32. Zara

After my second cool shower of the day, while Mia is napping, I blow out a breath as I stare at my still-flushed face in the mirror on the dressing table in my bedroom.

"What the hell is this?" I murmur, only because I'm trying to convince myself it's anything but what it is. But I'm a twenty-three-year-old omega who has known exactly what she was since her first heat five years ago. I'm in my pre-heat. This isn't due for another three fucking weeks.

These alphas are messing with my biology, and it has fucked me off on a scale of where one is good, and ten is bad; this is a million.

"Alpha assholes," I moan. "Fucking alpha-holes. That's what you all are."

Dropping my face into my hands, I gulp and decide to play dumb for a day or so. Maybe it's a false start from all the emotions, and my active heat won't actually appear yet. There is no point in getting Susan to uproot her life on the off chance that this is the real deal. Not yet, anyway.

I pinch my nose as I can smell the scent of lavender wafting about. The guys are going to know.

Sprinting down the stairs and into the living room, frantically lighting the vanilla-scented candles I've spotted and spraying air freshener like there's no tomorrow, I'm desperate to mask my natural scent. My body betrays me as my pre-heat starts to kick it up a notch, a searing warmth spreading throughout me that I am not yet ready to reveal to Liam and Ben.

The washing machine beeps to announce it has finished its cycle of Mia's baby clothes, so I gratefully abandon the stench in the lounge for the kitchen and empty the washer into the basket. The day is warm, and a soft breeze is blowing, so I bypass the dryer and head out to the back garden to peg out.

When I'm done, I give the rotary line a spin, feeling like a kid, but it brings a smile to my face to see the clothes waving about in the breeze. Heading back inside, I hear a noise through the baby monitor, so I head upstairs to see to Mia.

I freeze on the spot, my heart doing somersaults when I see that it wasn't Mia who alerted the sensitive monitor. It's Henry. He's standing in the spare bedroom, the one right at the top of the stairs, surrounded by a sea of boxes and bags. He looks up, his gaze locking onto mine with that familiar, easy smile.

"Hey, Zara," he says, as if it's the most natural thing in the world to be here, moving into the spare room without a word of warning.

These alphas are fucking me off with this! Not that Ben owes me any explanation. This is his house, and I work in it; I just also happen to live in it by the nature of the job.

"Hi, Henry. You're moving in too?"

"Yep. The more incomes, the merrier."

I nod, getting it instantly. Ben needs this, so who am I to grumble?

The thought of adding another alpha to this already heady situation sends a shiver down my spine. I should feel cornered, but instead, I feel a strange thrill at the prospect.

"Guess we're going to have to work up a shower schedule," I murmur.

"I'm easy. Most days, anyway," he says as Mia wakes up now, and I need to tend to her. He waves me off without another word, and I leave him to it, heading into the nursery. Mia is still not well and doesn't even wait for her bottle before she dozes back off. All the talking must've woken her up.

Making sure she's settled, I retreat to my sanctuary. My room needs to be a place where I can keep my thoughts straight, especially now. Without even a second thought about what I'm doing, I gather my nesting materials. Throwing the duvet on the floor in the darkest corner of the room, I look around. The blanket Henry gave me is first - it's soft, plush, and the most comforting thing I own. I pile on more blankets, each one adding another layer of security. Pillows come next, fluffy and inviting, creating a fortress of comfort around me.

As I arrange and rearrange the blankets, making sure every corner feels just right, there's a sense of pride swelling within me. This is my space, my haven, and no matter how messed up the world gets, this nest is mine to control, to find solace in. It's soft and warm, a shield against the world and the unexpected turns it seems to enjoy throwing my way.

I'm fluffing up the last of the pillows when his scent hits me, like a clean shirt pulled straight from the line on a sunny day after being washed in bergamot washing powder. It's unmistakable, its citrusy edge cutting through the floral haze in my room.

I sit there for a moment, pillow in hand, as Henry's scent wraps around me. It's like he's here, in this room, not just moving his stuff into the spare bedroom down the hall. I try to shake my head clear, to focus on the nest I've been so carefully constructing, but it's no good. The more I try to concentrate on arranging the blankets just right, the more I become aware of his presence—like he's a ghost haunting the edges of my senses.

A river of lava runs through my core. I'm not sure if it's from excitement or something else. There's no denying it anymore. In my pre-heat state, Henry's scent is getting to me, weaving its way through my defences, stirring things inside that I'm not ready to face.

And then, without warning, my heat slams into me.

It's like being plunged into too-hot, deep water without a chance to take a breath. My heart beats rapidly, thudding against my ribs so fiercely it makes me dizzy. The cramps in my womb make me gasp for the breath that isn't there, and that deep ache pulses to life between my legs, insistent and demanding attention, needing a knot.

"Fuck," I rasp, clutching the pillow tighter. I press my thighs together, trying to quell the sudden, maddening throb and gush of slick that has soaked my knickers. It's no use, though. Every cell in my body seems to be vibrating, responding to the invisible call of Henry's scent.

My mind races, thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind, all of them trailing back to him. The crisp bergamot, the clean freshness of linen—it's everywhere, suffusing the air, filling my lungs, making it hard to think about anything else. But it's not just that. I glance out the window to see if the rain has started and is hitting the warm ground outside. It hasn't. It's as sunny as it was a few minutes ago.

"Liam," I moan softly and drop to the floor as Ben's scent of fresh pinecones hits the back of my nose. All of a sudden, the scents have surrounded me, are taunting me, haunting me, even.

"Breathe," I mutter, trying to find even a sliver of control. I take a deep lungful of air, gasping for breath, but it's a big mistake. Their scents cling to my senses, potent and intoxicating, sending a clear message to my body that's getting harder and harder to ignore.

Crawling to my nest, stripping my clothes off as I go, I sink into it, hot, fuzzy-headed and aching, surrounded by my fortress of softness, yet feeling entirely vulnerable.

"Zara?" Henry's voice cuts through the haze of my heat.

I open my mouth to speak, but it is too dry. "Mia!" I suddenly croak, ripping the word from my throat.

"What?" Henry asks, pounding on the door at my panic. "Zara, are you okay?"

I try to answer, but I can't. I need to get to my phone to ring Susan to come over and make sure Mia is taken care of.

Sitting up, the room spins, and I let out a low moan as I sink back.

Two minutes. I need two minutes.

"Zara?" Henry knocks again. "Zara, you're worrying me. I'm coming in."

"No, wait!" I call out in panic, scrambling with the blankets to cover up my red-hot naked body.

He steps into the sanctuary of my room. My breath hitches as his scent intensifies, wrapping around me like a warm blanket. There's no hiding now; he knows.

Henry stops as if he's walked into a brick wall as my scent hits him in the face as much as his is doing to me.

"Stay there," I croak.

"Zara..." His voice trails off, and when I dare to look up, I see the understanding in his eyes, the raw edge of his restraint. He's like a statue, every muscle taut as if he's fighting his natural instincts with everything he's got.

"Sorry, I—I thought you were…" He trails off, unable to tear his eyes away from me.

"Please, just stay there," I plead, gesturing at the imaginary line he mustn't cross. We're playing with fire here, and neither of us has a drop of water to spare.

"Okay," he nods, but he doesn't move back. Instead, he stands firm, like he's the only thing keeping the world from spinning off its axis. Our eyes meet and every nerve ending in my body sparks to life. He's so close, too close, and all I want is to close that gap.

"Zara," he breathes out, and it's like he's saying more than just my name. It's a question, a plea, a temptation all rolled into one.

"Don't," I whisper fiercely because if he says anything else, I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself from leaping across this chasm of desire.

He clenches his jaw, eyes darkening, but he respects my wish. "I'm here if you need me," he says, an unsaid offer hanging between us, charged with the potential to shatter our carefully constructed boundaries.

He steps back, and my body cries out for him. I don't even know why. I barely know him, and yet his unexpected presence has literally thrown me into my heat.

"Mia," I murmur. "I can't…"

"Don't worry about Mia," he mutters. "Can I get you anything?"

I shake my head, hoping he knows to ring Ben because I can't talk anymore. I'm too far gone now.

Henry leaves quietly, and closing my eyes, I picture his face, the unresolved tension swirling between us. We're both caught up in this; steps dictated by rules we're struggling to abide by.