Page 41 of Puck Your Charity

Gripping the key, I hesitate for a second. I take a ragged breath and make the conscious choice to drop my armor.

I set the key on the marble island.

Malcolm picks the metal up and slips it into his pocket. "I've got it covered. Come on. Let's get you settled into a room."

Following Malcolm out of the kitchen, I walk down a wide hallway. Finn and Lawrence trail behind us. We pass a sprawling living room and head down a long corridor. The floors switch from dark hardwood to plush carpet.

"This is the east wing." Malcolm speaks over his shoulder. "We sleep on the opposite side of the house. You have this entire section to yourself."

He pushes open a thick oak door at the end of the hall. He steps aside, letting me walk in first.

The bedroom looks like a suite at a five-star hotel. A huge king-sized bed dominates the center of the room. Thick velvet curtains frame wide windows. An open doorway leads to an attached bathroom of white marble.

Finn stands in the hallway. He stays out of the room, respecting the boundary. "Get some sleep, Olive."

They pull the thick oak door shut. The latch clicks into place.

Absolute quiet wraps around me. I take three steps into the room and drop my duffel bag on the carpet. My knees buckle. I kick my boots off and peel my stiff denim jeans down my legs, kicking them aside. Sleeping in street clothes sounds like torture. Leaving my oversized sweater and underwear on, I crawl up the mattress and crash into the pillows.

The plush bedding feels like a cloud.

Sleep drags me under. The dark, dreamless void swallows my exhaustion. I stay buried in that deep oblivion for hours, dead to the world, letting my battered body shut down and repair itself.

When I crack my eyes open again, sunlight filters through the thick blackout curtains. The dim morning glow paints the room in soft shadows. April weather warms the air outside, signaling the start of a new season.

Waking up brings a brand new nightmare.

The suppressants wore out of my system while I slept. Sleeping in a warm, secure house after days of freezing in a cramped car stripped away my remaining stress.

My body feels safe. A safe body stops fighting the inevitable.

The late-presenting Omega Heat crashes into me hard and fast. The "Bunnies in Spring" jokes the nurses used to tell make terrifying sense now.

I kick the duvet off my legs.

My skin burns. A fever cooks my blood, turning my veins into liquid fire. I pant through my open mouth.

A thick flood of slick pours from my center. It coats my inner thighs and dampens the expensive cotton sheets. The raw, desperate ache in my pelvis turns into a demanding throb. My clit swells, aching for friction. My breasts feel hypersensitive. The fabric of my oversized sweater grazing my nipples sends agonizing jolts of electricity straight down to my core.

I need a nest.

A frantic, restless energy consumes my mind. I scramble off the mattress, my bare feet hitting the plush carpet just long enough to raid the room.

I run to the closet and pull down three extra wool blankets. I throw them onto the king-sized bed.

I drag the duvet into a thick ring around the edges. I stack the large down pillows to form a protective wall, enclosing thecenter. I pull the wool blanket over my shoulders, sinking into the middle of the soft fortress.

It feels wrong.

A frustrated whine tears from my throat. I punch the nearest pillow.

The nest smells like fresh laundry detergent. Building a proper nest requires an Alpha's scent. I need their worn t-shirts and discarded hoodies to weave into the blankets, but I have no way to raid their laundry right now. I lack my own belongings to anchor my chaotic brain, too, since the moving crew hasn't delivered my boxes yet.

The absence of a proper nest throws my heat into a vicious spiral.

I need an Alpha. My body screams for the men skating on the ice across town. I crave the crisp ozone. I want the rich cedar. I need the bite of black pepper and the fresh juniper. I used to think they wore a custom team cologne, but knowing those potent pheromones come straight from their skin makes the craving a thousand times worse. The absence of their scent leaves a gaping hole in my chest.

I strip the oversized sweater over my head and toss it onto the carpet. I kick my ruined underwear off, leaving me naked in the middle of the useless blankets.