Page 13 of Stream Heat (Omega Stream #1)

CHAPTER TEN

Kara

I’d faced down professional tournaments with less anxiety than I felt staring at my own reflection in the glossy computer monitor.

My palms were damp, and every time I adjusted my headset it just made me look more desperate, not less.

The comeback stream was going live in less than ten minutes, and I was trying to pretend, at least to myself, that I didn’t almost die from suppressant withdrawal three days ago.

But I didn't fool easily, especially not the guy who filled the entire doorway behind me like some kind of bouncer.

“You don’t have to do this,” Reid said, folding his arms and bracing his shoulder against the frame like he was trying to look casual and not concerned. “Not today. We can push it back.”

He should’ve known better. We’d already rehashed this a hundred times. He knew the answer.

I shoved a hand through my hair and then reached for my headset again, like maybe the fifth try would magically glue it to my skull.

“The longer I stay offline, the wilder the speculation goes. If I don’t get out in front of it now, someone else is going to do it for me.

And they’ll twist it into whatever gets them the most clicks.

” There was a tremor in my voice, but I figured I had a right to be nervous. I wasn’t exactly at the top of my game.

He didn’t say anything, just watched me with those unreadable alpha eyes. The tension stretched out until I finally looked up.

“Two hours,” he said, like he was reading the stopwatch on my forehead. “That’s what Dr. Patel signed off on.”

I nodded. “I remember. I’m not an invalid, Maddox.”

His lips twitched, but not like he thought anything was funny.

“Never said you were.” His gaze flicked over my face, landing on the dark shadows under my eyes the concealer couldn’t cover up, on the flush across my cheeks, because lately my body temperature had a mind of its own.

“Just want to make sure you remember the boundaries.”

Boundaries. Yeah, those hit differently now that I was living in his house, boxed in by Pack Wrecked’s alpha pheromones and trying to convince the entire internet we were suddenly thick as thieves. Nothing about these boundaries was as simple as a line on the floor.

“Crystal clear,” I muttered, spinning back to my setup and checking that the camera angle was good enough to make it look effortless. “Don’t you have your own stream to get ready for?”

He didn’t take the bait. “Already done. We’re going dual-stream, your channel and the Pack Wrecked main. It’ll get you maximum exposure.”

I snorted. “What, didn’t want to miss raking in all the extra engagement from my public meltdown?”

His jaw flexed, but at least he tried to hold it together. “It’s not about using you, Quinn,” he said, like he was trying not to tiptoe over some invisible line. “It’s about owning the story before someone else does.”

“Yeah, by pretending we’re suddenly besties.” I nudged my pop filter, fingers a little shaky. “No one’s going to buy that.”

“Not friends,” he corrected, voice low. “Packmates. Not the same thing.”

He said it like it mattered. There was a pause, and I blinked up at him. A hint of cedar and thunderstorm cut through the tech-sterile air. It made something animal and unfamiliar in my chest go tense, on high alert.

“We’re not packmates,” I said, firmer than before, like just saying it could keep it all buttoned up. “It’s a business arrangement. That’s all it is.”

He didn’t argue. “Right. Business.”

His tone was clipped, and I hated how I could practically taste the way his mood shifted. Silence hummed between us, broken only by the whirring fans of my PC.

“Five minutes,” he said, finally checking his watch. “I’ll be next door if you need anything.”

As soon as he left, I took a deep, steadying breath, which was a mistake given that his scent still hung heavily in the air.

I couldn’t tell if it was the withdrawal aftereffects or just the way alpha scent was crowded in every corner of this house, but it felt like I was a live wire, overreacting to everything.

My skin was hypersensitive, and every sound, every emotion, felt dialed up higher than I could handle.

I clicked open my streaming program and nearly choked on the numbers. Over fifty thousand people queued up already. I’d never had this kind of traffic, even at the peak of my career. Nothing like a spectacular trainwreck to get people’s attention.

The door cracked open again. This time it was Theo, bouncing on his toes, practically vibrating. He looked like he’d chugged three energy drinks in the last half hour.

“Showtime?” he grinned, bouncing through the doorway like he’d just scored a game-winning kill. “Chat’s on fire already. The Pack Wrecked announcement is blowing up, over a million hits and counting.”

“Great,” I deadpanned. “My medical crisis, now in full HD.”

He hesitated, his grin faltering. “That’s not what we’re doing, Quinn.”

“Isn’t it?” I waved at my carefully curated background, the little details that would tell everyone exactly where I was without spelling it out. “It’s all theater, Theo. Let’s not pretend it isn’t.”

He watched me, that usual hyperactive energy fading down into something more measured. “Funny. For someone who spent her whole life playing a persona online, you’re weirdly uptight about this performance.”

It stung in a way I didn’t want to admit. But before I could come up with a comeback, he checked his phone and said, “Reid’s waiting for your signal. Two minutes to go-live.” He smiled, but it was a little less bright than before. “Break a leg, Quinn.”

When he left, I paused and stared straight into the camera lens.

I tried to find that piece of myself, the sharp, witty Quinn who had made a whole brand out of her near-invincibility, the Beta who could hang with the Alphas without breaking a sweat.

But she was gone. I wasn’t sure she’d ever really existed.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Reid. Ready when you are.

I squared my shoulders, took one last deep breath, and hit the “Go Live” button. No backing out now.

The intro jingle played. Instantly, chat flooded the screen, scrolling so fast I could barely register the words, just the rush of color and excitement.

QUINN IS BACK

IS SHE AT PACK WRECKED??

QUEEN LIVES

OMG WHAT HAPPENED

I leaned into the mic, voice steadier than I felt. “Hey, chat. Yes, I’m alive. No, I’m not taking questions about what happened. And, yes, the background’s new. Good eye.”

The comments went wild, a blur of speculation and surprise.

“For those of you who missed it, I’m streaming from the Pack Wrecked house today. I’ll be working with them for the foreseeable future.”

ENEMIES TO LOVERS???

quinn + diesel content

is this real

I cleared my throat. “I know, I know. It’s the collaboration no one saw coming. Sometimes life throws you curveballs, and…”

A knock at the door, perfectly scripted, cut me off. Reid poked his head in.

“You ready for the joint segment?” His voice was smooth, calculated alpha charm.

“Perfect timing,” I said, waving him in. “Chat, brace yourselves; I’m about to add a second ego to this stream.”

He dropped into the seat next to mine, close enough that his scent rolled over me in a wave, sandalwood and ozone and something that short-circuited my brain. My whole body went tense. I forced myself to act unfazed.

“Miss me, Quinn?” He wore his classic smirk, the one that had been memed for years. “Chat was taking bets on it.”

“In their dreams,” I shot back, the banter coming easier now that we’d slipped into familiar rhythm. “They’re just surprised I haven’t stuffed a sock in your mouth to stop your snoring. For the record, these walls are paper thin.”

The truth was his room was nowhere near mine, I just needed to plant the idea for the fans.

Chat collectively lost their minds:

SHE KNOWS HOW HE SLEEPS

PACK WRECKED CONFIRMED

they’re bonding aren’t they omg

He huffed a laugh. “You’d think she’d appreciate the guy who makes her coffee every morning, but no, just complaints.”

I rolled my eyes. “If that sludge counts as coffee, I prefer my caffeine intravenously.”

“She takes it with two sugars,” he told the chat, like it was some big state secret. “Plays tough, but she’s got a sweet tooth.”

The implication wasn’t subtle, and my cheeks started to heat. Chat noticed, obviously.

the tension is unreal

quinn blushing????

diesel knows how she likes it

I pivoted hard back to the topic. “Right, anyway, like I was saying, I’ll be working with Pack Wrecked on content. Starting today.”

Reid picked it up, smooth as always. “We’re kicking off with a bang. The Apex Invitational, this weekend. Quinn’s on our squad.”

That was news. I shot him a look, and he just shrugged like it was nothing.

“If I have to haul your ass through qualifiers, it’s going to be a long weekend,” I said, refusing to let him see how thrown off-balance I was.

“Pretty big talk for someone who’s been benched for a month,” he shot back, but his tone was gentler than I remembered. Softer, like he knew exactly what it cost me to be here.

“Please. I’d wipe the floor with you with one hand tied behind my back.”

“Then prove it. Right here. One v one.”

He said it like a challenge and a dare. Our eyes locked, and suddenly, I couldn’t remember how to breathe. My hands tingled, and something unfamiliar clenched low in my belly.

“You’re on,” I managed, twisting back to my screen to set up the game. “Prepare your apologies for the audience.”

Even as I queued up the match, chat kept spiraling:

bet they’ll be bonded by next stream

this is packmate energy

look how she looks at him now