The warmth spreads, slow and insidious, seeping into my limbs like molten honey. My skin prickles, too sensitive, every brush of the couch against me like a whisper that leaves me trembling.
I shift again, curling my legs beneath me, trying to find some position—any position—that will ease the ache blooming in my belly. It pulses, rhythmic and deep, radiating outward as it coils tighter and tighter until my breath catches in my throat.
And then it hits me, sharp and undeniable:pre-heat.
The word drops into my mind like a stone into water, sending ripples of panic and shame through me. Another wave? So soon? My first instinct is to go to Finn, to climb the stairs and wake him,but the image of him asleep earlier stops me cold. He looked so exhausted, his body slack with the kind of sleep that comes only after days of strain. I can’t disturb him—not for this.
I gulp hard, my gaze flicking around the room.
I can deal with it. Just for now. Other omegas manage. Why can’t I?
I square my shoulders and sink back against the couch, closing my eyes as I focus on my breathing.In…out…steady. Stay calm.
It doesn’t help.
The warmth intensifies, spreading like wildfire beneath my skin. My palms grow damp, my heart pounding erratically, and every shallow breath feeds the heat instead of quelling it.
One particularly hard pulse hits, and with it comes a flash of memory—Stone’s low voice saying,“Good”and then the sensation of Jax’s fingers brushing my nape follows. The heat of his fingers. The gentleness of his touch against my scalp.
“Oh.” My thighs press together, the ache between them sharpening into something unbearable. I dig my nails into the couch, trying to ground myself, trying to think ofanything else,but my body isn’t listening. It craves something I don’t want to admit.
For a few moments, I manage—pressing my thighs together, forcing myself to breathe. At one point, I even think I’m winning.
Wrong.
A particularly strong throb almost makes me whimper out loud, shattering my fragile control. My gaze drifts to the armchair where Jax had sat earlier, the blanket he’d used still draped over the edge. The sight of it sends a jolt through me, and before I can stop myself, I reach for it.
The moment my fingers crush the fabric to my nose, his scent overwhelms me.
Cedar. Warm and earthy, with a faint edge of something sharper. My stomach clenches as I realize what that sharper note is: his arousal. It clings to the blanket like it’s embedded in the fibers, wrapping around me the moment I inhale deeply.
A wave of heat crashes over me, so strong my core clenches hard on nothing. Comfort? Longing? Desire? I can’t tell anymore. All I know is that something inside me cracks open, the fire in my chest flaring out of control.
It’s too much. Too strong.
A whimper builds in my throat, muffled against the blanket. My fingers tighten in the fabric, clutching it like a lifeline as my body trembles.
The ache in my belly deepens like a knot pulling tighter and tighter with every passing second. I press my thighs together harder, but the friction is fleeting, useless. It only makes the need worse.
Everything feels magnified: the soft texture of the blanket against my fingertips, the faint hum of the TV in the background, the way my pulse pounds in my ears—it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.
My breath quickens as I fight for control, but my body screams for something I can’t give it.
The scent of Jax is everywhere now, wrapping around me like a cocoon, and I can’t stop the way my body reacts to it. My hips shift slightly, almost involuntarily, and the motion sends a rush of heat straight to the aching pulse between my legs.
I squeeze my eyes shut, biting down hard on my lip to stifle the soft moan threatening to spill out. The sting of my teeth grounds me, but only briefly. The heat surges again, drowning out everything else.
This isn’t helping.
But I can’t bring myself to let go of the blanket.
My fingers tighten in the fabric, desperate for relief, but every breath feeds the fire. Every shift of my hips stokes the flames.
I’m unraveling, piece by piece, the heat relentless as it curls through me like smoke. Shame presses against my chest, but it’s drowned out by the ache radiating from my core.
The thought of going to Finn crosses my mind again, but Ishove it aside. He’s done so much already. I can’t keep leaning on him every time I fall apart.
But what else can I do?