watching me with those wide green eyes. The sound of my name on her lips makes my cock throb and my scent spike so sharp it's probably filling the entire room.

"Please..." she breathes, her thighs clenching as another wave of slick dampens the sheets beneath her. "Help..."

I drop to my knees beside the nest, toolbox forgotten somewhere behind me. My hands tremble as I reach out to brush damp hair away from her flushed face, and the moment my skin touches hers, she whimpers.

The sound goes straight through me like lightning.

"Lila," I manage, my voice barely recognizable even to myself. "What do you need from me?"

She leans into my touch, her skin fever-warm and impossibly soft. When she looks up at me, pupils dilated and lips parted, I can see the exact moment her heat-addled brain processes my scent.

"You," she whispers, so quiet I almost miss it. "Need you."

The admission nearly breaks what's left of my control. My free hand clenches into a fist at my side. She's in heat. She's not thinking clearly.

But fuck if it doesn't feel like everything I've ever wanted to hear.

"Julian's coming," I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady and failing completely. "He'll know what to do."

"Want you," she says, her hand finding my wrist and gripping tight. Her touch burns through my skin like a brand. "Need you. Right now."

Her scent blooms even richer around us, molten green apple and white musk mixed with something purely female and utterly intoxicating.

My alpha hindbrain catalogues every detail—the way her pupils are blown wide, how her breathing has gone shallow and quick, the steady drip of slick that means her body is preparing itself for exactly what mine wants to give her.

"Callum," she whimpers, tugging at my wrist. "Please. It hurts."

It hurts.

Those two words shatter whatever restraint I've been clinging to. Not the want. I can handle want. But pain? The idea that she's suffering?

That I can't allow.

"Okay," I say softly, settling more firmly beside her nest. "Okay, sweetheart. I'm here. Tell me what hurts."

"Everything," she breathes, her free hand pressing against her lower belly. "Empty. So empty it aches."

My cock jerks at the words, but I force myself to focus on her comfort instead of my own rapidly fraying control.

"I don't..." I start, then stop. What the hell am I supposed to do? I've never dealt with this before. Never been with an omega, let alone one in heat.

She looks up at me, pupils blown wide but focused. "Need your knot," she whispers, her voice rough with want. "It's the only thing that'll make it stop."

My cock throbs at the words.

"Lila," I manage.

Her grip on my wrist tightens. "Close," she whispers. "Need you close."

I shift carefully, moving from kneeling beside the nest to settling against the pillows where I can support her weight without crowding her space. The moment my back hits the wall, she's moving, curling into my side with a soft sound of relief that makes my chest tight.

Her scent wraps around me like a living thing, molten and sweet and so concentrated it's making my head spin. This close, I can feel the heat radiating from her skin, can hear every small sound she makes.

"Better?" I ask, my arm coming up automatically to circle her shoulders.

"Mmm," she hums, nuzzling against my chest. "Smell good. Safe."

A low purr starts in my chest without conscious thought, the alpha response to an omega finding comfort in my presence. Lila melts even more into my side at the sound.

Safe. The word does something complicated to my chest.

My phone buzzes against my leg, probably Julian updating his ETA, but I don't check it. Right now, Lila is warm and pliant against my side, her breathing starting to even out, and nothing else matters.

"Callum?" she says quietly, her voice muffled against my shirt.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For coming. For staying."

The simple gratitude in her voice nearly undoes me. "Nowhere else I'd rather be," I tell her, and mean it completely.

She tilts her head to look up at me, those green eyes still dark with heat but clearer now, more focused. "Really?"

"Really." I brush my thumb across her cheekbone, marveling at how soft her skin is. "You asked me for help, sweetheart. Of course I came."

Something shifts in her expression, heat and want and something deeper that makes my pulse stutter. She pushes up slightly, bringing her face closer to mine, and I can feel her breath warm against my lips.

"Lila," I start, but whatever warning I was going to give dies when she presses her mouth to mine.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, like she's testing my response. But when I don't pull away, she deepens it, her tongue darting out to trace my bottom lip.

I groan despite my best efforts, my free hand coming up to cup the back of her neck. She tastes like heat and want and something indefinably sweet that makes my head spin. When she whimpers against my mouth, I have to use every ounce of self-control not to flip her onto her back.

Her alpha.

When did I start thinking that?

She pulls back just enough to look at me, her lips pink and slightly swollen. "More," she whispers, her hand fisting in my shirt. "Please, Callum. Need more."

"Lila..." I start, but she's already moving, throwing one leg over my lap to straddle me properly. The position puts her core directly against the hard ridge of my cock, separated only by my jeans and whatever scraps of fabric she's wearing.

The contact sends electricity shooting through my entire system. My hands go to her hips automatically, fingers digging into soft flesh as she rocks against me with a broken moan. A growl rumbles deep in my chest before I can stop it.

"Please," she breathes, grinding down harder. "Need you inside me. Need you to make it stop hurting."

Every alpha instinct I have roars to life at those words. She's asking for exactly what my body wants to give her. It would be so easy to flip her onto her back, strip away what little clothing she's wearing, and bury myself in all that slick heat.

But she's not thinking clearly. Heat does things to judgment, makes omegas want things they might regret later. And I refuse to be something she regrets.

"Sweetheart," I say carefully, my hands stilling her movement even though it's physically painful to stop her. "You're in heat. You're not thinking straight."

"I am," she insists, but her voice is breathless and desperate. "I know what I want. I want you."

I want you.

The words hit every vulnerable spot I have. She wants me. Chose to text me when she needed help.

But I can't. Not like this. Not when she might regret it tomorrow.

"Lila," I start again, but I'm interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

"Callum?" Julian's voice carries up from the hallway, carefully controlled but edged with something sharp.

A possessive snarl wants to tear from my throat—mine, she's mine—but I force it down. Julian's here to help. We need help. "I'm here."

Lila whimpers at the sound of another alpha's voice, her grip on my shirt tightening. "Don't leave," she whispers urgently. "Please don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere," I promise her, even as Julian appears in the doorway.

He takes in the scene. Lila straddling me in her nest, my hands on her hips, the air thick with heat and want and goes completely still. I watch his nostrils flare as her scent hits him, see the way his pupils dilate and his jaw clenches.

"How long has she been like this?" he asks, his voice carefully controlled but rougher around the edges.

"Not sure," I say, trying to ignore the way Lila is still moving against me. "Found her like this when I got here. She said it hurts."

Julian nods, taking a careful breath before speaking.

"Being around us triggered this. Our scents, the attention—" He pauses, jaw tightening.

"Her body's responding to potential pack bonds.

" His gaze flicks to where Lila is nuzzling against my neck, then back to my face.

"We need to get her through this safely. "

"We?" I ask, even though part of me already knows the answer.

"Yes," Julian says simply. "We."

And despite everything, despite my insecurities and fears, I find myself nodding.

Because Lila needs us. All of us.

Lila makes a soft sound against my throat, her lips pressing against my pulse point in a way that makes my entire body tense. Her scent spikes sweeter, more desperate.

"Lila," Julian says, his voice softer but strained with control, stepping further into the room. "Can you look at me, love?"

She turns her head without lifting it from my shoulder, those green eyes heavy-lidded and dark with want. "Julian," she breathes, and even his name sounds like a plea.

"We're going to take care of you," he tells her, his voice tight but sure. "All of us. But we need to know what you want. What you really want."

She blinks at him, some of the heat-haze clearing from her expression. "I want..." she starts, then stops, her gaze moving between us. "I want to choose. For once in my life, I want to choose what happens to me."

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning that goes far beyond heat and biology.

"Then choose," Julian says simply.

And as Lila looks up at me with those wide green eyes, her body warm and wanting against mine, I realize that whatever she chooses, I'm already lost.

"Callum," she whispers, her hand coming up to cup my face. "I choose you. Both of you. All of you."

All of you.

The words hit me like a benediction, like coming home after years of wandering. She chooses us. Chooses me.

And for the first time in my life, I feel like I might actually be worth choosing.