Page 21 of Heat Hesitation

Ophelia was unlike anything I knew about omegas. They were hardwired to want their alpha to take care of them, or so I thought, but she seemed almost reluctant and uncomfortable. This made my alpha edgy, wanting to fix whatever the problem was, whatever pain plagued her heart.

I want to fix whatever drove her up to that bridge last year, a subject we haven't yet broached.

I'm a little surprised to find Enzo waiting for us at the entrance of her building and even more surprised at the smile she gives him.

Most people recoil from Enzo, omegas especially. There's something off-putting about his personality that the average person can't quite put their finger on but feels nonetheless. He's my brother, and I find his idiosyncrasies endearing, even if I know he's more taciturn than tender. But I love him, and to see our mate smile at him—if I had no other evidence that she was ours, this would prove it.

He's already obsessed with her, but she has no idea what that means for her. He'll creep into her life, fitting into the smallest nook, and when he's burrowed so far deep beneath her skin, only then will she realize it's too late to get rid of him, that he's become a part of her.

That's only good for me and my brothers because whatever made her stay away for a year—and there's no way she didn't know who I was because the Arrow Cove Daily Rag covered the story of me searching the river desperately for the fallen omega for months—and whatever put those sad tears in her eyes and drove her up to that bridge that's making her keep her distance—as long as we have Enzo on our side, she won't be able to dismiss us again.

I don't know why she's mad at me right now when she was so warm and happy to see me initially, but I let her feel whatever she needs. I'm too fucking happy to know she's here. That she's alive and well, and I didn't conjure her up. I didn't dream her.

Theo will take the longest to forgive her. Typically the most easygoing of us four, last night, he dismissed her as being another spoiled omega for bailing on her scent-match so effortlessly. Sully tried to point out how inherently wrong that was and that something else must have happened, but he ignored us and left the house. I'm pretty sure he went out partying late last night, even after we got home from meeting her and sparred in the gym. I can only hope he didn't do something stupid.

Theo will come around.

And so will Ophelia.

"You're so little," I smile down at her as she passes Enzo, leading the way up to her apartment. Sully's the tallest, followed by Theo and me, with Enzo the shortest, still coming in nearly a foot taller than our soft little omega.

She growls, and I'm pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate it if I commented on how adorable her snarl is, either.

I watch her round ass shake as she scurries up the stairs. Enzo does the same, and it's so fascinating considering how little attention he's ever paid to women, or anyone at all, before now.

I do my best to ignore our surroundings, having already prepared myself for the absolute shit box she lives in based on Sully's warnings. She pulls a key out of her backpack and swings the door open.

We follow her in, and she ignores us as she drops her things, working her way through her tiny apartment, grabbing a change of clothes out of her bedroom, and shutting herself away in the bathroom. Enzo pokes around her space, touching everything, cataloging all he can to learn about her likes and dislikes.

We don't talk while the shower runs; instead we wait patiently for her to finish, to deign us worthy of conversation. It's such a trip and so different from how everyone else treats us.

Sully's right. She's perfect. We'll never be bored with Ophelia.

I fiddle with a drawer knob beneath her coffee table, tugging it open, taking the hint from Enzo that the more we can learn about her, the quicker we can convince her to come home with us.

Newspaper and magazine clippings catch my eye. Curious, I pull them out of the drawer and spread them out on the table.

"Fuck," I groan when I read the headlines.

Enzo comes over and sits beside me, looking at all the pages. "Hmm. This explains some things."

All clippings from the Daily Rag and some other magazines, all in the last year. Almost every one is a picture of one of us with a woman on our arm. One piece, particularly worn by fingerprints, was dated only a week after I lost her last year. It was an old photo, but they reprinted it to stir up drama between us and the Rafferty pack, who went to the Rag and leaked that we had a conversation with their daughter at last year's OFA gala. As if one single conversation meant we were courting the girl.

It's untrue; we weren't interested, but this makes it look like we were out courting and dating even after she and I met. I hope she knows it's bullshit; I mean, they were simultaneously printing stories about me wading the river, searching for the lost omega.

I don't notice she's joined us until her scent hits me, her soft lavender blending with the remnants of the sweet scent-block still wearing off.

She purses her lips, red coloring her cheeks, as though she's embarrassed to have been caught showing interest in us, given the pictures we spread out on her coffee table.

"It's not true," Enzo says pointedly. He holds up the worn page from nearly a year ago. "None of this is true. They use old pictures, trying to drum up drama and intrigue. Asher took a month off from work, leaving the river only to sleep, eat and shit. He searched for you relentlessly, even at the expense of his and our pack's health."

I tense beneath her gaze; her lips part. Well, I wasn't planning on telling her all that, so I'll be sure to thank Enzo later, in the gym, with a proper fucking beating.

She takes a deep breath, cheeks still colored, and stomps toward us. Her legs are bare, sleep shorts so short they're hidden beneath the t-shirt, which is nearly translucent now from the long strands of her wet, wavy, dark hair. Ophelia's hips and thighs are thick and round, mesmerizing when she moves. They're all I can think about. How they'd feel wrapped around my low back while I fucked her. Wrapped around my head while I tasted her. Her generous ass shaking while I squeezed it and pounded into her from behind. Her shape is entrancing. I watch everything move and shake as she stomps around the apartment.

I was too dumbfounded last night to appreciate her form, but right now, her nipples are hard, her skin is flushed, and her scent is blooming around us.

But she shows no indication she's interested, quickly gathering the pages, heading into the kitchen, and shoving the news clippings into the trash.

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