Page 70 of Stream Heat
In other words: pack bonding. The last thing I wanted to talk about.
I tried to fight it. “I’ve been researching alternatives. Different suppressants, or therapy, or, I don’t know, something that works without all this? Without…”
“Becoming dependent on Alphas?” Reid finished, voice barely above a whisper.
I glared at him, hurt and furious and terrified all at once. “Yes.”
Dr. Patel didn’t flinch. “Kara, I understand your desire for autonomy. Truly. But your body is severely compromised. Without appropriate support, you risk long-term damage. Your system is sending very clear distress signals.”
“And ‘support’ means them.” I gestured at Reid, at the evidence-laden nest, at the house full of Alphas.
“Support means letting your designation needs be met instead of fighting them,” she said, gentle but unyielding. “Your unconscious nesting is your body’s way of healing. It’s not a failure.”
Heat climbed up the back of my neck. Of course she’d noticed the nest. So had Reid. Even if he stayed poker-faced, I could sense the way his scent thickened, the ozone, the sharpness.
“That’s just... withdrawal comfort stuff,” I tried, knowing how weak it sounded.
“It’s pack-bonding behavior, and it’s healthy,” Dr. Patel said flatly. “Letting yourself nest, allowing in their scents, is your system seeking what it needs.”
“So I’m just stealing their stuff because my DNA tells me to.” I spat the words out, bitter.
A strangled sound came from Reid, a half-laugh, half-sigh. I shot him a death glare.
He shrugged, unapologetic. “We’ve noticed the hoarding for weeks, Kara. Did you think no one realized what was happening?”
Mortification crushed me. “Why didn’t you call me out?”
“Because you needed it,” he said. “And we didn’t mind.”
The matter-of-factness made it somehow worse. They’d all seen, they’d all understood, and they’d just... allowed it. No judgment. No humiliation. Just silent, practical accommodation for my needs.
Dr. Patel continued, running through the rest of her checklist while I tried to process that. “Your withdrawal symptoms should keep improving. But you’ll need ongoing medication and, ideally, actual designation support. The more you reject pack bonds, the worse your system will compensate.”
“You mean letting them scent me,” I deadpanned. “Letting bond ties form.”
“I mean letting your body get what it’s asking for. The alternative is medical intervention, and frankly, that may not be enough after what you’ve put yourself through.”
Heavy silence. Reid crossed his arms, tension radiating from him in waves, even as he kept his expression flat. I recognizedthe scent, protectiveness, worry, barely reined in as he waited for me to say something.
Dr. Patel packed up her bag. “I’ll leave you with a revised treatment plan and extra meds. The rest is up to you, Kara. But as your doctor, I urge you not to dismiss the option that’s right in front of you, even if it’s the hardest one to accept.”
When the door closed behind her, I slumped onto the corner of my bed, the nest, really, since there was no point denying it now. I was exhausted. Not just physically, but in a way that felt like my bones were tired.
“You could’ve said something,” I muttered, staring at the piles of clothes and gear. “About all this.”
Reid didn’t move. “Would you have admitted it if I had?”
I clenched my jaw. “No. Probably not.”
“Exactly.” He pushed away from the wall, still not getting too close. “None of us minded, Kara. We knew you needed it, even if you didn’t want to see it yet.”
I looked at the evidence. Hoodies. Hats. Random objects with their fingerprints or their scent or their memories attached. “It’s humiliating.”
“Why?” he asked, and it was so earnest that it caught me off guard. “Because you have needs that make you vulnerable? Because your body is doing what it has to do to fix itself? There’s no shame in that.”
“It’s not the needs,” I ground out. “It’s the dependency. I’ve spent my entire career proving I don’t need anyone. Especially not Alphas. Now I’m supposed to just... rely on you? All of you?”
He fell silent, then said, “Did you think less of me when I told you about my rut suppressant crash? When I admitted I needed the whole pack to get through it?”
