Page 35

Julain

T he scream that tears from Lila's throat as she comes apart between us reverberates through my chest like a physical blow.

My fingers are still buried inside her molten heat, working her through the aftershocks while Dean's hands continue their ministrations on her breasts.

Callum holds her steady beneath us, all of us breathing hard as her orgasm slowly ebbs.

But even as her body goes limp with temporary satisfaction, I can smell the deeper need still burning beneath her skin. The heat isn't satisfied, won't be satisfied until she's been properly knotted and filled.

My cock throbs painfully against my jeans as my alpha brain roars one word over and over. Claim.

But I can't. Won't. Not like this.

I force myself to keep my movements gentle as I slowly withdraw my fingers from her slick heat, even as every instinct screams at me to strip naked and bury myself inside her until she can't remember her own name.

She's in heat. She's not thinking clearly.

Whatever she thinks she wants right now, she needs someone with enough control to make rational decisions.

Someone who won't take advantage.

Even if it kills me.

And God, it just might. Her scent is so concentrated in this small room it's like drowning in liquid want. My alpha hindbrain catalogs every detail, the way she's positioned over Callum, the slick coating her thighs, the desperate little sounds she's making and demands immediate action.

Take her. Knot her. Make her yours.

"Julian," she whimpers, and the broken way she says my name nearly shatters what's left of my control. "Please... help..."

The plea cuts through the haze enough for logic to reassert itself. She's asking for help, not claiming. She trusts me to know what she needs, even when she can't think straight enough to know herself.

I can do this. I can be what she needs, guidance, structure, someone thinking clearly enough to keep all of us safe.

Even if every cell in my body is screaming to do otherwise.

"Dean," I manage, my voice rougher than I've ever heard it. "Call your captain. Tell him you need three days for a family emergency. Don't give details."

Dean's eyes are dark with want, but he nods with the quick understanding of someone used to following orders in crisis situations. "Three days?"

"Heat cycles," I explain tersely, watching Lila writhe against Callum's chest. "They don't end quickly."

Understanding flashes across his face, followed immediately by something that looks like panic. "Julian, I've never—I don't know how to?—"

"I know." I force myself to step fully into the room, every movement careful and deliberate. "That's why I'm going to guide you both. But right now, I need you to make that call and get supplies. Water, towels, food that doesn't require cooking. Energy bars, fruit, anything easy."

"On it," Dean says, backing toward the door despite the obvious effort it takes to leave.

"And Dean?" I catch his attention before he disappears. "Call Maeve. Tell her what's happening—just that Lila's in heat and we're taking care of her. She'll understand. Ask her to arrange food deliveries for the next few days. Groceries, prepared meals, whatever she thinks we'll need."

Relief flashes across his face at having concrete tasks to focus on. "Got it."

As his footsteps retreat down the stairs, I turn my full attention to the scene in front of me.

Lila is grinding desperately against Callum's lap, her movements becoming more frantic with each passing second.

Callum himself looks like he's balanced on a knife's edge, hands trembling where they grip her hips, jaw clenched so tight I'm surprised his teeth don't crack.

"Callum," I say quietly, and his hazel eyes snap to mine with desperate relief. "How are you holding up?"

"Barely," he admits through gritted teeth. "Julian, I've never... I don't know what to do. What if I hurt her? What if I can't control myself?"

The vulnerability in his admission cuts through my own arousal-fogged brain. Of course he's terrified, Dean and Callum have never done this before. My own experience may have ended badly, but I understand omega biology, know what she needs.

She's asking for structure, I remind myself, watching her desperate, unfocused movements. She needs what you can give her, even if your last pack thought it was too much. Even if she decides later that you're too intense.

But I can't let that fear stop me from giving her what she needs right now. If she pushes me away later, when her head is clear, I'll understand. I'll step back. But I won't let her suffer because I'm afraid of being myself.

"You won't hurt her," I tell him with quiet certainty, settling on the edge of the nest. "Your instincts know what to do. Trust them, and trust me to guide you both."

Some of the tension leaves his shoulders at that, the relief of having someone else take responsibility in unfamiliar territory.

Callum's used to being the expert, the one with answers, but this is outside his wheelhouse.

Right now, having someone who understands omega biology take the lead is exactly what we need.

"Lila," I say softly, reaching out to cup her flushed cheek. "Look at me, love."

Her eyes find mine, pupils blown wide with heat but trying to focus. When our gazes meet, something settles in her expression, not calm, exactly, but the relief of having someone else in control.

"There you are," I murmur, stroking my thumb across her cheekbone. "I need you to listen carefully. Can you do that for me?"

She nods frantically, her movements against Callum never stopping but her attention fixed on me with desperate intensity.

"Good girl." The praise makes her melt, a soft whimper escaping her lips. "We're going to take care of you. All of us. But you need to trust us to know what's best, what you need. Can you do that?"

"Yes," she gasps, turning her face into my palm. "Yes, Julian, please, I need?—"

"I know what you need," I interrupt gently but firmly. "And you're going to get it. But we're going to do this slowly, carefully. Make sure you're ready for each step."

The analytical part of my brain—the part that's somehow still functioning despite the overwhelming scent of omega heat—catalogs every detail of her condition.

The flush across her chest, the way 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.

She's close to peak heat. Needs to be knotted soon or the emptiness will become genuinely painful rather than just uncomfortable.

But she also needs to be prepared properly. Needs care and attention and the kind of thorough loving that will make this good for her instead of just functional.

"Callum," I say without taking my eyes off Lila's face. "I want you to touch her. Gentle at first—hands, mouth, whatever feels right. Help her stay relaxed."

"I don't know—" he starts.

"Yes, you do," I cut him off. "Your instincts know exactly what she needs. Stop thinking and start feeling."

Callum's hands begin moving over her skin with increasing confidence, and I help him lift the damp t-shirt over her head, revealing flushed skin and perfect breasts that make my mouth water. His palms cup her now-bare flesh, thumbs circling her nipples until she arches with a broken cry.

I need to get out of these clothes before I lose what's left of my control. My hands shake as I work at my belt, then my shirt, stripping away the barriers between my skin and hers. When I'm finally naked, my cock jutting proudly from my hips, Lila's eyes fix on me with desperate hunger.

My own hands join his on her bare skin, sliding down her sides to her hips. She's fever-hot to the touch, her whole body trembling with need, and the contact makes her whimper and press closer.

"That's it," I encourage, my voice dropping into that commanding tone that seems to cut through her heat-haze. "Let us take care of you. Let us make you feel good."

Between our four hands, we continue building her arousal back up. Her slick renews itself, coating her thighs and soaking the blankets beneath us as her need intensifies again.

"Perfect," I breathe, watching her respond to our touch. "You're ready now, aren't you, love?"

"Yes," she gasps, her hips rolling against my fingers. "Please, Julian, I need you inside me. Need your knot."

The direct request nearly shatters what's left of my control. She wants me first. Chose me to fill the aching emptiness that's eating her alive.

"I know, love," I manage, withdrawing my fingers and positioning myself between her thighs. "I'm going to take care of you."

I settle between her thighs, my cock jutting proudly as I position myself at her entrance. The head notches against her slick opening, and the contact makes us both groan, she feels like molten silk, hot and wet and perfect.

"Slowly," I remind myself as much as her, beginning to press forward—then I freeze. "Wait. Lila, protection. We don't have?—"

"I'm on birth control," she gasps, her hips lifting to try to take me deeper. "Please, Julian, don't stop. I need you, need this?—"

Relief floods through me, followed immediately by renewed desire. "You're sure?"

"Yes," she sobs, her hands gripping my shoulders desperately. "Please, I can't wait anymore. It hurts."

That breaks the last of my hesitation. I press forward, and she takes me easily, her body welcoming me like it was made for this moment. The sensation is overwhelming, molten heat enveloping me completely, her slick making everything perfect, her broken moans of pleasure filling the air around us.

"Fuck," Callum breathes from beside us, his voice rough. "Look at her."

When I'm fully seated inside her, my knot pressed against her entrance but not yet swollen enough to lock us together, we both pause to breathe. She feels incredible, hot and tight and utterly perfect around me, like she was made specifically for this moment.