Page 46 of Omega on Fire

"Whatever happens next," I tell her, leaning up on my elbow to press a quick kiss to her cheek, "we've got you."

Charlotte's scent transforms the air around us into something thick and intoxicating. The nest reeks of need—her honey-cinnamon pheromones mixing with our collective Alpha and Beta bouquet—whiskey, leather, incense and rain. Chemistry at its most primal.

I watch her throat work as she swallows water from Moses’ offered bottle. A single droplet escapes the corner of her mouth, tracking a glistening path down her neck. Every muscle in my body tightens.

"Better?" Moses asks, his voice gravel-rough.

Charlotte nods against Teagan's chest, but the movement looks painful—jerky and uncoordinated. Her eyes are unfocused, pupils blown wide, skin flushed deep bronze. The rational part of our omega is losing ground with each passing minute.

"More," she whispers, and none of us knows if she means water or something else entirely.

Josiah's hands work steady patterns up her calves, his face a mask of concentration. "Your muscles areseizing," he murmurs. "The hormone surge is causing micro-contractions."

Leave it to Joker to turn even this into a fucking science class. But his hands know what they're doing and Charlotte sighs as he works the knots from her legs.

"Talk to me, Little Harlequin," I say, brushing sweaty curls from her face. "Tell me what you need."

Her eyes lock onto mine, suddenly clearer. "I need to not be so fucking hot."

A ragged laugh escapes me. Even in the throes of heat, my girl's got fight.

"Then let's get these clothes off you." I tug at the hem of her sweat-soaked t-shirt, raising an eyebrow in question. Always her choice.

She doesn't hesitate, arching forward to help. Teagan supports her back as I sit up to peel the damp fabric up and over her head. Her bra follows—simple black cotton that looks like heaven against her skin.

"Jesus," I breathe. Her breasts are full, nipples dark and tight, begging for attention. My mouth waters.

"All of it," she demands, already pushing at her yoga pants. "Please."

Four pairs of hands move at once, each of us claiming territory. Moses works her pants down whileJosiah removes her socks. Teagan unclasps her necklace with careful fingers, setting it safely aside. I hover near her face, drinking in every expression crossing her beautiful features as she's slowly unwrapped.

When she's naked before us, Charlotte doesn't shrink away. Instead, she stretches out like a queen surveying her domain, knowing damn well we're all moments from falling at her feet.

"Better," she sighs, then winces as another wave hits her. Her thighs press together, seeking friction, and the movement releases a fresh wave of her scent. Slick glistens between her legs, and my cock strains painfully against my jeans.

"Christ, Char," Teagan groans, pressing his face to her shoulder. "You're killing us."

"Good," she manages through gritted teeth. "Then I won't die alone."

We laugh, the tension breaking for a heartbeat before rebuilding stronger. Her hand finds mine, squeezing hard enough to hurt.

"What now?" Josiah asks, always the practical one, though his voice has gone liquid with desire.

Charlotte's gaze drifts over each of us, unhurried despite her pain. Making her choice. When her eyes return to mine, I already know.

"Motley first, I don't want to feel overwhelmed" she says through panting breaths, using my callsign like a fucking weapon. That girl knows what it does to me, hearing it from her lips.

Moses and Josiah move back, giving us space without leaving the nest. Teagan starts to shift away, but Charlotte clutches his arm. "Stay," she orders, then looks up at him. "Hold me."

I strip in record time, not giving a single fuck about finesse. My clothes join hers on the floor, and I'm naked, cock jutting proudly toward her like it's found magnetic north.

Charlotte turns in Teagan's arms to face me, still cradled between his thighs. She reaches for me, and I crawl to her on all fours, predatory, unable to disguise the animal she awakens.

"Beaux," she whispers as I hover over her. Her hands trace the tattoos covering my chest—angels, demons, dragons. "I need you."

Three simple words that break whatever restraint I had left.

I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing her gasp. She tastes like fire and home and something I've been chasing my entire fucking life. Her tongue meets mine, eager and demanding, no submissive omega bullshit here. My Harlequin fights for what she wants.

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