Page 1 of Stream Heat (Omega Stream #1)

CHAPTER ONE

Kara

"Eat shit and die, Maddox!" I slammed my mouse down, barely resisting the urge to throw it across the room as I landed the perfect headshot.

The RGBs were set to rage mode , bleeding violet and blood orange under my desk in three-second bursts making everything look almost like it was on fire.

The whir of heat from my gaming PC and the slow-cycling skull LED were the only light in the room, making everything feel like a battleground.

I couldn’t help but smile as the kill cam replayed my flawless execution in glorious slow motion, Reid's character's head exploding in a satisfying burst of pixels. "That's what happens when you try to flank me, you predictable knot-head."

My chat erupted, emotes and messages scrolling so fast they blurred together:

QUEEN DESTROYS DIESEL

HOLY SHIT THAT SHOT

pack wrecked getting WRECKED

she's on FIRE today

I flashed a razor-sharp grin at my camera. "What's that, chat? You thought Pack Wrecked might actually win this round? Please. They're just Alpha posturing with mediocre aim."

Through my headset, I heard Theo's exaggerated groan. "Come on, Queen! Give us a chance to breathe at least!"

"Breathe on your own time," I fired back, already repositioning my character for the next engagement. "Tournament qualifiers wait for no one, especially not fragile Alpha egos."

The viewer count ticked up another thousand. Sixty-three thousand people watching me dismantle Pack Wrecked during this high-stakes qualifier. My sponsors would be ecstatic, the engagement metrics were already off the charts, and we weren't even halfway through.

Sponsor overlays popped across my screen: #NESTSYN SAYS HOT HANDS. ORDER NOW. Another garish flurry of sponsor art ran along the bottom third. Perfect timing. RazorTech would be ecstatic.

"Someone's extra spicy today," Reid's voice rumbled through my headset, that irritating Alpha confidence never wavering despite his team's impending loss. "Must be all that energy drink rotting your brain, Queen."

"At least I have a brain to rot," I shot back. "Unlike some egotistical thumbs I could mention."

Chat went ballistic.

DADDY ISSUES SPEEDRUN

BETA SLAYS

TOXIC KING

I clicked my tongue. "Honestly, Diesel, try again when you've evolved past your caveman phase."

He chuckled low, irritatingly calm. "Don't need evolution when I'm already better. I can handle anything you’ve got, Queen."

"Funny you should mention handling," I cooed, "I’ve yet to see you finish anything you start."

Theo cackled in my ear. Malik snorted. Even Jace's quiet static felt like laughter.

My moderators highlighted a donation message.

Quinn, how do you stay so focused during intense matches?

"Simple," I answered, landing another perfect shot on Jace's character. "I don't let distractions in. Not game distractions, not life distractions, and especially not Alpha distractions. Sorry, boys."

The truth was a bit more complicated than that, but no one needed to know about the small pill container disguised as a vitamin case sitting just out of camera view.

I'd been feeling off all morning, headache, slight temperature, irritability worse than usual.

My headset bit into the space behind my ear where the cartilage had never healed and sweat was pooling behind my knees.

Nothing I couldn't push through, but enough to warrant an extra dose of my "supplements. "

"Speaking of distractions," I continued, using Reid’s gamertag instead of his name, "Diesel's busy flexing for his camera instead of watching his six."

Reid's laugh was low and infuriating. "Don't need to watch my six when I'm coming straight for your throat, Queen."

Something about his voice sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. I brushed it off as annoyance and focused on the game, but my hands felt suddenly clammy on my mouse.

You okay, Queen?

My chat picked up on something, maybe a flicker in my expression.

"I'm fine," I said dismissively, wiping sweat from my forehead. Was it hot in here? I reached for my water bottle, accidentally knocking over my pill container. "Shit."

I quickly scooped the two small white tablets that spilled back into their case before the camera could catch them clearly. Just vitamins, as far as anyone watching knew. Just normal supplements for a normal Beta streamer with normal Beta biology. Definitely.

"Butterfingers much?" Ash's deep voice cut through my headset.

"Bite me, Grave," I muttered, popping one of the pills and washing it down. The familiar bitter taste lingered on my tongue, a small price to pay for the career I'd built.

"Gladly," he shot back, and again that strange shiver ran through me.

What the hell was wrong with me today? I never reacted to Alpha baiting. That was my whole brand, the sharp-tongued Beta who could hang with the Alphas without all the messy designation bullshit. The streamer who succeeded on skill, not biology.

"Focus up, boys," I said, forcing steel back into my voice. "Final round, and I'd hate for your viewers to see you get completely embarrassed."

The match intensified, my team pushing forward with coordinated precision. I was in the zone, my commentary flowing with practiced ease.

"And that's how you clear a point, children. Take notes, Pack Wrecked. This is what actual strategy looks like, not just Alpha hormones and posturing."

The sponsor notification popped up in my stream overlay, RazorTech Gaming, my biggest contract, highlighting their new peripheral line.

Perfect timing during peak viewership. Their rep would be pleased.

I gave my sponsor face along with a fifteen-second flawless read with eye contact, half-smile, the glimmer of teeth, all before snapping back to the match.

Another wave of heat washed over me, stronger this time. My shirt clung uncomfortably to my back. The lights in my streaming room suddenly seemed too bright, the sounds in my headset too loud. I was aware, acutely, of the way my heart hammered just a little too hard.

Queen, you're looking flushed. You sick?

"Just hot from carrying this entire match," I deflected, but my voice sounded strange even to my own ears, higher, tighter.

Reid's character appeared in my sights, and I lined up the shot that would clinch our victory. My finger tensed on the mouse button, but something was wrong. My vision blurred slightly, the screen swimming before me.

"Is it hot in here?" I murmured, not meaning to say it aloud.

"What's that, Queen?" Reid asked, his voice suddenly sharp with attention.

I missed the shot, a clean, easy headshot that I would normally nail in my sleep.

"Nothing," I snapped, embarrassed by the mistake. "Just wondering if your massive ego is generating excess heat through my screen."

But the sensation was getting worse. My skin felt hypersensitive; the fabric of my hoodie suddenly unbearable against my arms. Sounds became amplified, the click of my keyboard like thunder, the voices in my headset vibrating through me in ways they never had before.

Is Quinn okay? Like for real.

She looks sick!

someone check on her

"Quinn." Reid's voice had changed completely and he used my last name, which let me know that he was definitely not playing around.

Gone was the competitive edge, replaced with something that washed over me like a physical touch.

The fact that he called me by my last name only made it worse. "Are you okay?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I hissed, but even as I spoke, another wave crashed through me. A desperate, clawing need building in my core. My thighs pressed together desperately. A slick warmth pooled where it shouldn’t. My vision swam. I could feel my pupils blow wide.

"I think we need to end the stream," Theo said, his usually chaotic energy suddenly focused and serious.

"I'm fine," I insisted, even as my hands trembled on the mouse. "Just feeling a little off."

The chat was moving too fast to read now:

OMG IS SHE IN HEAT

HOLY SHIT

CLIP THIS CLIP THIS

Quinn's an OMEGA?!?!

"Quinn," Reid's voice had dropped into what I recognized with horror as an Alpha command tone. "End. The. Stream. Now."

My body responded before my brain could, a whimper escaping my lips that was picked up perfectly by my mic. The sound, which was needy, desperate, and unmistakably Omega, echoed back through my headset.

"I can't… " My voice broke as another wave crashed through me, more violent than anything I'd ever experienced.

My skin flushed visibly on camera, sweat beading on my forehead.

The suppressants had failed catastrophically, years of chemical blockage giving way to a heat crash more violent than any natural cycle.

I watched in horror as my chat connected the dots in real time.

OMG QUINN IS AN OMEGA

SHE'S BEEN LYING THIS WHOLE TIME

Is this a joke???

Quinn in HEAT on main!!!!

The sponsor notification flashed again, RazorTech's sleek logo suddenly feeling like an accusation. My career, my carefully constructed identity, my entire world was collapsing in real time while sixty-three thousand people watched.

My phone lit up with notifications, management, sponsors, fellow streamers, all bombarding me at once. The room spun around me, scents suddenly overwhelming, my own unfamiliar sweetness filling the air, wild honey and cracked pepper where there should have been nothing but neutral Beta pheromones.

"Kara!" Reid's voice cut through the chaos, commanding and urgent. "Cut the stream!"

With trembling fingers, I hit the emergency stream end button, shutting down the streaming program and cutting off my camera and mic that connected me to my audience. But it was too late. The damage was done.

Eight years of pretending to be a Beta. Eight years of illegal suppressants. Eight years of building my brand on a lie.

All undone in sixty seconds of biological betrayal.