Page 27 of Stream Heat (Omega Stream #1)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Kara

The signs had all been there, lurking at the edge of my vision for days before I finally gave in and called it what it was: my next heat was on its way, whether I wanted it or not.

I could feel the change clawing up my spine inch by inch, a fever that started in the background and turned up the dial so slowly I barely noticed until I was halfway to disaster.

This wasn’t the full-system meltdown that had tanked my career and made me a punchline on streaming forums everywhere.

That had been a nuclear event, a haze of pheromones and frantic, embarrassing need, every ounce of dignity stripped away in front of thousands of live viewers.

No, this was something else, the insidious kind of heat that bled under your skin and rewrote all your instincts before you even realized you were compromised.

My scent sensitivity had ratcheted up until I could pick out anyone in the house just by the notes of their shampoo or the way Reid’s coffee cut through the air three rooms away.

I’d been jittery, impossible to keep still during long streams my leg going at warp speed under the desk, fingertips drumming on my thigh until I wanted to break a bone just to feel something else.

Every cell in my body had itched to move, to nest, to lock myself somewhere dark and safe until it was over.

Legal suppressants were supposed to ease the worst of it, Dr. Patel’s words, not mine, but my body had learned long ago how to chew up and spit out pharmaceuticals.

Eight years of illegal suppressants had turned by body into a minefield.

I could sense my biology probing at the edges, looking for cracks, hunting for any hint of weakness like water working its way through concrete.

The worst part? I knew the drugs might not be enough this time.

There was no magic bullet for a system this jacked up.

“You’re fidgety,” Reid had called from his seat without even looking up from his controller. He didn’t have to; his Alpha instincts were always tuned, always scanning, even when he was pretending not to care. “More than usual.”

I forced myself not to flinch and shot him a look from our little semicircle of gaming chairs. If I hadn’t already been running a fever, I would’ve blushed. Him noticing meant I was slipping; I was doing a piss-poor job of holding my own. “I’m fine.”

But I knew he could smell the lie, almost literally.

The way he inhaled, barely a twitch, but I saw it anyway, made my skin crawl.

His pupils had flared, just a fraction, and I knew what it meant.

He was locked in, and suddenly so were the other Alphas in the room.

Theo froze mid-hand-move, eyes focused like he was waiting for a bomb to go off.

Jace stopped tapping his tablet and looked at me over the edge, analyzing something I couldn’t see.

Malik’s presence had thickened, all steady gravity dialed up so high it was hard to breathe.

Ash, always rough around the edges, scowled, his jaw set so tight I wondered if it hurt.

The air got heavy. Electric. All five of them, all Alphas, and every one of them had just realized the Omega in their ranks was broadcasting distress signals whether I wanted to or not.

“It’s nothing,” I tried. The words felt hollow the instant I let them out. My body disagreed, there was a shiver I couldn’t swallow, a chill under my skin that screamed for blankets or something more than blankets, if I was honest. “Just withdrawal stuff. Normal.”

But none of us really believed that. This was biology clawing its way back, waking up after years of being drugged to sleep. A different animal altogether.

“Quinn.” Reid’s voice had dropped, and I wanted to throttle him for it. He wasn’t even trying to Alpha me, but there was something in the way he said my name that made it impossible for me to lie. I looked down so I didn’t have to meet his eyes. “Don’t lie. Not to us.”

The urge to run was so strong I nearly stood, but I held it together. Barely. “Fine. I think my heat’s coming. Dr. Patel said that could still happen on legal suppressants. My body’s chaos, so there’s no schedule. Could be tomorrow, could be a week, could be nothing.”

But I knew I wasn’t wrong, and if it hadn’t been for the team watching me with the intensity of a firing squad, I’d have admitted it out loud.

All the signs were there: the way I couldn’t shut out noise or light or scent, the way my skin felt crawling and wrong in any fabric, the way I wanted to shut myself in a closet and not come out until I was normal again.

“When?” Malik, always calm, always three steps ahead, asked. He didn’t like uncertainty. He wanted a timeline.

I shrugged, casual, but it felt like glass grinding in my stomach. “I don’t know. Few days, maybe? The meds should keep it from being like last time.”

Ash was the first to move past it. Tactical, ruthless, exactly what made him an asset when things got ugly. “We’ll prep. Stock food, recalibrate temp, make a plan for streaming.”

I hated the knee-jerk reaction in me, the surge of defensive pride that’d never helped anything. “I don’t need special treatment.” It came out sharp, automatic. Like I was thirteen again, telling my father I didn’t need a babysitter for stupid biology.

All five of them just… looked at me. The same expression, five different faces. You’re not fooling anyone. It was actually sort of impressive, the way they could line up on this without even trying.

I couldn’t even argue. “I’m on the right meds now,” I muttered.

“And they might not work,” Reid reminded me, not letting up for a second. It was infuriating, and I almost respected him for it. “Dr. Patel said your system’s unstable.”

I wanted to scream, but what was the point? He was right. If suppressants worked, great, maybe we’d get through this week with dignity intact. If not, it was going to get ugly, and all the planning in the world wouldn’t stop it.

“Fine. Maybe some prep is smart.” It nearly choked me to admit it, but the second the words were out, I saw something shift in the room.

Relief, or maybe it was just less anxiety? I didn’t know.

Jace, already on his tablet, just nodded, businesslike. “We’ll build a buffer. I’ll prep backup content, and we can rotate streams so you can bail if needed.”

“I’ll handle management,” Malik said, eyes steady. “Let sponsors know, so no one panics if there’s a disruption.”

They were all talking around me, tactical from the second the problem got named. Not one of them suggested tossing me out, isolating me, treating me like a liability. Just… fixing it, as if Omega heat was one more problem to solve.

“What about you guys?” The words came out before I could stop them. I wasn’t sure if it was paranoia or genuine concern, but the thought of five Alphas and me locked up together during heat felt like a recipe for disaster. “Five Alphas plus one Omega in heat? Come on. That isn’t safe.”

The quick sideways glances said more than words, like they’d already talked this over when I wasn’t in the room. Reid answered, voice unshakable. “We’ve made plans. We can handle it.”

I couldn’t help being skeptical. “Alpha biology isn’t famous for self-control.”

Everyone knew the horror stories, Alphas losing their minds, Omegas needing medical care afterward, all the ugly stuff no one wanted to talk about. That’s why there were laws and workplace rules and segregated dorms.

Ash’s eyes rolled so hard I thought they might fall out of his skull. “We’re not animals, Quinn. Control wasn’t optional in this house. Besides, we handled it before when we came to pick you up.”

Theo tried to make it lighter, but he couldn’t fake it all the way through. “We even have Alpha suppressants and quarantine protocols. Why d’you think it took us so long to get to you when you crashed on stream? We waited for our own meds to hit so nobody did something we’d regret.”

It shouldn’t have hit me like it did, but thinking of them suffering through Alpha suppressants for my sake was almost worse. That stuff ruined you, nausea, headaches, emotional static. “You guys shouldn’t have to do that.”

Reid was immovable. “We’re a team, Quinn. Your problem is our problem.”

There it was, plain and impossible to ignore. This was personal, not business, no matter how much any of us tried to keep it professional. And if they hadn’t walked away yet, they weren’t going to.

“I should just isolate,” I said, because it was the only answer that ever kept anyone in my life comfortable. “Hotel, maybe. Until it’s over.”

It was instantaneous, a chorus of “No” from all five, too loud for the size of the room. They even moved, bodies shifting forward to block the door, like I’d bolt and run if they didn’t.

“You’re safer here,” Malik said, all calm certainty. “We know your baseline. We know how to help. And we care.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to say I didn’t need help. But the thing gnawing under my skin was that I wanted to believe that last part, even if I knew better.

I lowered my voice. “What if I lose control? If I… ask for things I shouldn’t?”

The silence this time was heavy, loaded. We all knew what I meant, the begging, the biology, the kind of need that made you rip open boundaries and throw out consent. It wasn’t hypothetical.

Jace was matter-of-fact as he said, “We’d never take advantage. Not ever.”

Ash, head bobbing, jaw clenched. “We can handle ourselves. Even if you can’t.”

“Protocols, boundaries, safe words, support roles,” Malik said, his tone soothing my worry.

“Support roles,” I echoed, half-laughing even though none of this was funny.

Reid’s voice was level, clinical in a way that made things worse and better at the same time. “Non-sexual comfort. Scent support. Water. Temp adjustments. Only if you ask, only with consent.”

It was supposed to be comforting, and it was, but it also made my skin feel inside-out.

The thought of five Alphas scent-supporting me, bringing water, touching me, even just to check if I was feverish or in distress?

No thanks. Or… maybe yes, but that was a line I was never going to cross, even if my brain was already dangling over the edge and staring down.

“This sucks,” I muttered, scrubbing my hands over my face. “I didn’t want you all to see me like this.”

Theo’s voice was soft, almost gentle, but sharp when it landed. “Like what? A person who had to deal with an actual body? You think you were the first one here who ever had biology get in the way?”

“Weak,” I admitted, and it was like chewing glass. “I just… didn’t want you to see me weak.”

Years and years of conditioning, every mentor and doctor and teammate counting the ways Omegas screwed things up. If I had a dollar for every time someone warned me never to be the liability, I’d never have had to stream again.

Reid stood and walked over until he was just at the edge of my space.

He didn’t crowd me, didn’t use his size, just settled in until it was impossible not to look up.

“You were and are not weak. You survived eight years of chemical warfare against yourself. You’re facing fallout with more guts than most people ever would.

And you’re still fighting. Still showing up. Despite everything.”

It shouldn’t have broken me, but it almost did. My eyes stung, and my throat went tight. I shut that mess down fast.

Theo helped, as usual. “We’ve seen your worst already. Withdrawal. Meltdowns. That time you almost beaned Ash with a controller?”

I snorted, genuine, before I could help it. “He deserved it.”

“Yeah, but the point was, nothing about this was going to make us ditch you. We’re here.”

I wanted to doubt them, but the evidence said otherwise. So, for once, I gave in. “We do the plan. But I want privacy, locked doors, no risk of anyone, you know… crossing a line.”

Ash was ready. “Smart locks. Bedrooms only open from the inside. No exceptions.”

“Food and meds on a rotation,” Malik threw in. “Minimal contact, unless you ask otherwise.”

Somehow, they’d even thought about the details I wouldn’t have. How to be safe for me and them both. How to keep things clean. It was almost as if they… gave a shit? I couldn’t get my head around it.

“Thanks,” I said softly. “For not turning this into a freak show.”

Theo’s smile came back, this time a little more like himself. “Five Alphas and one Omega? Please. We were already living in the setup for a romance novel.”

I rolled my eyes. “Keep dreaming, chaos boy.”

“Every. Single. Night,” he fired back, and for a split second I let myself wonder if he meant it. Part of me almost hoped he did.

After that, it was back to game plans, schedules, logistics. On the surface, nothing had changed. But under everything, I knew they were watching, waiting, planning for the moment when I wasn’t myself anymore. I wished I could hate them for it. Instead, I was just… relieved.

Biology hadn’t ever asked permission. When the bottom fell out and my control shattered, the careful lines I’d drawn between teammate and friend or… more… were just going to be rubble. And I honestly didn’t know if I wanted to fight it as much as I should.

So, yeah. The heat was coming. I could feel it getting closer every hour. Five Alphas, one Omega, a house full of nerves and old trauma and more chemistry than was probably healthy for anyone. Maybe we’d survive it. Maybe we’d implode.