Page 41 of Stream Heat (Omega Stream #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Kara

The stress of public exposure hit me like a freight train, straight to the nervous system, primal and hard.

I jolted awake sticky with sweat, skin glued to the sheets like shrink-wrap.

The ache started low in my gut, a slow burn radiating outward until every nerve was raw and itching for relief.

My heart thrashed against my ribs, each pulse a fresh burst of heat, a warning I recognized too well.

Not already. Not this soon.

It hadn’t even been two weeks since my heat.

Dr. Patel had tried to warn me that stress could fuck up my cycle, make everything unpredictable, but I hadn’t expected it to be so fast to act.

The emotional whiplash of outing myself so publicly wasn’t just in my head, it had tripped something in my body too.

My system, barely stabilized after being off suppressants, just couldn’t handle the pressure.

I tried to slow my breathing, force my body back into line.

Malik’s techniques, all that meditation and grounding, except my body had its own agenda now.

Years of forced suppression gone, and suddenly my hindbrain was dialed in to every Alpha scent in my space.

Five distinct notes and I could name them all if I wanted. Mine, every one of them.

Not now. Not again.

I hauled myself upright, ignoring the dizzy spell that threatened to send me sprawling.

The last heat had been a disaster. Five Alphas, me shamelessly begging for anything that would make it stop, even just touch, even if it hurt.

They’d all refused, somehow, too noble for their own good, and instead brought blankets, pain meds, straws for water.

I’d driven them out eventually, choosing isolation over the humiliation of wanting what I shouldn’t.

This time I was locking the door and riding it out solo. No more begging, no more weakness on display.

The bathroom wasn’t far, but every step felt like a challenge.

I cranked the shower to its coldest and let it pummel me, shattering the heat for a minute or two before the fire burned through the relief.

Nothing external touched what was happening inside.

I stared at my reflection, face flushed, pupils wide, the hunger in my eyes impossible to miss. I was alien to myself like this.

“You don’t need them,” I told my reflection, voice wrecked and low, but we both knew it was a lie.

I could feel the pack bonds thrumming, every inch of me tuned to them.

Reid’s undeniable command, Theo’s ridiculous energy, Jace’s watchfulness, Ash’s silent steadiness, Malik’s cool calm.

All of them, right here, just beyond the walls.

Each one could make this stop.

Except every single one of them had promised not to touch me unless I asked, and unless I was clear-headed when I asked.

I wrapped up in a towel, a sorry defense against the next wave tearing through me. Stronger this time, and I had to bite back the sound that tried to escape.

Just get back to the room. Lock the door. Run out the clock.

I reached for the bathroom door but didn’t get the chance to open it. It swung in toward me, too sudden, and there was Reid, messy hair, sweatpants hanging low. The shock of his scent, clean, stormy, anchoring and heavy as brick. I nearly dropped to the floor.

“Kara,” he said, name a gentle question and a command all at once. His eyes flickered, pupils going wide when he caught my scent, but the man was a steel trap; he didn’t move toward me, didn’t crowd me. “I felt something through the bond. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I lied, yanking the towel tighter. Could barely keep the words together and had to lock my knees to prevent myself from falling to the floor. “Just… couldn’t sleep.”

He didn’t bother hiding his skepticism. “Your heat’s back. Early.”

It wasn’t even a question. He could see it on me, feel it radiating through the air.

“I’ve got it,” I insisted, fighting to step past him. “I’ll handle it. Like last time.”

He didn’t flinch, but his voice cut lower, sharp enough to leave a mark. “You mean, when you isolated yourself for days. When you refused water and ended up nearly needing medical attention. When you suffered so much you wouldn’t let anyone in because you thought being strong meant being alone?”

Ouch.

I shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “I made it, didn’t I?”

“Surviving is the lowest bar, Kara.” He moved aside, letting me pass, and the simple gesture nearly undid me. “At least let me get you set up. Water, electrolytes, proper nest. Then I’ll leave if that’s what you want.”

It was almost impossible to be mad at that kind of logic. My anger felt stupid and brittle. I nodded, head down, and walked past him all the way to my room. His scent stuck to me, an invisible hand on every inch of exposed skin.

Inside, another wave gutted me. I grabbed the desk for balance, couldn’t bite back the sound this time. A whine of need and my scent exploding around me now that Reid was close.

“Kara,” Reid called from the doorway, still not coming in. “Tell me what you need.”

What I needed was so obvious it physically hurt. I needed him. All of them, if I was being honest, which I hated. The emptiness inside me was wild and biting. Every cell desperate for what only they could give.

But I wasn’t going to say that. Not ever. “Just water,” I said. “And privacy.”

He nodded, left for a second, came back with water and electrolytes. Set them quietly next to my bed, but didn’t leave, didn’t walk away. I could feel his need to help fighting with his promise not to cross lines.

“The pack bonds make this worse, you know,” he said, voice low. “Your system expects relief because of our proximity.”

“I know,” I snapped, another wave making my hands spasm on the desk. “Can’t change it.”

“There are options.” He kept it even. “Non-sexual comfort. Scenting. Physical touch, if you want it.”

“I remember from last time. Didn’t want it then, don’t want it now,” I shot back, voice like a whip. It wasn’t that I didn’t want it, but that I knew I’d want too much. Just scenting and physical touch wouldn’t cut it, not really.

He just looked at me, calm as stone. “Your pride isn’t worth your pain, Kara.”

That line cracked me open. Every coping mechanism I’d ever built was made of pride, protecting me from the world and from them. But in that moment, alone with someone who wasn’t trying to strip it away, it felt like armor that was starting to suffocate me.

“I’m scared,” I admitted, almost not recognizing the sound of my own voice.

He didn’t step closer, not yet. “Of what?”

I didn’t answer. The next wave hammered in, and I made a noise that embarrassed me, shut my eyes tight against it.

“Designation doesn’t erase all the things you are,” Reid said. “It’s just one part of it. I see you. We all do.”

A tear slipped out, which pissed me off, but there was nothing I could do about it. “I hate this,” I said through clenched teeth. “I hate not being able to control it.”

He finally stepped in, not touching but close enough for me to sense the offer in the air. “You don’t have to do this alone. There are ways to get through it without losing yourself. If you want support, all you have to do is say so.”

The next wave nearly buckled my knees. He caught me before I fell, big hands so gentle I almost didn’t feel them at first, except his scent hit me right in the chest.

“Alpha,” I gasped, and immediately wanted to bite my own tongue off for saying it out loud.

He tightened his grip gently, voice careful and steady. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

I didn’t try to move. I didn’t want to. I clung to his arms, needing the anchor. “Stay,” I whispered, because pride only gets you so far.

He didn’t move. “Are you sure? Is this what you want, or is it just what the heat is telling you?”

And I was still myself enough to answer honestly. “Yes, I’m sure. I trust you. I’m just tired, Reid. I’m tired of fighting it alone.”

He nodded, and something subtle in him shifted. “Okay. But we set boundaries. What are you comfortable with?”

I expected him to just take over once I asked, but he waited. He really waited, and I had to decide, not the heat, not instinct.

“I need… scent. Touch. Proximity. But not… I’m not ready for anything more,” I said, words coming out ragged.

He understood immediately. “Comfort. No sexual contact. No claiming. Just support.”

“Yes,” I said, tension leaving my shoulders all in one go.

He sat down by me, not crowding, just present. “May I scent you? It helps.”

At the next tide of heat, I managed a “Please.”

He leaned in, slow, and brought his face to my neck and shoulder, breathing me in. At the first contact, I nearly jolted off the bed. Scent flooded my head and body, soothing and stoking the need at the same time, but making it bearable. The bond hummed, recognition settling into my bones.

“Better?” he murmured.

I swallowed. “A lot, actually. How do you know all this?”

He shrugged, a little smile on his lips. “Pack bonds aren’t just instinct. There are real biochemical triggers. Scenting regulates what you’re feeling.”

“You’ve been researching.”

He nodded, matter-of-fact. “All of us have. You think we’d just let you suffer if we could do better?”

The idea of them all studying Omega heat for my sake made something weirdly tender twist inside me.

Still, the next wave wasn’t pain, it was more like pleasure, or at least relief. I arched into it before I could catch myself.

“Why does it feel different this time?” I wondered, the words barely a whisper.

He kept stroking my back, firm and warm. “Because I’m here. Because you’re not alone. The bond expects support. When you get it, your body calms down.”

“It still wants…” I cut off, mortified, but he finished it for me.

“I know. But you set the boundary, and I’ll keep to it. Always.”

His own hands were shaking a little, I realized. He was affected, too, his scent deeper, needier, but he was holding it together.