Page 8 of Heat Clickbait
No. Focus.
The black SUV pulled up to the curb with tires squealing, and I yanked the door open before it fully stopped. Nova lifted Callie like she weighed nothing, his business casual somehow making the gesture look both protective and possessive. He deposited her in the middle row, and she immediately curled into herself, arms wrapped around her stomach, those pink strands of hair stuck to her neck with sweat that made her eyeliner run in streaks down her cheeks.
"Don't leave," she gasped, hand shooting out to grab Nova's wrist with surprising strength. Her neon manicure was alreadychipped from nervous picking, but her grip was desperate. "Please. I can’t, the smell, if you leave I'll?—"
Nova looked at me over her head, and I saw my own recognition reflected in his dark eyes. This wasn't just pre-heat. This was something else, something more intense and dangerous. The kind of biological imperative that destroyed carefully built careers and created tabloid headlines and changed lives in ways that couldn't be undone with clever PR.
"We're not leaving," he said, climbing in beside her without hesitation. "Ghost, can you?—"
I was already moving to the driver's seat, muscle memory taking over. Our hired driver looked confused but didn't argue when I gestured for him to get out. Too many variables with a stranger behind the wheel. Too many ways this could spiral completely out of control.
The others piled in, Milo diving into the back and Blitz flanking Callie in the middle row while Crash took shotgun, immediately pulling up damage control on his phone. The moment the doors closed with that satisfying click of German engineering, her scent intensified in the enclosed space. Safety glass and metal between us and the world, and suddenly there was nowhere for those pheromones to go except into our lungs, our bloodstream, our rapidly deteriorating self-control.
"Fuck me," Crash breathed, knuckles white where he gripped the dashboard hard enough to leave marks. "That’s—Boss, that's not normal. That's not even close to?—"
"Drive." Nova's voice came out rough, almost unrecognizable, stripped of its usual cultured polish. In the rearview mirror, I saw him fighting every instinct in his Alpha DNA. Callie had pressed herself against his side, her face buried in his chest, and his hands hovered over her trembling form like he didn't trust himself to actually make contact.
I pulled away from the curb, muscle memory navigating while my conscious mind processed the ongoing biological crisis in my vehicle. The GPS cheerfully announced fifteen minutes to our destination if traffic cooperated. Fifteen minutes of being trapped in a metal box with pheromones that made my own carefully maintained control slip with each breath.
"Window," Callie gasped, her voice muffled against Nova's shirt. "Need air. Can't breathe. Too many scents, everything's too much."
Milo cracked his window immediately, and the fresh air helped for exactly three seconds before city smells, exhaust, fast food, other people's lives, made her gag violently. He closed it just as fast, murmuring apologies while she shuddered like she was coming apart at the seams.
"Her temperature's spiking." Blitz had his hand on her forehead, the gesture tender despite his obvious struggle with his own biology. His eyes were already dilated, his breathing carefully controlled. "This is happening too fast. Normal heat takes hours to build, not minutes. This is like watching a dam break."
I took the next corner harder than necessary, tires squealing against asphalt. In my peripheral vision, I saw Crash typing frantically on his phone, thumbs moving almost too fast to track.
"Michelle's handling the media," he reported, his usual manic energy focused into something useful. "Says to get her somewhere safe and she'll spin it as a planned marketing stunt. Apparently, we're 'exploring collaborative opportunities in a controlled environment.'" He made air quotes with one hand while still typing. "Also, she's threatening to sue anyone who posts footage without consent."
Callie laughed, or maybe sobbed. Hard to tell the difference when her whole body was shaking. "My manager's already…already lying for me. Perfect. My whole brand is built on honesty and she's?—"
"Your brand is about survival," Nova cut her off gently, his accent thick with something that might have been tenderness. "Right now, that means getting you somewhere safe where you can fall apart properly."
"I built everything on not needing this." Her voice cracked, and I heard the tears starting in earnest. "Not needing Alphas. Not needing pack. Not ending up like—" She stopped herself, but we all heard what she didn't say. Like her mother. Like every cautionary tale about Omegas who lost control in public. Everyone who worked in the media knew the story, and no one who was polite would mention it if they weren’t directly involved.
The traffic light ahead turned. I ran it without hesitation.
"Ghost," Nova warned, but I ignored him. Every second in this car was torture for all of us, but especially for her. Her heat scent had moved past enticing into desperate, the kind of biological SOS that made rational thought impossible. My own body was responding despite every wall I'd built. My heart rate was elevated, and I knew without looking that my pupils were dilated, the beginning stirrings of something I hadn't felt since my first pack died in twisted metal and broken glass.
No. Focus on driving. Focus on getting her safe.
"It hurts," Callie whimpered, and every Alpha in the car made the same pained sound in response. A harmony of distress that would have been beautiful under different circumstances. "Why does it hurt so much? This isn't… I've had heats before, this isn't normal. It feels like my skin's on fire and freezing at the same time."
"True mate response." Milo's voice was strained but certain, his usual easy confidence replaced by something raw. "It'sdifferent when you find your pack. Everything's amplified. Your body recognizes us as?—"
"Don't." She cut him off with surprising vehemence. "Don't say it. If you say it out loud, it becomes real, and I can't, I'm not ready for it to be real."
Another red light. This time I stopped, because the cross traffic was too heavy and getting arrested wouldn't help anyone. Callie made a sound like she was dying, her whole body convulsing in waves that made every protective instinct I had scream for action.
"How much longer?" Blitz asked through gritted teeth.
I held up five fingers.
"I can't," Callie gasped, her words coming in broken fragments. "Five minutes, I can't, it's too, everything's too much. Your scents. All of you. It's like drowning but also like flying, and I can't breathe, but I can't stop breathing, and I?—"
Nova made a decision that probably violated a dozen consent protocols. He pulled her fully into his lap, and the moment their bodies aligned properly, she went liquid. The keening sound she'd been making stopped, replaced by something that was absolutely not appropriate for a car full of people, but none of us could bring ourselves to care about propriety when she was clearly suffering.
"Better?" Nova's question came out as a growl, his businessman facade completely shattered.
