Page 79 of Heat Clickbait
"Would you expect anything less?"
As we loaded everything into the SUV, Crash suddenly stopped mid-motion, a heavy bag of pillows dangling from his arms.
"Wait. We should document this."
"Not everything needs to be content," I started automatically, the defensive response built from months of having every private moment potentially become public property.
"Not for content. For us. For remembering." His voice was unusually serious, that manic energy settling into something softer. "Like, when you're ninety and can't remember why you have fourteen different throw pillows, you'll have proof that we had fun getting them."
So we took a photo, all six of us crowded around the mountain of nesting supplies in the parking lot, everyonelooking slightly disheveled from shopping but genuinely happy. Nova's usually perfect hair had fallen across his forehead, Ghost had actually lowered his hood for once, and the late afternoon sun caught the highlights in everyone's hair. Later, I'd look at that photo and see something I'd missed in the moment, how they all looked at me with such open affection, such pride in being able to provide this simple pleasure, like I was something precious they'd been waiting their whole lives to spoil.
The drive home was comfortable in the way that only happened when pack bonds were settled and content. Everyone was discussing where each new item would go, how to integrate my choices with what already existed.
Ghost typed notes on his phone about optimal placement for the new tech, his engineering brain already working out power requirements and cable management. Milo planned which snacks to stock in the nest's kitchen annex, mentally cataloguing comfort foods that would pair well with different moods. Crash and Blitz debated the merits of different pillow arrangements with surprising passion, their discussion getting increasingly technical as they considered sight lines and structural support.
But it was Nova's quiet observation, delivered in that thoughtful tone he used for insights that had been brewing for a while, that stuck with me: "The nest was waiting for you to make it complete. Just like we were."
As we pulled into the driveway of our house…Our house, when had I started thinking of it that way?
I felt that first telltale warmth low in my belly, a subtle heat that had nothing to do with the afternoon sun. My heat was approaching, way ahead of Dr. Yates' careful predictions based on my history. But even though it was unscheduled and unpredicted, instead of the familiar spike of fear and the urge to hide, I felt only anticipation. The nest was ready. My pack was ready.
And for the first time in my life, so was I.
"Um, guys?" I said as we started unloading, my voice pitched higher than usual as the first wave of pheromones began to shift. "I think we might need to set this up quickly."
Five heads turned to me in perfect synchronization, nostrils flaring as they caught the subtle change in my scent, that shift from baseline spun sugar and chili pepper to something warmer, more inviting.
"Heat?" Milo asked, already mentally calculating supplies and timelines, his protective instincts shifting into high gear.
"Soon. Maybe tomorrow? Possibly tonight if my body decides to be really dramatic about it."
"Early," Ghost commented.
"I'll contact Dr. Yates, just to get her opinion," Nova said.
"Then we'd better get started," Crash added at the same time. "Good thing we have all night to make everything perfect."
As we carried our purchases inside, the house filling with excited chatter and the rustle of packaging being opened with the enthusiasm of children on Christmas morning, I realized this was what I'd been missing all along. Not just a nest, but the choice to make it mine. Not just a pack, but the freedom to shape our bonds on my own terms, to be an active participant rather than a grateful recipient.
The stress from my mother's visit, from the public scrutiny that followed us everywhere, from constantly defending our choices to people who would never understand them, it all melted away as we worked together to integrate my selections into the existing nest. By the time the sun set, painting everything in golden light, the space had transformed. Still sophisticated, still carefully designed, but now unmistakably ours, not just theirs.
"Thank you," I said, looking around at my pack, my chosen family, these five people who'd somehow become my entireworld. "For understanding what I needed even when I didn't know how to ask for it."
"Always," they said in unison, and I believed them.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Callie
The heat hit differently this time.
By comparison the scent matched heat that I'd been thrown into when I met Nova at StreamCon was a gradual build, waves rolling through me with some warning, at least enough time for me to get out of there, whereas this one struck like lightning. One moment I was arranging the new silk pillowcases we'd bought at The Cozy Corner, running my fingers over the luxurious fabric and thinking about how much more comfortable our nest would be, and the next I was on my knees, gasping as fire raced through every nerve ending simultaneously.
"Fuck!" The word tore from my throat as my entire body clenched, muscles seizing with an intensity that would have terrified me if I could think past the overwhelmingneed. It felt like every suppressant I'd ever taken was being burned out of my system at once, years of artificial control dissolving in seconds.
Except they'd been out of my system for a while now at this point.
Still, it was the only comparison I could think to make. I had a brief millisecond to wonder if this is what Kara felt likewhen she went into heat on stream before the sensations rocked through me again.
