Page 25 of Where There’s Smoke (Fire House Omegas #2)

Samson

S weet melon coated every surface in the room.

“Melody?” I called out her name, craning my neck so I could make her out in the nest. She was curled up in a small ball, clutching a pillow, wearing nothing but one of our T-shirts.

The air was thick with her scent. It was almost cloying, but I adored it. Had anything ever smelled that good? Sweet and sugary, yet also fresh and bright—it was the best thing my nose had ever encountered.

"I don’t feel so great," Melody admitted with a whine. She sat up, looking thoroughly rumpled as she glowered at me.

"What’s wrong?" I asked, taking a step deeper into the room. That might’ve been a mistake, because her scent only intensified. It was stronger than any other omega’s scent I had ever smelled.

I had good self-restraint. As someone practically addicted to the gym, I’d developed a self-discipline unlike any other over the years.

Melody Smoke was going to test that discipline.

As soon as that extra-potent, sweet, sex-drenched melon scent hit my nose, my mind went blank.

Mine.

The word became a mantra in my head. Despite being an alpha, I was usually relaxed and in control—but with her, with this scent, it was almost impossible. Every fiber of my being screamed that I needed to be near her. To taste her. To touch her.

To claim her.

"Melody, how do you feel?" Even though she’d said she wasn’t feeling great, I needed more details. If her scent was telling me what I thought it was, we were potentially in a lot of trouble.

"Alpha," she whined, holding out her hands in a grabby motion.

I was torn. Part of me wanted to step into her arms, stay near her, and breathe that scent in straight from the source. Another part of me wanted to stay back and retain at least part of my rational mind.

"You smell really strong, omega," I admitted, my voice slightly hoarse.

"I do feel a bit sweaty," she said, scrunching her nose. "But it’s more than that. I feel like my skin is itchy. It’s almost like when I needed to nest—but worse. I'm also having cramps. Really bad cramps," she whined, rubbing her stomach.

Fuck.

"I’ll be right back," I stammered, backing out of the room. Her eyes widened, panic flashing across her face as she whined desperately. I didn’t want to leave her. I needed to leave her.

Bursting into the kitchen, I was relieved to see it was only Fitz and Elliot sitting there, sharing a box of donuts.

"Hey, you want one?" Fitz asked, holding out a donut with a big grin, his face covered in sugar.

I shook my head, swallowing before speaking. "We may have an issue.”

Elliot stood, his expression going from amused to serious in an instant. "What’s wrong?"

"I think… well, you need to see for yourself.” Without another word, I turned and started making my way back toward Melody’s room.

"I’m the last person she’ll want to see," Elliot called out, but still, he followed me.

How wrong he was. Yes, Melody had slapped him—and rightfully so—but she probably wanted him more than anyone else in that moment.

As soon as we neared the door, Elliot seemed to register what was happening. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head as his nostrils flared, taking in the scent. "Shit. Is that…?"

I nodded. "She said she’s having cramps."

We were complete idiots. We’d been so focused on convincing Melody she was an omega that we hadn’t considered what would happen when she actually started acting like one.

"I want to go in there and help," I admitted, grimacing, "but I’m nervous to do it on my own because she smells so freaking good."

"That’s an understatement," Fitz muttered, his throat clearly tight. We were all hard as a rock.

"Where are the others?" I asked, referring to the rest of our crew.

"Out back, getting a few jobs done," Elliot said.

Thank god. I didn’t want them anywhere near here. Elliot might’ve been a cold bastard when it came to Melody, but he was just as obsessed with her as she was with him. If any other male even sniffed her while she was in heat, he’d go absolutely postal.

You know what they say: it's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

Elliot had spent so many years being calm and restrained that when he finally did lose his temper, it was going to be absolute carnage.

Preferably, I'd like that anger directed at someone who deserved it—not a member of our own team.

As a group, we entered the room, and Melody was rearranging one of the pillows.

"There you are," she sighed, rushing over and wrapping her arms around me. I couldn’t help but hug her back, resting my nose on her forehead and inhaling deeply. That sweet melon scent clung to her—both relaxing and invigorating.

"You’re really warm," I told her. "I think you need a shower."

It was a cop-out, but I needed her to cool down while we figured out what the hell to do.

"I don’t need a shower." She pouted. "I just want to cuddle."

Fuck . The desperation in her voice nearly brought me to my knees.

She was getting more and more worked up, rubbing against me, her hands starting to wander. She probably didn’t even realize what was happening—it was such a foreign experience for her.

"Melody," I said firmly, pulling back and holding her upper arms, forcing her to look me in the eye. "You’re going into heat."

I expected anger or fear. I didn't expect her to snort and say, "Yeah, right."

When none of us laughed, her eyes widened.

"Oh, shoot. You’re serious," she whispered.

I nodded. "Your scent is so freaking strong right now, and it’s not easy for us to contain ourselves. So, we’re going to get you in an ice-cold shower, and then we’re calling a doctor to talk about suppressants."

"That is, if that’s what you want," Fitz added. "I know this is all sudden and you haven’t had a lot of time to think about it, but do you want to suppress your heat—or let it happen naturally?"

"What are my options?" she asked.

Well, this was going to be a fun conversation.

"We’re happy to help you through your heat," Fitz said, "but we’re also happy to find a doctor to get you some suppressants. Or, if you want to ride it out solo, we’ll do everything we can to barricade you in this room and make sure you have peace and quiet."

"It hurts," she whined, rubbing her stomach again.

"I know it does. We’ll cool you down a bit, and then you can make a decision."

"Maybe while I’m in the shower, one of you could call a doctor?" she asked. "I think I do want to try suppressants."

I jerked my head in agreement. "If that’s what you want, then we’ll make it happen."

"I don’t think I can stand on my own," she admitted. "My legs feel really shaky. Do you think you can maybe help me through the first wave? Just so this pain subsides a little?"

"We’ll happily help," I said, smiling briefly at Fitz, though it probably didn’t reach my eyes. I was too busy trying not to focus on how incredible she smelled.

“What should I do?” Elliot asked as he hovered in the doorway.

Fitz took the omega out of my arms and started guiding her toward the shower.

I turned fully toward Elliot. “Can you do us a favor and call the doc to get her suppressants while we get her in the shower to cool her off?”

My pack mate’s face was the picture of shock, and I was pretty sure his brain stopped working momentarily as the scent hit him full force.

“Elliot?”

“Yeah… on it,” he said quickly, before darting away like his pants were on fire.

I almost chuckled, but I had more pressing matters to deal with, namely a very turned-on omega.