Page 95 of Stream Heat
He didn’t step closer, not yet. “Of what?”
I didn’t answer. The next wave hammered in, and I made a noise that embarrassed me, shut my eyes tight against it.
“Designation doesn’t erase all the things you are,” Reid said. “It’s just one part of it. I see you. We all do.”
A tear slipped out, which pissed me off, but there was nothing I could do about it. “I hate this,” I said through clenched teeth. “I hate not being able to control it.”
He finally stepped in, not touching but close enough for me to sense the offer in the air. “You don’t have to do this alone. There are ways to get through it without losing yourself. If you want support, all you have to do is say so.”
The next wave nearly buckled my knees. He caught me before I fell, big hands so gentle I almost didn’t feel them at first, except his scent hit me right in the chest.
“Alpha,” I gasped, and immediately wanted to bite my own tongue off for saying it out loud.
He tightened his grip gently, voice careful and steady. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
I didn’t try to move. I didn’t want to. I clung to his arms, needing the anchor. “Stay,” I whispered, because pride only gets you so far.
He didn’t move. “Are you sure? Is this what you want, or is it just what the heat is telling you?”
And I was still myself enough to answer honestly. “Yes, I’m sure. I trust you. I’m just tired, Reid. I’m tired of fighting it alone.”
He nodded, and something subtle in him shifted. “Okay. But we set boundaries. What are you comfortable with?”
I expected him to just take over once I asked, but he waited. He really waited, and I had to decide, not the heat, not instinct.
“I need… scent. Touch. Proximity. But not… I’m not ready for anything more,” I said, words coming out ragged.
He understood immediately. “Comfort. No sexual contact. No claiming. Just support.”
“Yes,” I said, tension leaving my shoulders all in one go.
He sat down by me, not crowding, just present. “May I scent you? It helps.”
At the next tide of heat, I managed a “Please.”
He leaned in, slow, and brought his face to my neck and shoulder, breathing me in. At the first contact, I nearly jolted off the bed. Scent flooded my head and body, soothing and stoking the need at the same time, but making it bearable. The bond hummed, recognition settling into my bones.
“Better?” he murmured.
I swallowed. “A lot, actually. How do you know all this?”
He shrugged, a little smile on his lips. “Pack bonds aren’t just instinct. There are real biochemical triggers. Scenting regulates what you’re feeling.”
“You’ve been researching.”
He nodded, matter-of-fact. “All of us have. You think we’d just let you suffer if we could do better?”
The idea of them all studying Omega heat for my sake made something weirdly tender twist inside me.
Still, the next wave wasn’t pain, it was more like pleasure, or at least relief. I arched into it before I could catch myself.
“Why does it feel different this time?” I wondered, the words barely a whisper.
He kept stroking my back, firm and warm. “Because I’m here. Because you’re not alone. The bond expects support. When you get it, your body calms down.”
“It still wants…” I cut off, mortified, but he finished it for me.
“I know. But you set the boundary, and I’ll keep to it. Always.”
