Rhys nods slowly.
I turn back to Lila, her eyes glassy. My chest tightens.
“You’re not alone,” I murmur. “We’ll make sure everything’s perfect for you. All you have to do is tell us what you need.”
She gives a shaky nod, curling tighter into the mound of our clothes. My scent. Rhys’. Corwyn’s.
She chose us.
And we’ll make damn sure she gets through this with care, gentleness, and every ounce of respect she deserves.
My alpha instincts roar, but my love for her—my reverence—grounds me.
This is her choice.
And I’ll make sure she has the safety and comfort to make it.
Chapter forty-four
Lila
This is more than I expected.
My whole body feels like it’s rebelling.
It started slow—tightness behind my eyes, a dull ache at the base of my spine, a pulse deep in my belly. But now it’s fire. Heat blooming under my skin, curling in waves through my limbs, coiling low and heavy and hungry.
I’m wrapped in the scent of them—Tyler, Corwyn, Rhys. It’s all over me, all around me. Their worn sweaters, the fabric of their shirts, the familiar musk of the three of them soaked into the clothes I clung to in desperation when the storm inside me began.
But it's Rhys who holds me now.
He came when I whispered his name. Sat down and pulled me into his lap like I belonged there, like I was something he was born to hold.
His arms are strong around me, one hand stroking slowly down my spine. His fingers are warm and callused, steady in a way that lets me anchor to him. He murmurs soft things—nonsense, reassurance, warmth. His scent is grounding. Earthyand rich and warm. He smells like forests after the rain, fresh bread, and something faintly wild. It wraps around me and I breathe, finally. My body shudders against his, and I can’t tell if it’s fear or relief.
It’s Rhys who smells most like home.
Not just safety—but belonging. Memory. Rootedness. His presence is like a hand to the small of my back, guiding me gently through the storm.
“Too much?” he asks, brushing hair from my cheek.
I try to laugh but it’s a broken thing. “All of it is too much.”
His voice rumbles against my back. “Never been through a full one before?”
I shake my head slowly. “Suppressants. Always. I’ve never… never let it happen.”
Rhys is quiet for a moment, just stroking my back, steady and calm. “It’s okay to be scared,” he says. “It’s overwhelming. First heats usually are.”
“I feel like I’m unraveling,” I whisper. “Like my body isn’t mine anymore.”
His arms tighten slightly, protective. “You’re not alone. You won’t be alone. We’re here.”
My body pulses, a slick ache between my thighs. Every part of me feels hypersensitive. The fabric of my leggings is unbearable. The brush of my own hair against my skin makes me gasp. I press my face into Rhys’ shoulder and shudder again.
“I’m sorry,” I say into his neck, mortified. “I can’t stop it. I can’t—”
“Hey,” he murmurs. “Stop apologizing. This is natural. You’re not doing anything wrong.”