Page 74 of The Knotheads Next Door
But I can't. Not yet. Not like this, when my hormones are clouding judgment and blurring boundaries.
"I need to think," I manage, pulling away from Wells's touch with effort. "Alone."
I retreat to my room, locking the door behind me, though a flimsy lock would do little to stop three determined alphas if they chose to push the issue. That they don't—that they respect my need for space even as their instincts must be screaming to protect and claim—only makes the ache in my chest grow stronger.
Alone in my room, the heat intensifies, building like a storm. I curl on the bed, shaking with need, fighting the urge to call out for them. To beg for their touch, their scent, their presence.
I've spent my whole life fighting my biology—the uncertainty of being latent, the medical tests, the awkward explanations. I've defined myself by my independence, my ability to handle things alone.
But as another wave of heat washes over me, bringing with it an almost painful emptiness, I wonder if independence is worth the cost of denying what my body—what my heart—so clearly wants.
The combined scents of three alphas seep under the door, around the frame, through the very walls of this old house. Pine and sandalwood and bergamot. Jasper and Theo and Wells. Each distinct, each compelling, each calling to something in me that recognizes them as right. As mine.
I press my face into the pillow, muffling a sound that's half sob, half whimper.
Six days left in my trial month. Six days until I'm supposed to leave.
But at this moment, with heat coursing through my veins and the scent of three perfect alphas surrounding me, I can't imagine ever wanting to go.
Chapter 22
Jasper
Every cell in my body is on high alert, muscles coiled tight, senses heightened to an almost painful degree. I pace the length of the living room, turn, pace back. Again. Again. The repetitive movement does nothing to ease the tension building under my skin.
Upstairs, Rowan is suffering. Alone. By choice, yes, but that doesn't make it any easier to bear. Her scent permeates the entire house now—sweet and ripe and desperate in a way that calls to something primal in me. In all of us.
Theo sits on the couch, outwardly calm but I can smell the anxiety rolling off him in waves. His leg bounces in a nervous rhythm, the only visible sign of his distress.
Wells stands by the window, his back straight, his expression carefully controlled as he stares out at nothing. But the white-knuckled grip he has on his coffee mug betrays him.
"This is ridiculous," I finally snap, unable to contain the frustration any longer. "She's in heat. A first heat. She shouldn't be alone."
"She asked for space," Wells counters, not turning from the window. "We need to respect that."
I growl, the sound rumbling unbidden from my chest. "She doesn't know what she needs. She's never done this before."
"And you have?" Wells finally turns, one eyebrow raised in challenge. "Experienced a first heat?"
"No, but I've been around enough omegas to know—"
"This isn't about other omegas," Theo interrupts, his voice gentle but firm. "This is about Rowan. Who has made it very clear she values her independence."
"Independence won't help her when she's delirious with fever," I argue. "This isn't just about comfort, it's about safety. First heats can be dangerous, especially at her age."
This gets Theo's attention. As the only one of us with any sort of medical training -- even if it’s for cats--, he understands the physiological risks better than either Wells or I.
"He's not wrong," Theo admits reluctantly. "Dehydration, hormone spikes, disorientation... there are legitimate health concerns."
"So we what—break down her door? Force our help on her?" Wells shakes his head. "That's not the answer."
"No one's suggesting force," Theo clarifies quickly. "But maybe one of us should check on her. Offer water, food, reassurance that we're here if she needs us."
I open my mouth to volunteer, then close it again. Of the three of us, I'm the worst choice right now. My control is hanging by a thread, my alpha instincts screaming to protect, to claim, to mate. Rowan doesn't need that energy anywhere near her vulnerable state.
"I'll go," Theo offers, already standing. "I can approach it from a medical perspective. Keep it clinical."
Wells nods in agreement, but I'm not satisfied. Clinical isn't what Rowan needs right now. She doesn't need a doctor. She needs...
