Page 29 of Stream Heat (Omega Stream #1)

"Thirty seconds," Ash called, starting the final count.

Theo couldn’t sit still, he never could, but now I could tell he was deliberately holding himself back, out of some weird attempt to make things easier on me. Jace shifted next to me, careful and gentle, letting his scent wrap around my fraying nerves like a wet blanket. I was absurdly grateful.

"Ten seconds," Ash said. "Five, four, three..."

The stream jingle played, and just like that, we were live, six faces on screen, six stories, thousands of people already tuning in. Maybe this would be the day that finished breaking my career. Or maybe the viewers would love blood in the water.

"Welcome to the Pack Wrecked tournament qualifier stream!" Reid’s voice was perfect, total pro, not a hint that anything behind the scenes was even a little off. "Today we've got the full squad ready to dominate these lobbies."

"Some more ready than others," I fired back automatically, even though it sounded kind of weak. "I’ve been carrying these knot-heads through practice all week."

Banter, jokes, loading into the first match.

The chat was already scrolling so quickly it was impossible to keep up.

For the first stretch I actually pulled off a decent act, gameplay wasn’t my best, mind was fogged, but it didn’t matter.

The others were good enough to cover and nobody in chat was the wiser.

And then I lost it.

A full-body, worse-than-before wave of heat crashed through with zero warning. I gasped and it was not only audible but mortifying. Between my legs, slick flooded, impossible to ignore. My arousal scent spiked instantly, claiming every inch of the room, Alpha instincts pinging off the walls.

Five sets of hands froze. Alphas are never subtle, Reid’s grip on his controller went white-knuckled and the plastic creaked under the strain.

Theo stared straight ahead, statue-still.

Jace’s breath caught and held. Malik actually blinked, like it shocked him.

Ash whipped his head up, eyes locked on me with something that looked like panic.

I tried so hard to act normal. Hands shaking, eyes stinging, the ache inside so strong it almost made me forget I was on camera. I couldn’t hold the controller. Couldn’t even pretend.

"Quinn?" Reid’s voice broke the silence, so low and intimate I nearly lost it right there. "You okay?"

"Fine," I said, or tried to. It came out as a strangled, desperate gasp. "Just, uh, give me a second."

Chat picked up on it immediately.

is Quinn ok??

she looks like she's about to pass out

OMG IS IT HAPPENING AGAIN

alpha squad looking TENSE

I couldn’t focus. Not with what was happening to me.

I told myself to play through it, forced my attention on the game, but then another wave hit, harder than before, making my teeth sink into my lip to stifle the moan clawing its way out.

My hands started to tremble, and my vision went fuzzy at the edges.

I couldn’t even see the damn screen anymore.

“I can’t–” I whispered, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. “I can’t do this.”

Jace didn’t hesitate. He reached over, took my controller, and picked up my gameplay like nothing weird was happening at all. Malik shifted a little closer to my side, his clean, ozone scent cutting through the static panic in my veins, but it wasn’t enough. It was just not enough.

“Technical timeout, everyone,” Reid said in that perfectly calm streamer voice he did so well. “Quick break while we adjust some settings.”

But the camera definitely caught it. All of it. My face totally flushed. My hands shaking. The split second when every Alpha in the room stiffened at once, as if I’d set off some kind of biological alarm. The chat was already blowing up.

ANOTHER HEAT CRASH

holy shit did you see how they all reacted

PROTECTIVE ALPHA MODE ACTIVATED

someone clip this omg

I could feel myself spiraling. The humiliation mixed with the panic, which mixed with the need, and suddenly it was impossible to keep all the pieces of myself together. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not another public crash, not when thousands of people were watching.

“Ash,” Reid’s voice sliced through everything else, all Alpha command, no room for argument. “Kill the stream. Now.”

Ash’s fingers were already flying on his keyboard, but before he could cut the broadcast, another wave crashed over me, more intense than anything yet.

This time, the sound that escaped me was a whimper, desperate and high-pitched, the kind of noise that only came out of an Omega in full-blown heat, the kind that broadcast to everyone in a ten-mile radius that an Alpha was needed.

The effect on the five of them was immediate and almost violent.

They moved at once, forming a wall around me that blocked the cameras, just in case.

Reid stepped right in front of me, his broad back absorbing the main shot.

Theo and Malik flanked him, sealing off the view with Alpha bodies.

Jace pressed close to my right, near enough to shield but never touching.

Ash was a blur of motion, terminating the broadcast while watching me like he expected me to fall apart at any second.

“Stream’s down,” Ash said, voice clipped, as the red recording lights died.

The second that happened, my body just…folded. I slumped forward, forehead pressed to the tabletop, trying to cool my skin against the fake wood laminate. “I’m sorry,” I breathed, heat and humiliation crawling through me like a fever. “I thought I could…I thought the suppressants would–”

“Don’t apologize,” Reid interrupted, the Alpha edge softer now but still impossible to ignore. “You’re sick. This isn’t your fault.”

“We need to get her to her room,” Malik said, quiet but steady. “This heat is ramping up too fast.”

If I had any coherent thoughts left, I would’ve protested. Claimed I could walk. Said I didn’t need help. But another contraction of need hit and my spine bowed, my body desperate for anything that would fill the emptiness pulsing between my thighs.

“Please,” I whispered, not even sure what I wanted, distance, touch, both? Just anything other than this raw, gutting ache.

They didn’t need to discuss it. Reid moved, gathering me up and out of the chair like I weighed nothing. His scent was everywhere, dark and grounding, and the second his chest pressed against my side, another rush of slick heat flooded between my legs.

“Alpha,” I breathed, as if it were the only word left in my vocabulary. My hands knotted in his shirt, needing more, wanting everything, shame and instinct fighting for control in my head.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his jaw tight. Holding himself together just as much as he was holding on to me. “We’re going to help you, Kara. Just hold on.”

I barely registered the trip to my room. There was just the pulse of his body and the presence of the others behind us, their scents weaving in and out, comforting and making everything worse at the same time. Each step was a shockwave.

Reid set me on the bed. The second he let go, I curled around his hoodie. I didn’t even remember grabbing it, but it was the only thing anchoring me. I buried my face in the fabric, trying to breathe him in, desperate for anything that dulled the need.

“What do you need?” Malik asked, not coming closer, but his concern was so thick I could taste it. “Water? Medication?”

What I needed was so much bigger than that, so much uglier.

I needed a knot. I needed all of them, taking turns, filling the emptiness until I could breathe again.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut, shattering what little pride I had left.

I squirmed, hips grinding into the mattress, fighting to find relief that wasn’t there.

“Please,” I gasped, way past shame, too far gone to act normal. “It hurts. Make it stop.”

The five of them exchanged a look. There was a moment of tense, silent communication. Every one of them was strung tight, torn between instinct and what their brains knew was right.

“Quinn,” Reid said, dropping his voice into that Alpha tone that went all the way down, “we need your clear consent. What exactly are you asking for?”

The question cut through the need, forced me to think for a heartbeat. What was I asking for? For all of them to fuck me through the heat? To make the pack bonds Dr. Levine talked about? To cross a line none of us could uncross?

Before I could answer, another wave ripped through me, so overwhelming that tears ran down my cheeks. “Fuck me,” I begged, voice shaking. “Please, Alpha. Any of you. All of you. I need–I need–”

I couldn’t finish the sentence. I just moaned, back arching, desperate for even a scrap of contact.

I saw the war in their faces. Instinct and want and ethics all tearing at each other. None of them were mindless, rut-drunk assholes; they were trying so hard to do things the right way, even as their biology practically screamed at them to claim me.

“We can’t,” Malik said, as gently as he could, but the effort in his voice was obvious. “Not like this. Not when you’re not in your right mind.”

“I know what I’m asking,” I bit back, furious that they wouldn’t just do what I needed. “I’m not fragile. I want this. I want you.”

“And we want you,” Reid said, rough and raw, holding back everything he could. “But not this way. Not when you’re crashed out in heat. You can’t truly consent.”

The rage almost drowned out the heat, and for a second I could breathe through it. “So you’ll just leave me? Leave me like this?”

Jace answered, quiet but impossible to ignore. “We’ll help you through it. Just not…that way.”

“There’s other stuff we can do,” Theo said, all seriousness, none of his usual jokes. “Scent support. Sleeping close. Comfort without full contact.”

“We planned for this,” Ash added, arms folded, jaw ticking. “Protocols and safety checks. You call the shots. Whatever you want.”

It was hard to see through the tears and the haze of need. They could all see what was happening to me, smell the slick soaking through my shorts, but somehow they were still standing there, honoring what I wanted instead of what they wanted. Instead of what I needed.

It made me want to scream.

“Get out,” I said, voice small and shaking. “All of you. Just…go.”

They hesitated. Of course they did. Even then, they didn’t want to leave me alone.

“Kara…” Reid started.

“GET OUT!” I screamed, ragged and broken. “I don’t need your pity or your noble restraint. Leave me alone.”

There was a beat of silence, then Malik nodded. “We’ll be right outside. Water and electrolytes on the nightstand. The lock’s set so you’re secure.”

They filed out one after another, glancing back like I was the most pitiful thing they’d ever seen. The second the door clicked shut, I folded in on myself, crying so hard I could barely breathe. I clung to Reid’s hoodie, as if the fabric might somehow make any of this better.

But the ache between my legs wouldn’t go away. It just kept getting worse, sharper, hungrier, until I couldn’t think of anything else. I shoved my hand down, searching for relief, knowing it’d barely help but needing something, anything, to take the edge off.

I was drenched, slick everywhere, fingers slipping through it as I mentally called up all five of them: their scents, their bodies, every hungry look they’d ever given me. I imagined them crowding around, fighting over who got to fill me next.

Reid would take it slow, keeping me grounded even as I lost control.

Theo would match my pace, wild and relentless.

Jace would barely speak, just grip my hips and push me exactly where I needed.

Ash would be clinical, precise, making every movement count.

Malik would stay steady, always careful not to overwhelm me until I begged for it.

The fantasy was so real it hurt. I came hard, sharp and ugly, but it was barely anything, not even a drop in the ocean compared to what my body demanded. Self-pleasure during heat was a joke. It was like dumping a cup of water on a wildfire.

When it was over, humiliation poured in to replace the heat. I had begged. I pleaded for them to fuck me. Made a mess of my chair, probably ruined my dignity forever. And they had turned me down.

Not because they didn’t want me, I saw it in their faces, in the way they physically restrained themselves, but because they respected me enough not to take advantage.

It was the kindest rejection I’d ever gotten, and somehow that made it hurt worse.

I buried my face in the hoodie and cried, a raw, ugly sound, knowing I had days of this ahead.

Dr. Patel had said it could last up to a week, easy.

A week of torture, need, shame. And when it was over I’d have to look them in the eye, pretending I didn’t remember how I nearly lost my mind in front of them, how badly I wanted it.

That was almost worse than the heat itself.

I could hear them outside my door, voices low and steady, organizing a rotation and hydration schedule and probably a dozen other contingency plans. Even then, their thoughtfulness stung. It just highlighted the difference: my messy, desperate biology, and their relentless self-control.

I’d spent eight years trying to prove I was more than my instincts. More than an Omega. Now thirty minutes of a heat-induced trainwreck had stripped it all away and left nothing but need.

The shame was brutal. But not as brutal as the heat.

Not even close, because when the next wave came, and it always did, I started to whimper, a tiny, helpless sound, and I knew right then that if any of them came back in, I’d do it all over again. And hate myself for it in the morning.