Page 43 of Heat Island
“I’m also a cuddler,” Lucas announces, rolling onto his side and patting the empty space beside him. “Who’s joining me for a pre-dinner nap? Cash? You know you want to.”
The tension in the room dissipates like Kyren’s vape cloud. I catch Cash’s eye again, and he gives me a subtle shrug. Message received—we’ll table this discussion for now.
Whatever Kyren’s hiding, it can wait. My priority is Trinity. I need to figure out how to repair whatever damage has been done as soon as possible. I need to show her that I—that we—can be trusted.
I’ll get to the bottom of Kyren’s secret, eventually. But right now, there’s an omega who needs reassurance that she hasn’t made a terrible mistake bringing us here. And that matters more than anything else.
FOURTEEN
TRINITY
I wanderthrough the resort’s vast marble lobby, checking items off my mental to-do list while avoiding the actual issue—I don’t want to go back to the suite. Not with Kyren there. Not with any of them.
Not until I can pull myself together, at least.
The resort staff has everything under control for tonight’s dinner. The flower arrangements are perfect, the menu finalized, and the seating chart meticulously arranged to keep me as far from my sister’s fiancés as possible.
What I really need is a quiet corner to decompress before facing everyone again. Maybe the garden terrace? Or that little reading nook by the koi pond?
My phone buzzes. Josie.
JosieGrossie: Taking a nap before dinner. can’t wait to see your alphas tonight…love you
Great. Because I need another reminder that this dinner is going to be the official debut of my supposed relationship.
I glance at my watch. Three hours until dinner. Threehours to figure out how I’m going to pretend that Kyren—the alpha who ghosted me after our heated service session—is part of my loving pack.
The memory still stings. I can’t decide which option is worse:
He doesn’t remember that we literally fucked in every way possible during my multi-day heat only months ago, even after receiving my file from the matchmaking agency before signing the contract to come here.
or
He cares so little about me—outside of avoiding a stage five clinger—that this is legitimately just a job, and he isn’t bothered at all that I wasted weeks playing phone tag with the agency hoping to see him again.
Neither option is flattering.
I round the corner of the lobby bar and immediately freeze in my tracks.
Standing at the check-in desk are three familiar figures. Egret’s tall frame leans casually against the marble counter while Brendin gestures animatedly about something. Saren stands slightly apart, scanning the lobby, before he looks right in my direction.
My heart lurches into my throat. I spin on my heel, desperate to escape before any of them spot me.
That’s when it happens.
My foot hits a wet patch on the polished marble floor. My ankle twists. Arms flailing, I try to catch myself, but momentum carries me backward.
The world tilts and for a suspended moment, I’m airborne. Then pain explodes as the back of my head cracks against the hard floor. White light. Stars. Darkness creeping in at the edges.
Voices swim above me, distorted and far away.
“Miss? Can you hear me?”
“Someone call medical!”
“Don’t move her!”
I blink, trying to focus as faces hover above me. The ceiling spins in lazy circles.
