Page 72 of The Knotheads Next Door
Breathe, Rowan. Just breathe.
I make it back to my room, where the concentrated scent of omega in pre-heat helps mask the alpha pheromones permeating the rest of the house. I dress carefully—loose clothing, multiple layers of blockers, hair up off my neck to keep cool.
In the mirror, I look almost normal. A bit flushed, perhaps, eyes a little too bright, but nothing that screams "omega in heat."
I can do this.
Downstairs, all three alphas are in the kitchen—an unusual occurrence in itself. Typically at least one of them is gone by this hour, off to work or the gym or wherever alphas go to burn excess energy.
They look up in unison as I enter, and the weight of their combined attention makes my skin prickle with awareness.
"Morning," I manage, my voice impressively steady as I head for the coffee pot. Act normal. Just act normal.
"You're moving slow today," Jasper observes, his eyes tracking my movements with an intensity that both thrills and terrifies me.
"Late night," I lie, pouring coffee with hands that only shake a little. "Festival prep."
Theo approaches, concern evident in his expression. "Rowan, are you feeling alright? You seem... warm."
I step back quickly, avoiding his touch. If he feels how hot my skin is, there will be no denying what's happening. "I'm fine. Just running behind. Is there any more creamer?"
Wells wordlessly passes the creamer from his place at the island, his movements deliberately casual, though his nostrils flare slightly. He knows. They all know. Blockers or no blockers, there's no hiding the change in my scent.
"You should probably stay home today," Theo suggests gently. "If you're not feeling well."
"I'm fine," I insist, more sharply than intended. "Crystal's expecting me. First day of the festival, we'll be swamped with corsage orders."
"Rowan—" Jasper starts, his voice carrying a warning note that makes my omega instincts sit up and take notice.
"I said I'm fine," I cut him off, grabbing my coffee and backing toward the door. "I need to get ready."
I retreat upstairs, my heart pounding, my body torn between fleeing and submitting. Neither instinct is welcome.
Once safely in my room, I call Crystal, inventing a stomach bug that will keep me from work. She's understanding but busy, the conversation brief enough that she doesn't notice the strain in my voice.
Next, I try to book a hotel room. Any hotel room, at this point. But it's the first day of the Harvest Festival, and Vineyard Groves is packed with tourists. Every hotel, motel, and B&B within twenty miles is completely booked.
Time for Plan B. Get out of town entirely. Find the nearest omega clinic that offers heat rooms. I search on my phone, finding a facility about an hour away. I have no idea if they are even equipped for someone like me. Everything I’ve been taught about heat clinics is that they are designed for establishedomegas with regular cycles, not for latent adults experiencing their first full heat. But it's better than nothing.
I pack a small bag with essentials, grateful that Gerald is old enough now to be left with the guys for a couple of days. I'll text them from the road, explain that I had an emergency, that I'll be back when...
When what? When this is over? When I'm no longer a mess of need and confusion? When I can look at them without wanting to bare my throat to them and beg?
I shake the thought away, focusing on practical matters. Keys. Wallet. Water. I'll need to stop for supplies on the way, things to help me through this alone.
The room spins when I stand up too quickly. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision, and suddenly the floor is rushing up to meet me—
Strong arms catch me before I hit the ground. Theo. His scent surrounds me, sandalwood and cotton and alpha, and my body responds instantly, melting against him with a whimper I can't suppress.
"Whoa, easy," he says, his voice low and soothing despite the tension I can feel in his arms.
"I've got you."
I should pull away. I know I should. But he feels so good—so right—and my omega is practically purring at the contact.
"I'm fine," I say for what feels like the hundredth time today, though the tremor in my voice makes the lie obvious. "Just stood up too fast."
Theo helps me to the bed, keeping his movements clinical, professional. The vet handling a distressed animal. It should be comforting. Instead, it makes me want to scream.’
