Page 43 of Heat Clickbait
Ghost actually flushed slightly, color rising in his pale cheeks in a way that I hadn't known was possible, and something warm and protective stirred in my chest at seeing him receive recognition for his work.
"Right," Zia said, hefting her cases with practiced ease, "Cal, I'm around if you need anything. Emergency extraction, audio crises, someone to tell these Alphas when they're being weird in ways they don't realize." She paused at the door, studying my face with the intensity of someone who'd known me through more than one major life crisis and could read every micro-expression. "But honestly? You look genuinely good. Happy. Different than before, but good different. Less brittle around the edges."
"Thanks, Z. For everything." The words felt inadequate for how much her presence had steadied me.
"Don't thank me yet. Just remember to eat actual food instead of surviving on those candy vapes and whatever caffeine delivery system you're currently abusing." She looked directly at Milo with the expression of someone transferring a sacredresponsibility. "I'm counting on you for that, cooking one. She has a tendency to forget food exists when she's stressed."
"Already on it," Milo promised solemnly, hand over heart like he was taking a vow. "Meal schedule's posted on the fridge."
After she left, the house felt quieter but not empty, more like the satisfied quiet after a problem had been solved rather than the hollow silence of abandonment. The pack had witnessed me with my actual friend, not a business colleague or collaboration partner, but someone who knew me before any of this Alpha-Omega biology had complicated my life.
"She's protective of you," Nova observed, his tone carrying notes of approval and recognition.
"We're protective of each other," I corrected, settling back into my streaming chair. "That's what real friends do. We've got each other's backs regardless of designation or pack status."
"She didn't react to our scents at all," Crash noted, fascination clear in his voice. "Like, literally zero biological response. I've never seen an Omega completely ignore Alpha pheromones before."
"She's got a rare condition," I explained, checking my stream settings one final time. "Scent-blind specifically to Alpha pheromones. Makes her perfect for her job, she can work with anyone without biological interference clouding her judgment or making her uncomfortable."
"That's why you called her specifically," Ghost said, understanding dawning in his dark eyes. "Not just for audio help."
I nodded, grateful he'd made the connection. "I needed someone who could see this situation clearly, without the pheromone fog affecting her perception. Someone who knows me as just Callie, not 'Omega who found her pack' or 'viral sensation who went into heat on camera.'"
"And?" Blitz prompted, leaning against the doorframe with genuine curiosity. "What's her professional verdict on us?"
I thought about Zia's parting words, the approval I'd caught in her analytical gaze as she'd studied each of them, the way she'd relaxed when she realized I was genuinely happy rather than performing happiness for survival.
"She says you're weird but fundamentally decent," I reported honestly. "From Zia, that's basically a glowing recommendation. She doesn't give approval lightly."
"We'll take it," Nova said with genuine satisfaction, and the others nodded agreement.
As I settled in to stream with my newly perfected audio setup, surrounded by Alphas who were learning to give me space while staying close enough to help, I felt something ease in my chest that I hadn't even realized was tight. I could have both my independence and my pack, my old friendships and these new bonds, my established identity and whatever I was becoming.
The chat immediately noticed the improved audio quality when I went live, comments flooding in about how professional and clear everything sounded.
"Thank my friend Ziafox," I told them, grinning at the camera. "Best sound engineer in the business, and the only person who can fix my technical disasters while roasting me about them in the most loving way possible."
The stream continued, normal and comfortable, with occasional appearances from various pack members bringing me water, snacks, or just checking that I had everything I needed. Not performing for the cameras, not putting on a show, just... existing together in a space that was starting to feel like home.
Maybe this could actually work long-term. Maybe I could build something real here.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Callie
I sat across from Nova in the tiny coffee shop he'd chosen, three blocks from the pack house and deliberately empty at 2 PM on a Tuesday. He'd texted me that morning with characteristic precision.
Coffee. 2 PM. The quiet place on Fifth. Just us.
The message had arrived at exactly 7:43 AM, probably calculated to give me optimal processing time without inducing overthinking.
The "just us" part had made my stomach flip in ways I was still getting used to, a swooping sensation that had nothing to do with heat cycles and everything to do with genuine anticipation.
He looked different outside the chaos of the house, more polished but somehow more vulnerable. His designer glasses caught the afternoon light streaming through the window, reflecting little prisms across his sharp cheekbones. He'd actually ironed his casual shirt, because of course he had, the crisp lines speaking to his need for control even in supposedly relaxed settings. I couldn't help but watch as he wrappedhis long fingers around his cup, Earl Grey with no sugar, temperature probably calculated to the degree.
The coffee shop itself felt like him, understated elegance with warm wood tones and shelves lined with leather-bound books. I wondered if he'd scouted locations, maybe even created a comparison spreadsheet rating ambient noise levels and seating arrangements. The thought made me bite back a smile.
"You're nervous," I observed, wondering if it was to the same level as my own nervousness.
