Page 47 of Stream Heat
"Quinn?" It was Reid this time, staring hard, worried but not crowding me. "Preference on the drink order?"
I said the first thing that came to mind. “Whatever’s fine.” I could barely keep my voice steady.
This was supposed to be business. Six months, salvage the contract, and then we’d all go our separate ways.
But my system didn’t care about contracts. My Omega instincts were running wild, hungry for the kind of connection I'd nearly convinced myself I didn’t need.
The doorbell rang. Theo shot off to greet the delivery; the others reset into conversation and unpacking, but I just stood there, letting the panic dig deeper.
Because pack bonds didn’t have an opt-out clause. Once made, they didn’t break. They marked you, rewired you, became the backbone of your psyche. And despite all my best efforts, despite eight years of fighting my biology, I wanted it.
I wanted in.
I wanted the safety net of Reid's scent when I was seconds from spiraling. I wanted Jace's quiet, invisible touch, the way he fixed things without making me perform gratitude. I wanted Malik’s breathing patterns and steady hands. I wanted Theo’s impossible optimism and Ash’s practical problem solving.
That was the truth, and it hit harder than any withdrawal. I wanted to belong, wanted to trust, wanted to be taken care of. The realization scraped open a hole in my defenses that might never heal.
Jace materialized next to me, like he had a sixth sense for breakdowns. “You okay?” he asked, almost whispering.
I forced eye contact, hoping he couldn’t see how close I was to crumbling. “Just tired. The stream took more out of me than I thought.”
He accepted it, nodding once. “Eat first, then rest. Your system needs fuel to stabilize.”
So simple. No fuss, no strings, no noise. It made my chest ache.
“Thanks,” I said. “For earlier, too. With the lights.”
He held my gaze. “Anytime.”
We joined the others at the island, the wall of conversation and clatter barely registering. I sat back and watched them. Reid passed me the food without asking, Theo kept his excitement at a human level, Malik steered conversation away from anything dangerous, Ash blocked the cold air from the newly opened door, Jace kept the lighting soft.
It was textbook. The formation, the choreography, the de-escalation tactics. All of it pointed in my direction, even if none of them admitted it out loud.
And every nerve ending screamed: Pack.
“Temporary,” I whispered to myself, uselessly.
But it was a lie.
I ate without thinking, body relaxing inch by inch. The banter, the tiny considerations, the way Reid didn’t hover but still watched me, it all built a buffer against the truth.
This was supposed to be a content strategy.
But from where I was sitting, it felt a lot more like the start of a family. And if I let it keep growing, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to leave.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kara
I woke with a start, disoriented in the pre-dawn darkness. My skin felt too tight, my heart racing for no apparent reason. The withdrawal symptoms had been better yesterday, so why this sudden backslide?
I fumbled for the bedside lamp, wincing as light flooded the room. The digital clock read 4:17 AM. Too early to take my next dose of suppressants, but too late to hope for more sleep with my system in revolt like this.
Something had woken me. A sound? A feeling? I couldn't place it.
The house was quiet, the others presumably asleep, yet I felt... unsettled. Restless in a way that had nothing to do with medication and everything to do with instincts I'd spent years denying.
I pushed myself upright, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, and that's when I noticed it. Reid's hoodie, the one he'd lent me days ago when I was cold, had fallen to the floor. Without thinking, I reached for it, bringing it to my face before I could stop myself.
