Page 94 of Hot Knot Summer
“I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important,” I say, gritting my teeth against both pain and irritation.
“Mmm,” she hums, unconvinced. “Don’t we all think our problems are important? But some of us manage without monopolizing all three of them, while others can’t even get one.”
The pettiness in her tone would be laughable if I weren’t in such distress. “This isn’t a competition, Claire.”
“Isn’t it?” She laughs, the sound brittle and forced. “You’ve been in town what, a week? And somehow, you’ve got all three of them wrapped around your finger. Must be some kind of trick.”
Another cramp hits me, this one so intense I can’t suppress a gasp of pain. “I can’t do this right now,” I manage. “Just... tell them to check their messages if you see them.”
I hang up before she can respond, tossing the phone aside with a frustrated growl. Great. Now, not only am I alone and in agony, but I’ve also apparently made an enemy of the one person who might have been able to help me reach the Alphas.
Curling into a tighter ball, I press my face into River’s pillow as tears leak from the corners of my eyes. The pain is getting worse, the empty ache spreading from my core to encompass my entire body. Each wave brings with it memories of last night, River’s hands, his mouth, his knot filling me so perfectly.
But it’s not just River I crave. Images of Atlas on the balcony, of Levi in the tunnel of love, flickerthrough my mind. All three of them so different yet equally compelling, equally necessary somehow.
When did that happen? When did they become so essential to me?
The last few months flash through my mind—the growing restlessness in my relationship with Chad, the subtle signs of disconnection I ignored because it was easier than starting over. Then the brutal shock of his rejection, followed by discovering him with Claire. I’d fled to Whispering Grove, seeking solitude, a chance to lick my wounds in private.
Instead, I found them. Three Alphas who, in less than a week, have made me feel more seen, more understood, more wanted than Chad did in our entire relationship.
And now, curled in agony on an Alpha’s bed, soaked in my own slick and tears, the truth mocks me—I need them. Not just anyone, them specifically. My body was designed to seek connection, to crave compatible partners. Fighting that biological imperative has only led me here, alone, when I most need support.
The worst part isn’t even the physical pain, though that’s excruciating. It’s the fear. The vulnerability. The terrifying realization that I’ve come to depend on three men I barely know, that my body has recognized something in them my mind is still struggling to accept.
What if they don’t come back soon? What if this gets worse? Horror stories of Omegas driven to madness by untreated heats flash throughmy mind, tales whispered among friends of hospitalizations and permanent damage.
Is that my fate? After everything I’ve survived, losing my parents, my grandmother, Chad’s betrayal, is this how I finally break? Alone in a strange town, consumed by an unexpected heat with no one to help me through it?
I reach for my phone again, sending desperate text messages to all three Alphas.
Please call me. In heat. Need help.
It’s bad. Really bad. Please.
I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I don’t know what to do.
The messages stare back at me, unread. Unseen. Unanswered.
Another wave of heat crashes over me, this one so intense, I cry out, clutching at the sheets as my back arches involuntarily. The emptiness inside me is a physical pain now, a hollow ache that nothing can fill.
I try pleasuring myself again, fingers working desperately between my thighs, but it’s useless. The orgasm that ripples through me is weak, unsatisfying, serving only to highlight what I’m missing.
“Please,” I sob, face pressed into River’s pillow as another contraction of need twists through me. “Please come back.”
Only silence answers me. I’m truly alone, at the mercy of my biology and the cruel timing of an unexpected heat.
The minutes stretch into hours, each one aneternity of alternating waves of need and pain. I drift in and out of lucidity, the fever taking a greater toll with each passing moment. At some point, I’ve stripped completely naked, the fabric of my clothes too abrasive against my hypersensitive skin.
In a moment of clarity, I remember something from an Omega health class. Water can sometimes help regulate body temperature during heat. With trembling limbs, I drag myself to the bathroom, every movement an exercise in agony as my body protests being pulled away from the Alpha scents in River’s room.
I manage to turn on the shower, collapsing under the spray without bothering to adjust the temperature. The cool water provides momentary relief, washing away the slick from my thighs and the sweat from my skin, but it does nothing for the internal burn, the desperate emptiness that feels like it’s consuming me from the inside out.
How long can I endure this? How long before this heat causes real damage? The rational part of my brain knows I should call for medical help, but the thought of strangers touching me during heat, of clinical hands and dispassionate faces, fills me with a different kind of terror.
I want them. My Alphas. No one else.
Eventually, the water runs cold enough to make me shiver despite the fever raging through me. I turn it off with clumsy fingers and stumble back to River’s room, leaving wet footprints inmy wake.
