Page 63 of Stream Heat
Everyone knew the horror stories, Alphas losing their minds, Omegas needing medical care afterward, all the ugly stuff no one wanted to talk about. That’s why there were laws and workplace rules and segregated dorms.
Ash’s eyes rolled so hard I thought they might fall out of his skull. “We’re not animals, Quinn. Control wasn’t optional in this house. Besides, we handled it before when we came to pick you up.”
Theo tried to make it lighter, but he couldn’t fake it all the way through. “We even have Alpha suppressants and quarantine protocols. Why d’you think it took us so long to get to you when you crashed on stream? We waited for our own meds to hit so nobody did something we’d regret.”
It shouldn’t have hit me like it did, but thinking of them suffering through Alpha suppressants for my sake was almost worse. That stuff ruined you, nausea, headaches, emotional static. “You guys shouldn’t have to do that.”
Reid was immovable. “We’re a team, Quinn. Your problem is our problem.”
There it was, plain and impossible to ignore. This was personal, not business, no matter how much any of us tried to keep it professional. And if they hadn’t walked away yet, they weren’t going to.
“I should just isolate,” I said, because it was the only answer that ever kept anyone in my life comfortable. “Hotel, maybe. Until it’s over.”
It was instantaneous, a chorus of “No” from all five, too loud for the size of the room. They even moved, bodies shifting forward to block the door, like I’d bolt and run if they didn’t.
“You’re safer here,” Malik said, all calm certainty. “We know your baseline. We know how to help. And we care.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to say I didn’t need help. But the thing gnawing under my skin was that I wanted to believe that last part, even if I knew better.
I lowered my voice. “What if I lose control? If I… ask for things I shouldn’t?”
The silence this time was heavy, loaded. We all knew what I meant, the begging, the biology, the kind of need that made you rip open boundaries and throw out consent. It wasn’t hypothetical.
Jace was matter-of-fact as he said, “We’d never take advantage. Not ever.”
Ash, head bobbing, jaw clenched. “We can handle ourselves. Even if you can’t.”
“Protocols, boundaries, safe words, support roles,” Malik said, his tone soothing my worry.
“Support roles,” I echoed, half-laughing even though none of this was funny.
Reid’s voice was level, clinical in a way that made things worse and better at the same time. “Non-sexual comfort. Scent support. Water. Temp adjustments. Only if you ask, only with consent.”
It was supposed to be comforting, and it was, but it also made my skin feel inside-out. The thought of five Alphas scent-supporting me, bringing water, touching me, even just to check if I was feverish or in distress? No thanks. Or… maybe yes, butthat was a line I was never going to cross, even if my brain was already dangling over the edge and staring down.
“This sucks,” I muttered, scrubbing my hands over my face. “I didn’t want you all to see me like this.”
Theo’s voice was soft, almost gentle, but sharp when it landed. “Like what? A person who had to deal with an actual body? You think you were the first one here who ever had biology get in the way?”
“Weak,” I admitted, and it was like chewing glass. “I just… didn’t want you to see me weak.”
Years and years of conditioning, every mentor and doctor and teammate counting the ways Omegas screwed things up. If I had a dollar for every time someone warned me never to be the liability, I’d never have had to stream again.
Reid stood and walked over until he was just at the edge of my space. He didn’t crowd me, didn’t use his size, just settled in until it was impossible not to look up. “You were and are not weak. You survived eight years of chemical warfare against yourself. You’re facing fallout with more guts than most people ever would. And you’re still fighting. Still showing up. Despite everything.”
It shouldn’t have broken me, but it almost did. My eyes stung, and my throat went tight. I shut that mess down fast.
Theo helped, as usual. “We’ve seen your worst already. Withdrawal. Meltdowns. That time you almost beaned Ash with a controller?”
I snorted, genuine, before I could help it. “He deserved it.”
“Yeah, but the point was, nothing about this was going to make us ditch you. We’re here.”
I wanted to doubt them, but the evidence said otherwise. So, for once, I gave in. “We do the plan. But I want privacy, locked doors, no risk of anyone, you know… crossing a line.”
Ash was ready. “Smart locks. Bedrooms only open from the inside. No exceptions.”
“Food and meds on a rotation,” Malik threw in. “Minimal contact, unless you ask otherwise.”
