But I can't bring myself to feel too guilty. It's not like I'm planning to act on it. And if a little solo time keeps me from doing something we'll all regret, then everybody wins.
I finish cleaning up and emerge to find the others in uncomfortable silence.
"Better?" Dante asks, but there's something knowing in his expression.
"Loads," I say, because I'm an asshole who can't help making bad puns even when the situation calls for maturity.
An hour crawls by. Then I hear it, soft footsteps from next door through the open connecting door. The quiet sound of a bathroom door closing.
She's awake.
Water starts running, and my traitorous imagination kicks into overdrive. Steam curling around her small frame. Soap sliding over skin I've never seen but want to worship with my tongue.
I try to think about anything else. Baseball. Taxes. The fucking weather.
It doesn't work.
Twenty minutes later, the water shuts off. For a moment, there's silence.
Then something shifts in the very air around us. Even through the open door between our rooms, I can smell it.
Arousal.
The scent hits me hard. Sweet and musky and so goddamn intoxicating it steals the breath from my lungs. Rich like honey, warm like summer rain, calling to every primitive instinct I possess.
She's touching herself.
Holy fuck.
Our innocent little omega, discovering the mysteries of her own body in the steam-filled privacy of that shower. Learning what pleasure feels like when it's her choice, her hands, her rhythm.
Every alpha in both rooms goes rigid. Cassian grips his chair like it's a lifeline. Gunner's breathing becomes carefully controlled. Even Dante looks like he's about to crack.
The scent builds like a symphony reaching crescendo. Grows richer. More complex. I can practically taste her on my tongue, and it's better than anything I've ever experienced.
She's learning. Exploring. Finding spots that make her gasp and sigh.
When she comes, and fuck, we allknowwhen she comes because her scent explodes through the air like a bomb going off, I have to bite my pillow to muffle the sound that wants to escape.
It's raw. Desperate. Completely involuntary.
The most beautiful thing I've ever experienced.
Beside me, Gunner makes a sound like he's dying. Cassian's chair creaks ominously.
Then silence. Heavy and charged and full of everything we can't say.
She emerges from the bathroom thirty minutes later, and I can hear her settling back into bed with careful, quiet movements. Her scent has transformed into something satisfied but tinged with confusion.
"Fuck," Dante mutters from across the room. "We need those suppressants. And maybe some blockers too... just for a while."
Cassian grumbles at the mention of blockers but doesn't argue. We all know what he's thinking. Blockers are for omegas who need protection from unwanted alpha attention. But right now, they might be the only thing keeping us all sane.
I close my eyes and try to find sleep that's been avoiding me all night. Tomorrow's going to be complicated. Planning supply runs, keeping her safe, figuring out how the hell we're going to make this work long term.
Tomorrow's going to be the start of forever with Daisy.
She just doesn't know it yet.