Page 4 of Heat Clickbait
I refused to let my expression change, but Ghost caught my tell anyway, the slight tightening around my eyes that meant Crash had hit a nerve. We'd built it during our pack formation, each of us contributing elements we thought an eventual Omegamight want. Temperature-controlled with zones that could be adjusted to the degree, sound-proofed with materials that cost more than most people's cars, with adjustable lighting that could mimic everything from candlelight to full spectrum daylight and air filtration systems that could handle any scent combination. Milo had insisted on a kitchen annex with professional-grade equipment. Ghost had wired it with enough tech to run a small broadcast station, complete with cameras that could be hidden or revealed depending on privacy needs. Crash had somehow contributed a ball pit (which we'd vetoed after a heated pack meeting) and a collection of weighted blankets in every possible texture and weight (which we'd kept because they were actually brilliant). Blitz had installed a full gym setup in the adjacent room, reasoning that Omegas might want private space for exercise. I'd overseen the integration of everything into a cohesive whole that was both functional and aesthetically pleasing, with color schemes that could be adjusted and furniture that could be rearranged to suit any preference.
It was perfect. It was empty. It was a monument to our collective inability to find an Omega who fit with our already-established dynamic, and a constant reminder that maybe we were missing something fundamental about pack structure.
"The nest is irrelevant to this discussion," I said firmly, watching Blitz finally extract himself from his admirers and head our way with that easy confidence that made his workout streams hypnotic to watch.
"The nest is extremely relevant," Milo countered, absently arranging the remaining protein bars into a perfect pyramid while his voice took on that particular tone that meant he'd been thinking about this more than he'd let on. "We can't keep pretending we're not looking for?—"
"Professional collaboration," I interrupted before he could finish that thought. "Nothing more."
Blitz dropped into his chair with the kind of fluid grace that made his workout streams hypnotic to watch, muscles rippling under his fitted henley in a way that was definitely not calculated despite what his haters claimed in the comments. His hair was slightly mussed from running his hands through it while talking, a tell that meant he was more nervous about this event than he'd admitted.
"Sorry, had to promise GameGrind we'd do that twenty-four-hour marathon next month. Chad's raising money for his sister's medical bills. She needs some specialized treatment that insurance won't cover."
I added it to my calendar with a small sigh, already calculating how to rearrange our existing commitments. "That's the third charity stream this month."
"Yeah, well, people need help." Blitz shrugged, but his expression grew serious in the way it did when he talked about using their platform for good. "We've got the reach, might as well use it for something that matters. Subscriber count doesn't mean anything if you're not making a difference."
This was why, despite the chaos and the constant scheduling conflicts and Crash's inability to sit still for more than thirty seconds, our pack worked. We balanced each other in ways that seemed almost intentional, like Blitz's genuine desire to help others, Milo's instinctive caretaking that kept us all fed and healthy, Ghost's protective instincts that created safe spaces, Crash's chaotic joy that prevented us from taking ourselves too seriously, and my tendency to turn everything into spreadsheets and systems that actually kept us functional. We'd found each other through circumstance and choice rather than biology, built our bond through years of daily proximity and shared success rather than scent matching and traditional pack formation rituals.
We didn't need an Omega to complete us. We were already complete.
The collaboration would just be business. A way to expand our content offerings and reach new audiences. Nothing more complicated than that.
"First round starting in one minute!" The coordinator's voice carried over the growing din of nervous creators, clipboard held high like a battle standard.
I watched the Omegas begin their rotation pattern, some moving with confidence, others visibly trembling with nerves. The scent blockers most wore created a sharp chemical undertone to the air that made my nose itch and reminded me why I preferred video calls to in-person meetings. Modern dating, reduced to three-minute intervals and biological compatibility scores tracked on spreadsheets.
"Remember," I addressed my pack, keeping my voice low enough that neighboring tables couldn't hear but clear enough to cut through Crash's fidgeting, "we're evaluating for content potential, audience demographics, and professional compatibility. Nothing else matters."
Ghost typed rapidly on his phone:
You've said that six times in the last hour.
"Because it bears repeating," I replied, checking my notes one final time. "We need to stay focused on our goals."
The first Omega arrived at our table. She was a gaming streamer with neon blue hair that matched her nervous energy and anxiety radiating from every pore. She introduced herself in a voice barely above a whisper, hands shaking slightly as she set down her portfolio.
"I'm sorry," she squeaked, "I'm just really nervous. You're Bond Pack. You're like, streaming royalty or something."
"We're just five idiots with cameras," Crash said cheerfully, which actually made her laugh and relax marginally. "Really expensive cameras, but still idiots."
Milo immediately pushed a protein bar toward her with an encouraging smile. "These help with low blood sugar. First networking event?"
Three minutes. She talked about her retro gaming channel and her love for obscure JRPGs. We made appropriate interested noises, asked follow-up questions about her audience engagement. The bell rang, and she hurried away with slightly more confidence than she'd arrived with.
The second Omega was a lifestyle blogger who spent the entire three minutes trying to subtly scent Blitz while pretending to reach for water. He handled it with more grace than I would have, gently redirecting her attention to actual conversation about content creation and brand partnerships. She left looking disappointed but professional.
The third through seventh were varying degrees of forgettable. They were nice enough people, decent content, but no spark of anything that would elevate our collaborative efforts beyond basic cross-promotion. One travel vlogger had potential until she mentioned she was only available two months out of the year between filming schedules. A cooking streamer seemed promising until we realized her established streaming times directly conflicted with Milo's, and neither had the flexibility to adjust. A tech reviewer was knowledgeable but her audience skewed heavily toward enterprise rather than gaming and lifestyle content.
Ghost showed me his phone during the brief break:
Still think this was a good idea?
I stood and went to get a drink of water, the entire pack following my lead. I just needed some space from that blasted tiny table. When I turned back around the eighth and final Omega of our rotation was already sitting down. Waiting for us.
“Sorry, sorry,” I said as brightly as I could and murmured some kind of excuse for leaving her waiting as I came back to the table, then I sat down and something in the air shifted.
Pink hair like spun candy caught the harsh fluorescent lights and somehow made them look warm. Skin pale as moonlight that seemed to glow from within. Eyes the color of warm chocolate that looked right through our carefully coordinated pack presentation to something deeper, something that made my breath catch in my throat. She smelled like strawberry shortcake vape and industrial-strength scent blockers, but underneath that chemical barrier, something else whispered at the edge of perception — something that made every Alpha instinct I possessed sit up and take notice.
