Page 151 of Stream Heat
Reid’s hand found my ankle, a touch that grounded me instantly. “Nonprofit applications spiked. Over three hundred creators seeking suppressants recovery support before dinner.”
Malik nodded. “Three other platforms implemented Heat Disclosure in the last two hours. Your testimony is rolling like a grenade through the industry.”
I soaked in their words, felt the awe of it swirl. I’d only ever wanted to survive. Fix my life enough to stop feeling like I was being eaten alive from the inside out. Never expected to do all this.
“I keep thinking about where I started,” I confessed, voice ragged with honesty. “Hiding my designation. Pretending I wasn’t Omega. Drugging myself to the edge of collapse just to stay invisible.”
“And now you’re running the show,” Theo grinned, the edges of his smile softening. “Omega Queen of the gaming world, leading a revolution, five Alphas orbiting you like satellites.”
Malik cut in, dry as ever. “Let’s avoid burning down the planet unless it’s necessary.”
I laughed, and it was raw and genuine and utterly unguarded. “Deal. No arson tonight.”
Reid’s gaze was steady. “It starts now, you know. Launch was just the opening shot. We have to build the community, change industry assumptions, lock in support for creators still coming off suppressants.”
I rolled my eyes. “Can’t we take one night to just… celebrate? No war council?”
Ash smirked. “We built the nest for a reason. Celebration and recovery. Both are required before tomorrow.”
He was right, of course. My body was ahead of me, as usual. The warmth started at my chest and pulsed outward: not a crash, not a medical emergency, but a slow, natural build. My scent shifted, honey and cracked pepper notes deepening, and suddenly the entire nest was alive with five Alpha responses, as primal as a flare in a cave.
“Quinn?” Reid’s voice dropped, smooth and dangerous. “Are you going into heat?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, the buzz of it sparking along my skin. “Right on schedule, for once.”
Six months ago, admitting that would have been a death sentence. Or at least career suicide. Now, it was just a thing that happened. Biology. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Do you want privacy?” Malik asked, respectfully backing off a millimeter but not surrendering an inch of pack support.
I took a beat to sort through the answer. This wasn’t a heat crash, not a trauma response. This was my body, healed andnormal and finally ready for what it was meant to do, with a pack that made me feel like the word normal had never been an insult.
“No,” I said. “Stay. I want you all here.”
Immediately, the mood shifted. Heat between us, yes, but also respect, and something else, a current of belonging so deep it made my eyes sting.
“Whatever you need,” Reid said. “You set the terms.”
“Just you,” I answered. “All of you. As my pack. My family. My home.”
As the heat climbed, I could only marvel at how much had changed. My first heat had nearly killed me, torn apart every wall I’d built. The second was agony, but this one… this was real. Whole. Mine.
Theo slid closer, helping with the buttons on my blazer. “Remember when you used to sneak into our rooms for nest supplies and then claim you weren’t nesting?”
I actually laughed. “I had no chill. Zero.”
Ash grunted. “Remember my screwdriver set? You stashed it under the mattress. Hope you know it’s still missing.”
“Worth it. Best nest in the city.”
Jace’s touch on my scalp was featherlight. “You trust us now. That’s the big thing.”
“You made it easy,” I said, and meant it.
Preparing for heat was a practiced dance by this point. Malik stocked hydration, Ash optimized the environmentals, Theo fluffed pillows and gathered fidgets, Jace set up calming noise, and Reid just watched, making sure nothing slipped through the cracks.
This was pack, I realized. Not some claim or title or legal arrangement, but a living thing. A choice, made again and again.
“Ready?” Reid asked, once the nest was perfect.
