Page 89 of Heat Hesitation

"So fuckin' glad you're okay, kid. Holy shit that took ten years off my life." I kiss Cass's cheek, and he squeezes me in a hug.

"You're too pretty to die early," I tease.

"Ain't that the truth."

"Alright, we need to get you to the hospital." My mouth opens to argue, but Asher interjects, "No arguing."

"Ha! Good luck with that. This one's the Queen of Contrary." I smack Cass's shoulder but admit defeat. My foot does kinda hurt, and though it likely just needs cleaning and a bandaid, I want this night to be over, so I climb into the SUV. My alphas arrange with Dante Pack for what feels like visitation rights with me, but I ignore them all and fall asleep before we're even back on the road.

Chapter 35

Ophelia

Grouchy is a state of being. I bask in it. I roll around in all its glory. Buried four blankets deep, despite how hot I am—I'm protesting—I'm sticky with sugar from all the candy I've been snacking on—another protest—and I refuse to leave the theater room. I'm on strike from sleeping in my nest and it's making my omega even crankier.

I'm fine. Like I've tried to tell my alphas for the past week, I am fine.

I managed to kick the guys out of my hospital room so I could speak privately with the doctor. After he bandaged me up and cleaned my cuts, he assured me, as I already knew, that I'd be fine after a few days. Then we had a frank discussion about long-term heat suppression at my prompting.

It took me a while to accept that I was staying on the pills as a matter of principle, not because I didn't want to have a heat. Things were different before, working and supporting myself. I couldn't afford the time off, and I didn't have alphas see it through with me.

All that's changed.

So, I was excited to share the news with them. Though I'd been having spikes for weeks—part of what prompted me to talk to the doctor—and my actual heat would likely take two weeks or so to come on, I'd be in a state of low-grade fever and aching need leading up to it, so the next time I was deep in the throes of passion, I'd share the good news.

They cuddled with me. They hugged me, held me, and carried me, waiting on me hand and foot. But none of them would fuck me. There have been no deep throes of passion.

I get where they're coming from. After giving my statement to the police, starting from when Bridgette set me up to my jaunt through the woods, each of my four alphas shut down and hid inside himself, each carrying a portion of the blame for my abduction. It was infuriating. The burden wasn't theirs, but the bloody scratches on my arms and bandages on my feet and torn dress, along with their own healing bloody knuckles, meant they were going to treat me like fine spun glass for the foreseeable future.

No getting railed for this girl. It sucked.

I was relieved to hear all four Olcenes lived through the brutal beating from Asher, Theo, and Enzo, who came upon the empty cabin and three feral alphas fighting amongst themselves, trying to hold each other back from getting to me.

Bridgette was also being charged with abduction, though her parents would likely throw money at the problem and get her charges lessened, if not dropped entirely. Sully seemed to think he could keep that from happening, but only time would tell. Sully's pockets were deeper, but Bridgette's an omega who can turn on the tears for the camera, so we'll see.

I have more work to do with the OFA, and something Jackson said about using heat clinics stood out, but I need to rest and heal before I dig any further. For now, change is on the horizon, and though it sucked to be the poster child, Olcenes behavior helped our cause, pointing out how these wealthy alphas got away with so much for so long.

Physically, I felt fine—horny and achy and burning from the inside out, but fine. I was almost mad my heat hadn't come early after weaning off the pills just to teach my guys a lesson in neglecting me. That would be one hell of a surprise.

I'm too lucid, though, so I'm fully aware every time I walk into a room in nothing but a silk robe, and the guys give me a heated glance before turning and running into a different room like I'm a leper. I'm so mad I could scream.

Two nights ago, I couldn't take it anymore and started touching myself, and all four of them, who had been sleeping in the nest, afraid to be without me, listened in tense, heavy silence. They took turns excusing themselves after that, but I didn't feel the least bit bad about it.

So here I am, in a sorry state, covered in fluffy blankets, cotton pajamas, a half-empty bowl of sour rope candy and popcorn, with a bad horror movie on the TV. I told the guys to leave me alone, that they could share the nest without me.

Heavy steps descend the stairwell. I don't look up but can scent the cedar and sandalwood, making my omega nestle further into the covers. She's hurt they won't ravage her. Sully lifts an eyebrow, taking me in. He's wearing a tight Henley, showing off his massive chest, broad and sculpted. He could lift me with one arm, without effort, if he wanted to. But he hasn't even attempted to play with me in the bedroom. I throw a ripe candy at him and nestle deeper, unashamed that I've made a mini-nest down here with all their clothes I'd been stealing.

Without preamble he whips the covers off me. My mouth drops in outrage but he just smirks and steps back. "Get up, Omega."

He doesn't bark, but for some reason, I obey. With Sully, I always obey.

His eyes darken, smoldering, burning me hotter. My perfume blooms between us, but aside from his nostrils flaring, his face remains perfectly passive.

"Upstairs. Let's go."

I furrow my brow and cross my arms. He tilts his head, waiting for me to comply. Whatever. I huff and spin on my heel.

"Where are we going?" I snap.

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