Page 152 of Pack Frenzy
Heat flashes through her scent, quick and sharp. Her lashes flutter. Eli pretends he doesn’t notice, but the corner of his mouth tips up.
Rowan sits on the edge of the nest, close enough that his knee brushes Jess’s calf. His hand finds her ankle, big fingers wrapping around the fragile line of bone, thumb rubbing slow, grounding circles there.
“How’s your head?” he asks. “Fog? Nausea? Any spikes?”
“Foggy,” she admits. “Like the roller coaster finally stopped, but my stomach hasn’t caught up yet.”
“Four-day and a day roller coaster,” Eli adds. “World record for a first-time heat, would not recommend to amateurs unless they’re you.”
Jess’s laugh is quiet but real. It vibrates against my chest, a sound I could get addicted to.
Rowan’s eyes lighten, tension easing out of his shoulders. “You still remember you can say no?” he asks. “Even if your body tries to override it. That doesn’t stop mattering just because the worst is over.”
Jess looks at him, then at Eli, then at me. One, two, three. She’s tired, but this part, she takes seriously.
“I know,” she says. Her voice is small but steady. “I can say no. I will if I need to. Right now I…” She swallows. “I’m good. With you. With this. “And I remember: red, yellow, green. I’ve been green the whole time. Solidly green. Now I’m more... yellow territory. Need to tap out for a bit.”
Something tightens under my sternum. Eli exhales, long and shaky, like he’s been holding that breath for days. Rowan dips his head, forehead brushing Jess’s shin for a second in a silent yes.
Her hand slips off the bottle and lands back over my heart like it belongs there. It thuds hard in response, idiot thing.
Exhaustion pulls at her features, dragging her eyes half-closed again. She fights it, stubborn little line between her brows.
“Sleep,” I tell her, smoothing a hand up and down her spine. “You’re done. You did good.”
“M’not tired,” she lies. Her blinking slows. Her body melts heavier into mine anyway.
“Liar,” Eli says gently. He reaches over and brushes tangled hair away from her face, fingers light. “We’ve got you. Nest isn’t going anywhere.”
Her lips move around my name, messy and slurred. “Cassian…”
“Yeah,” I keep my voice low, softer than I mean to. “I’m here.”
“I…” The rest of the sentence dissolves into a sigh.
She finally tips over the edge. Her muscles sag, truly slack for the first time since this started. Breathing deep. Scent going syrupy-soft, no edge, no spike. Out.
“Okay,” Rowan says quietly. Work mode now. “We should clean up what we can without moving her too much. She needs rest. And actual food when she wakes.”
“I’ll hit the kitchen,” Eli volunteers immediately. “Something bland. And coffee. And like…five more gallons of water.”
He squeezes Jess’s shoulder once, presses a quick kiss to her temple, and untangles himself from the nest, but she doesn’t stir. He pads out, humming under his breath, energy crackling off him now that the worst of the pressure’s gone.
Rowan stands to toss empty bottles and wrappers in the trash and straighten the pile of blankets. Efficient. Controlled. His hand keeps brushing Jess’s ankle every time he passes, like he can’t not touch her.
I stay put.
She’s sprawled half over me, one arm across my ribs, face buried against my chest. Moving her feels like trying to lift a whole building without scaffolding.
Rowan comes back to the side of the nest and meets my eyes. “You good to hold her while I put clean sheets on her bed in case she wants it instead of the nest now?” he asks.
“Got her,” I say.
I cage Jess to me, one arm banded around her back, the other under her knees. Rowan strips the mattress and swaps in fresh bedding. Most of her covers are wrapped around her nest.
When he’s done, he sits again, closer this time, knees bumping my hip. His hand rests lightly on Jess’s shin.
“Thank you,” he says, voice rougher than usual.
