Page 15 of Heat Clickbait
I yielded in ways that would’ve made past me scoff, my pride dissolving like sugar on the tongue, so sweet and inevitable. The submission didn’t feel like loss though, instead it felt like finally letting go of a weight I didn't even know I’d been carrying. His control wasn’t constricting; it was freeing. He pulled at my strings, and instead of resisting, I arched into the touch, craving the way his precise dominance carved out a space where I didn’t have to think, to fight, to perform.
His hands, which were manicured and strong, capable of crafting spreadsheets and wrecking me in equal measure, guided my every movement with practiced ease. The gold of his family signet ring was cool against my overheated skin. Between kisses and whispered filth, his perfectly groomed beard scraped across my neck, my collarbones, my thighs, leaving behind trails of sensation that burned like fine liquor, slow, deliberate, intoxicating.
And his voice never stopped. Like a maestro conducting a symphony, he narrated every second. Dirty promises slipped into reverence. Murmured demands softened into praise. He told me what he wanted next, how he wanted it, how exquisite I looked giving myself over to him, and I believed every word.Because Nova didn’t lie, didn’t exaggerate, didn’t waste words. If he said I was beautiful like this, trembling and surrendered, then I was.
Lost in him, lost in the push-and-pull, in the way our bodies moved together like a perfectly negotiated contract, mutually beneficial, no small print, no regrets, I finally understood why Omegas chased this feeling. Why my mother hadn’t been able to resist it. And I didn’t want to be found. Not ever.
Hours blended together in a haze of pleasure and need and satisfaction. They rotated seamlessly, one stepping in as another needed rest, their pack coordination extending into this most intimate act. Between waves, they fed me — Milo's carefully prepared, easy to digest and perfectly balanced food. They kept me hydrated, bathed me with warm cloths, held me while I dozed fitfully.
"The nest knows," I mumbled during one coherent moment, feeling how the space itself seemed to pulse with our combined energies. "It was waiting for this."
"We all were," Ghost said softly, the most words he'd spoken in hours. "Even when we didn't know it."
By the time the sun set, or rose, I'd lost track of time completely, we were all exhausted but exhilarated. My heat showed no signs of abating, but the panic was gone. They had me. They'd proven it over and over, through each wave, each moment of vulnerability.
"This is what my mother was afraid of," I said, surprising myself with the admission. "Losing herself to this."
"You haven't lost anything," Nova said firmly, pressing a kiss to my temple. "You're still Callie. Still fierce and independent and absolutely yourself. You're just... more now."
More. That was exactly it. I wasn't less for needing them. I was more for having them, for being brave enough to accept what they offered even when it terrified me.
Another wave began to build, and I reached for whoever was nearest. Crash, this time, his hair even wilder than before and his grin wicked.
"Ready for round... whatever?" he asked, already moving into position.
"With you all?" I pulled him down for a kiss that was all teeth and need. "Always."
The heat raged on, but I wasn't fighting it anymore. I was riding it, with five Alphas who'd proven they'd catch me every time I fell.
This wasn't the disaster I'd feared. This was something else entirely.
This was pack.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Blitz
I stepped out of the nest, my muscles still burning from the marathon session we'd just survived. The hallway felt wrong. Too bright, too cold, too empty of Callie's sugar-and-spice scent that had been drowning me for hours. My wolf whined at the separation, but someone needed to check the outside world. Make sure it hadn't burned down while we'd been... busy.
The kitchen clock read 3:47 PM. Had to be Sunday then, based on when we'd left the convention. My phone sat charging on the counter where Ghost had plugged it in, probably while doing his security rounds between his turns with Callie. Thoughtful bastard.
The screen lit up with numbers that made my eyes cross. 847 missed calls. 2,394 unread texts. My Instagram had gained... Jesus, 400K followers since Friday? The notifications tab just showed "99+" and gave up trying.
I opened my preferred social media app first. Big mistake.
#TrueMateMatchwas trending worldwide. Not just in the streaming category or entertainment, but worldwide. Between COVID and some political scandal, our faces were plasteredacross the trending page. The video from the convention had 14 million views and climbing.
"Fuck me sideways," I muttered, scrolling through the chaos.
The footage was everywhere. Some angel, or devil, depending on how you looked at it, had captured the exact moment Callie's scent hit us. You could see it ripple through our pack like a shockwave. Nova's hands clenching, my whole body going rigid, Crash literally stumbling backward, Milo's eyes dilating so fast it looked edited, and Ghost... Ghost actually looking up from his phone.
The comments ranged from swooning to cynical:
THE WAY THEY ALL MOVED TO PROTECT HER I CANNOT
This is staged marketing bullshit and y'all are falling for it
Medical professional here - that's a textbook true mate response. The pupil dilation alone...
