Page 42 of Sweet Heat

What do I do?

All I know is that lying here won’t bring any answers. I might as well go find out what’s going on.

The muttering from the living room gets louder when I step off the landing, and a grouchy mood overtakes me. Although a part of me is concerned for my friends, since something is obviouslywrong to bring them home so early, a bigger part is so fucking mad.

My knot’s still half swollen from this morning, refusing to go down until I bury it deep inside Posie’s virgin pussy. It chafes against my athletic shorts. The thought of it locked deep inside her, milked as orgasm after orgasm ravages her body, nearly brings me back to full-mast, and I shift, trying to get it under control before seeing the younger Pack Moore.

“Miller?” Owen’s voice calls from the kitchen. With my nerves dancing a two-step, I walk into the room.

“Hey. Heard you guys come in. Jazzy didn’t go into heat?” It’s the obvious assumption, though it doesn’t make sense. Even if she didn’t, they could have still enjoyed the brief vacation and fucked her to their hearts’ content. If they’re seriously considering her for a pack omega, they might as well spend some time together in and out of the bedroom.

After all, not everyone gets lucky enough to find their scent match.

The coffee pot is calling my name, so I make a beeline toward it, grabbing a cup from the cupboard. I lived here for almost a year after my parents died, and nothing has changed places since then. Mama Rosa is fastidious about everything being in the right spots—it’s part of her omega nature.

I grin, excited to get a better glimpse into what makes Posie tick. Although I already know so much about her, living with someone day-to-day is different, and here, her omega instincts are more muted in deference to her mom.

The coffee sloshes as I pour the aromatic liquid into my mug, and the surrounding silence snaps me out of my musings.

“What’s going on?” I ask, taking a sip and letting my eyes dance between my closest friends. They glance awkwardly at one another as if unsure, and for the first time, I feel like an outsider. A cold sweat breaks out across my back, and my stomach clenches as I pretend to take an unbothered drink from the black tar in the mug.

Do they know already? Are there cameras in the house?

Fuckity fuck fuck. Dread spirals around me, but I grit my teeth, knowing I won’t give up, won’t leave Posie without a fight. There are three of them, but I’m scrappy. No matter what they do, she’s mine.

Mine to love. Mine to mate. Mine to keep—forever.

My muscles coil, ready for them to spring forward and attempt to pound me into dust, but instead, Crimson flops onto a chair dramatically.

“Jazzy turned out to be a big ol’ bitchhhhhhhhhh,” he complains, and all the wind blows out of my sails. Not that I don’t want them to know, but the timing needs to be right—Posie and I need to discuss it before—not sneak around like teenagers.

“Whatcha mean?” I ask, joining him at the table. Sliding onto the wooden seat, I pull my phone out of my pocket. I’ve been texting Posie since I left her room, but she still hasn’t answered—we’re gonna have a serious chat about that when I get her alone.

Me

It’s Owen, Crimson, and Damien. Apparently, Jazzy was shitty.

No bubble. No answer. But I leave it face up, anyway.

“She was in early heat when we got there,” Owen explains, slouching down with his cup. “And it all seemed fine… until Niko walked in.”

Frowning, I wait for more information. Niko isn’t the most social person, but he’s a good dude, so I don’t fully understand the issue. He tried out to play college ball with us but never excelled, so it wasn’t a surprise when he dropped athletics to focus on other ventures. The Alpha’s super smart and ended up creating a sneaker brand that sells the most comfortable damn shoes in the universe. He makes bank on them, probably more than any of us do as pro-baseball players.

“Then that freaking bitch started up with a whole world of drama,” Damien shares, his eyes flashing with fury. He’s the most coolheaded member of Pack Moore, so I already know it’s going to be bad. “She didn’t like the way he looked. She didn’t like the way he smiled. He wasn’t dominant enough. We could stay, but he had to go.”

“Which is ridiculous because she knows nothing about him,” Crimson chimes in. “If she did, she would know he’s the most dominant of all of us.”

My eyebrows raise. That’s news to me, but I’ve avoided learning too much about their pack dynamics or sexual proclivities.

“We weren’t going to stay if he couldn’t, so we all left,” Owen jumps in, his face red with anger. “Niko kept insisting we should, and that he was fine being left out. Kept saying the omega’s comfort is most important. But fuck if I’ll do that to my pack mate.”

“Of course you did. That’s bullshit,” I agree, with a grimace. Niko isn’t as muscular as the other guys, sporting more of a dad bod than a six-pack, but there’s nothing wrong with that.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Crimson growls, standing up to pace the floor while tugging at his hair. Of all of them, he’s probably closest to Niko. “And it’s the second damn time, too. I’m worried he’s going to leave the pack and go rogue.”

Holy shit. The idea of their pack breaking apart makes me squirm. I prefer being a lone Alpha. It’s in my DNA, but leaving a pack can seriously fuck an Alpha up; doing irreparable damage. My heart hurts for them, and I sense the desolation in the room.

“He probably just needs some space. And you need some better-quality omegas,” I say slowly, noting their slumped shoulders and sullen expressions. “Do your best to make sure he knows why he’s an important piece of your pack.”

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