Page 94 of Eight Count Heat
The team disperses, heading off in different directions while maintaining visual contact. Bo stays close to me, his body positioned to block me from curious onlookers and anyone who might catch my rapidly intensifying scent.
"Can you hold it together until we get inside?" he asks quietly as we walk toward the boathouse, his hand hovering near my elbow without quite touching me.
I nod, but another wave of heat pulses through me without warning, nearly buckling my knees. Bo steadies me with a firm hand on my elbow, his touch sending an electric current through my oversensitized skin.
"Just a little longer," he murmurs, voice rough with the effort of maintaining control. "Almost there."
We reach the equipment room unnoticed, slipping inside the dimly lit space filled with spare oars, tools, and maintenance supplies. Cameron and Eli are already there, faces tense. Gray arrives moments later, followed by Tyler.
"Jackson and Beckett are running interference with the officials," Gray informs us. "Zane's keeping an eye on the coaches."
"How bad?" Eli asks, studying me carefully.
"Bad," I admit, no point hiding it now. "Both doses are completely gone."
"Options?" Gray turns to the group, but I can see him struggling to maintain his usual control.
"Limited," Tyler responds. "Full heat within one to two hours based on current hormone cascade."
"We need to get her back to the hotel," Cameron says, his voice firm.
"Awards ceremony first," I remind them, forcing strength into my voice. "We can't all disappear without raising questions. And I won't let Andrea and Kinsley win by default."
The mention of their names makes several of the guys tense.
"What do you mean?" Gray asks.
"They've been planning this. The timing, the pressure, forcing me to race until I broke." I lean against the wall, needing the support. "They're out there right now, waiting for me to collapse publicly."
"Over my dead body," Bo growls.
Eli steps forward, his usually impassive face showing rare animation. "I have a potential solution. Temporary, but it might work."
All eyes turn to him expectantly.
"Coach's medical kit," he continues, voice low. "Should contain emergency heat suppressant. Standard issue for elite competitions where Omegas might be competing. Regulation requirement since the Title IX expansion."
"You know where it is?" Gray asks, hope entering his voice for the first time.
Eli nods. "Medical office. Left cabinet, red case."
"Stealing from the coach?" Bo sounds doubtful.
"Borrowing," Eli corrects without hesitation. "For medical necessity. We'll replace it later."
"How strong would it be?" I ask, hope rising in my chest for the first time since I felt the injection failing.
"Military grade, most likely. Enough to get through the awards ceremony and the public appearances." Eli's expression remains neutral, not offering false comfort or unnecessary alarm. "Not enough for the full cycle, but sufficient for immediate needs."
"How long would it last?" Gray presses, already calculating next steps.
"Eight hours. Ten at most," Eli responds with the exactitude that characterizes everything he does.
Bo and Gray exchange loaded looks, an entire conversation happening in silence.
"Better than nothing," Gray decides after a moment. "Do it."
Eli slips out without another word.
