Page 17 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas (Hollow Haven #2)

Elias

I was organizing herb supplies in my apothecary when my phone buzzed with a text from Hollis. The message made my stomach drop.

Willa having suppressant problems. Bad ones. Wes is taking her home. She might need omega wellness support. Can you help?

I typed back immediately: On my way. What’s her address?

412 Magnolia Crescent. The house with the grey siding.

I’d been thinking about the conversation at The Tumble Mug all morning, the way we’d all awkwardly acknowledged our interest in Willa and agreed to let her choose her own path.

The idea of pack dynamics with Rhett and Wes felt both terrifying and right in a way I hadn’t expected.

But I also knew how carefully Willa guarded her vulnerability, how she’d been hurt badly enough to move halfway across the country.

Whatever we were hoping might develop between us, she’d need time and space to even consider the possibility of trusting one alpha, let alone three.

Now she was having a medical crisis, and every protective instinct I possessed was screaming at me to help.

I quickly assembled my emergency omega wellness kit. Scent-neutralizing cloths, calming herb blends, emergency comfort supplies. Nothing invasive or presumptuous, just the basics for helping someone get through acute suppressant withdrawal symptoms.

The drive to Magnolia Crescent took less than five minutes, but it felt like forever. Suppressant failure could be dangerous if not properly managed, and the thought of Willa suffering through it alone made my alpha instincts burn with the need to provide care and comfort.

Wes’s truck was parked outside the house when I arrived. Even from the street, I could catch traces of destabilized omega scent drifting through the air. Jasmine and summer rain, but wrong somehow. Unregulated and distressed.

Willa was going to need more support than she realized so I grabbed my kit from the passenger seat and quickly headed to the house.

I knocked softly on the front door, not wanting to startle her in her current state. Wes opened it within seconds, his expression tight with concern.

“How is she?” I asked quietly.

“Shaky, dizzy, scent completely destabilized. She’s trying to pretend it’s not as bad as it obviously is.” Wes stepped back to let me in. “I think she’s scared.”

The small living room smelled strongly of omega distress, the jasmine-rain signature I’d come to associate with Willa now sharp with anxiety and hormonal chaos. She was curled on the couch, wrapped in what looked like every blanket she owned, her face pale and her hands visibly trembling.

“Willa?” I said softly, settling into the chair across from her couch. “I’m here to help. How are you feeling?”

She looked up at me with eyes that were slightly glassy from whatever biochemical chaos was happening in her system. “Like my body is betraying me at the worst possible time.”

“Your body is trying to stabilize itself,” I corrected gently. “Suppressants work by artificially dampening your natural cycles. When they fail, your system has to readjust to its own patterns. It’s not betrayal. It’s biology trying to return to normal.”

“How long does that take?” she asked, looking worried.

“Depends on how long you’ve been suppressed and how your body handles the transition.” I opened my kit and pulled out a small vial of neutralizing oil. “May I check your scent baseline? It will help me understand where you are in the adjustment process.”

Willa glanced at Wes, who nodded encouragingly. “It’s not invasive,” he assured her. “Elias just needs to know what your natural signature is doing.”

She held out her wrist hesitantly, and I uncapped the vial. When I dabbed a small amount on her pulse point, her natural scent immediately became clearer. Jasmine and summer rain, but also something warmer underneath. Complex and beautiful, but definitely destabilized.

She’s going to need support through this transition , I realized. More than she’s ready to accept right now.

“What’s the verdict?” Willa asked, trying for lightness despite the worry in her eyes.

“You’re experiencing normal suppressant withdrawal,” I said honestly. “Your body is preparing to return to its natural cycle, which means some hormonal fluctuation over the next few days. Uncomfortable, but manageable with proper support.”

“Just uncomfortable?”

“The shaking should ease within a few hours. The dizziness might linger until tomorrow. Your scent will continue to strengthen as the artificial suppression wears off completely.” I pulled a small cloth from my kit. “But I can help with the immediate symptoms.”

The cloth was infused with chamomile and lavender, carefully balanced to provide comfort without interfering with her natural biology. I offered it to her, noting the way she hesitated before accepting it.

“This should help with the anxiety and physical discomfort,” I explained. “It won’t suppress your natural cycle, just ease the transition symptoms.”

Willa held the cloth to her nose and breathed deeply. I watched her shoulders relax slightly as the calming scents took effect.

“Better?” I asked.

“A little.” She looked at me with something that might have been gratitude. “Thank you. For coming, for helping, for not making this feel like a crisis.”

“It’s not a crisis,” I said firmly. “It’s a transition. And you don’t have to go through it alone.”

We sat in comfortable silence while the scent work did its job. Willa’s breathing deepened, her color improved, and the tight line of her shoulders eased. But what struck me most was the way she looked around her living space like she was seeing it differently.

“This place doesn’t feel like home yet,” she said suddenly, then looked embarrassed by the admission.

“That takes time,” I said gently. “Especially when you’re dealing with suppressant changes. Your nesting instincts might start reasserting themselves as your natural biology comes back online.”

“Nesting instincts,” she repeated, like the words were foreign.

“The urge to create safe, comfortable spaces. Gathering soft things, organizing your living area for maximum comfort and security. It’s completely normal for omegas, especially during transitions.”

Willa looked around her sparse duplex with its deliberately impersonal furniture and minimal belongings. “I’m not really a nester.”

“You might be surprised,” I said. “Suppressants don’t just dampen heat cycles. They can suppress a lot of natural omega instincts that might resurface as the medication clears your system.”

Willa had been chemically cut off from parts of herself for so long she’d forgotten they existed. I watched her carefully as she processed this information.

“What if I don’t want those instincts back?” she asked quietly. “What if being a ‘natural’ omega feels too vulnerable?”

The question broke something in my chest. The idea that she’d been taught to fear her own biology, to see omega instincts as weaknesses instead of strengths, made me want to find Sterling and explain a few things about proper omega care.

“Then you take it slow,” I said instead. “You explore what feels right for you without pressure or expectations. Being omega doesn’t mean following some predetermined script. It means honoring your own needs and boundaries.”

“And if I need help figuring out what those needs are?”

“Then you ask people you trust. People who want to support you without trying to control you.”

Willa was quiet for a long moment, the scent cloth pressed to her face. When she spoke, her voice was small and careful.

“I think I’ve forgotten how to trust my own instincts. Sterling spent so long telling me which parts of my omega nature were acceptable that I lost track of what I actually wanted versus what I thought I should want.”

And there it was. The real damage Sterling did. Not just controlling her career, but convincing her to distrust her own biology.

“That’s going to take time to sort out,” I said gently. “But maybe this transition period is an opportunity to rediscover those parts of yourself without external pressure.”

“Maybe.” She looked around her living space again, and I could see her trying to imagine what it might look like if she allowed herself to make it truly comfortable instead of just functional.

Finally, she reached across the space between us and touched the edge of the scent cloth I’d given her, her fingers brushing against mine briefly.

“Thank you,” she said. “For treating this like healthcare instead of judgment. For making me feel like I’m not broken.”

“You’re not broken,” I said firmly. “You’re just an omega whose body is trying to return to its natural patterns. And that’s something to support, not suppress.”

As I prepared to leave, I packed extra scent cloths into a small bag for her.

“If your symptoms get worse, or if you need any kind of support during this transition, call me immediately,” I said. “Day or night.”

“I will,” she said, and I believed her.

“Wes,” I said, turning to him as I gathered my kit. “Make sure she has supplies to stay hydrated and she gets rest. The next twenty-four hours will be the most intense part of the withdrawal.”

“I can stay if she needs…” Wes began.

“I’ll be fine,” Willa interrupted, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced. “You both have lives and responsibilities. I can handle this.”

“You don’t have to handle it alone,” I said. “But we’ll respect whatever level of support you’re comfortable with.”

After we left her house, Wes and I stood by our vehicles for a moment, both processing what we’d witnessed.

“She’s going to need more help than she’s willing to ask for,” Wes said quietly.

“Probably,” I agreed. “But pushing will only make her retreat further. She has to choose to trust us.”

“And if she doesn’t?”