Page 34 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
I’d been thinking about the conversation at The Tumble Mug all morning, the way we’d all awkwardly acknowledged our interest in Willa and agreed to let her choose her own path. The idea of pack dynamics with Rhett and Wes felt both terrifying and right in a way I hadn’t expected. But I also knew how carefully Willa guarded her vulnerability, how she’d been hurt badly enough to move halfway across the country. Whatever we were hoping might develop between us, she’d need time andspace to even consider the possibility of trusting one alpha, let alone three.
Now she was having a medical crisis, and every protective instinct I possessed was screaming at me to help.
I quickly assembled my emergency omega wellness kit. Scent-neutralizing cloths, calming herb blends, emergency comfort supplies. Nothing invasive or presumptuous, just the basics for helping someone get through acute suppressant withdrawal symptoms.
The drive to Magnolia Crescent took less than five minutes, but it felt like forever. Suppressant failure could be dangerous if not properly managed, and the thought of Willa suffering through it alone made my alpha instincts burn with the need to provide care and comfort.
Wes’s truck was parked outside the house when I arrived. Even from the street, I could catch traces of destabilized omega scent drifting through the air. Jasmine and summer rain, but wrong somehow. Unregulated and distressed.
Willa was going to need more support than she realized so I grabbed my kit from the passenger seat and quickly headed to the house.
I knocked softly on the front door, not wanting to startle her in her current state. Wes opened it within seconds, his expression tight with concern.
“How is she?” I asked quietly.
“Shaky, dizzy, scent completely destabilized. She’s trying to pretend it’s not as bad as it obviously is.” Wes stepped back to let me in. “I think she’s scared.”
The small living room smelled strongly of omega distress, the jasmine-rain signature I’d come to associate with Willa now sharp with anxiety and hormonal chaos. She was curled on the couch, wrapped in what looked like every blanket she owned, her face pale and her hands visibly trembling.
“Willa?” I said softly, settling into the chair across from her couch. “I’m here to help. How are you feeling?”
She looked up at me with eyes that were slightly glassy from whatever biochemical chaos was happening in her system. “Like my body is betraying me at the worst possible time.”
“Your body is trying to stabilize itself,” I corrected gently. “Suppressants work by artificially dampening your natural cycles. When they fail, your system has to readjust to its own patterns. It’s not betrayal. It’s biology trying to return to normal.”
“How long does that take?” she asked, looking worried.
“Depends on how long you’ve been suppressed and how your body handles the transition.” I opened my kit and pulled out a small vial of neutralizing oil. “May I check your scent baseline? It will help me understand where you are in the adjustment process.”
Willa glanced at Wes, who nodded encouragingly. “It’s not invasive,” he assured her. “Elias just needs to know what your natural signature is doing.”
She held out her wrist hesitantly, and I uncapped the vial. When I dabbed a small amount on her pulse point, her natural scent immediately became clearer. Jasmine and summer rain, but also something warmer underneath. Complex and beautiful, but definitely destabilized.
She’s going to need support through this transition, I realized.More than she’s ready to accept right now.
“What’s the verdict?” Willa asked, trying for lightness despite the worry in her eyes.
“You’re experiencing normal suppressant withdrawal,” I said honestly. “Your body is preparing to return to its natural cycle, which means some hormonal fluctuation over the next few days. Uncomfortable, but manageable with proper support.”
“Just uncomfortable?”
“The shaking should ease within a few hours. The dizziness might linger until tomorrow. Your scent will continue to strengthen as the artificial suppression wears off completely.” I pulled a small cloth from my kit. “But I can help with the immediate symptoms.”
The cloth was infused with chamomile and lavender, carefully balanced to provide comfort without interfering with her natural biology. I offered it to her, noting the way she hesitated before accepting it.
“This should help with the anxiety and physical discomfort,” I explained. “It won’t suppress your natural cycle, just ease the transition symptoms.”
Willa held the cloth to her nose and breathed deeply. I watched her shoulders relax slightly as the calming scents took effect.
“Better?” I asked.
“A little.” She looked at me with something that might have been gratitude. “Thank you. For coming, for helping, for not making this feel like a crisis.”
“It’s not a crisis,” I said firmly. “It’s a transition. And you don’t have to go through it alone.”
We sat in comfortable silence while the scent work did its job. Willa’s breathing deepened, her color improved, and the tight line of her shoulders eased. But what struck me most was the way she looked around her living space like she was seeing it differently.
“This place doesn’t feel like home yet,” she said suddenly, then looked embarrassed by the admission.
