Page 28 of Heat Clickbait
"Especially then," Blitz said. "That's the Callie we want. Not just the heat-drunk Omega who needs us, but the savage independent creator who built an empire on not needing anyone."
"That doesn't make sense," I protested.
"Doesn't it?" Milo asked. "You're choosing us despite everything telling you not to. That's not weakness, Callie. That's the bravest thing I've ever seen."
Tears were streaming down my face now, and I didn't even try to stop them. Three days of biological intensity had stripped away every defense I'd built, leaving me raw and exposed in ways that had nothing to do with the fact that I was still naked except for someone's shirt.
"I don't know how to do this," I admitted. "How to be yours without losing myself."
"Then we figure it out together," Nova said simply. "Day by day. Choice by choice."
"What if the internet's right? What if this is just hormones and proximity and really good marketing?"
"Then we'll have had three incredible days," Ghost said, and the pragmatism of it somehow helped. "But I don't think that's all this is."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I haven't let anyone touch me since my first pack died," he said quietly, and the admission hung in the air like a physical presence. “Years of nothing. No casual contact, nothing. But you... you walked into that convention room and my body remembered what it was like to want to belong to someone."
"We all have our damage," Nova added. "I've been so focused on control that I forgot what it felt like to let go. Milo stress-bakes when he can't fix things. Crash literally cannot sit still when he's anxious. Blitz has been performing 'himbo' for so long he forgot that he's actually brilliant. We're all broken in our own ways."
"So we're trauma bonding?" I asked, trying for humor but landing somewhere closer to hope.
"We're bonding," Milo corrected. "The trauma's just seasoning."
"Seasoning." I looked at him incredulously. "You did not just compare our psychological damage to seasoning."
"Good seasoning enhances the natural flavors," he said with a perfectly straight face. "Too much and you ruin the dish. Too little and it's bland. We've all got just enough trauma to make us interesting without being toxic."
"That's either the worst or best analogy I've ever heard," I said, and realized I was actually smiling.
"Both," Crash decided. "It's both. Like us. We're going to be both amazing and terrible and everything in between."
I looked around the nest at five Alphas who'd just spent three days proving they could handle me at my most vulnerable, who'd refused to take advantage even when I'd begged them to, who were sharing their own fears as freely as they'd shared their bodies.
"I still don't know your middle names," I pointed out weakly.
"We told you those already," Nova said with fond exasperation. "During the height of your heat, so you probably don't remember."
"Tell me again?"
And they did, going around the circle. James, Gabriel, Theodore, Luis, and Wolfgang ("Still embarrassing," Blitz muttered). Somehow knowing those small details made them feel more real. More permanent. More frightening.
"I want to try," I heard myself saying. "To see what this is without the heat. Without the pressure. Just... us."
"That's all we want," Nova assured me. "A chance."
"But I need to maintain my own space too. My own life. My brand?—"
"We wouldn't want you to change that," Milo interrupted. "Your independence is part of what makes you... you."
"Even if I use our relationship for content?" I challenged.
"Especially then," Crash grinned. "Think of the views, Callie. The drama. The engagement metrics."
"You're all insane," I decided.
"Probably," Nova agreed. "But we're your kind of insane."
