Tyler catches it half a second later, eyes widening. "Oh."
Calder's arm tightens around my waist again. "It's starting."
Warmth floods my core, no longer just simmering but beginning to boil. Not just attraction anymore, biology kicking into gear properly for the first time. Skin hypersensitive to every point of contact. Scent spiking from honey-green to something urgent and demanding that fills the greenhouse.
All three of them react. Postures shifting, attention sharpening, alpha instincts responding to omega in pre-heat the way evolution designed them to respond.
Calder’s eyes meet mine. "What do you need?"
"Need to get to the heat suite. Before this gets worse and I can't walk properly."
I reserved one last week, when my heat was approaching and the pack was still whole. Thank god for Julian's practical reminders about paperwork.
My legs already feel unsteady, heat approaching faster than I expected. Stress and pack reunion and emotional resolution all conspiring to accelerate the timeline.
"I'll grab supplies from the health center," Julian says. "Water, electrolytes, protein supplements."
"I'll clear your schedule, let your professors know you're in heat," Tyler adds, pulling out his phone.
Calder: "I'll stay with you. Help you get there safely." Then, checking one more time because that's who he is: "Is that okay?"
"Yes. All of you. Please."
The walk from the greenhouse to the building passes in a surreal haze.
Calder supports most of my weight, one arm around my waist, taking the burden as my legs grow increasingly unreliable. Tyler runs ahead like a scout, clearing the path toward the omega-specific residence building. Julian's already texting confirmation about Suite 3B.
"Reserved it last week," I manage between waves of heat. "When you helped with the paperwork."
Julian's brief smile. “Least I could do to help.”
Other students notice. Impossible not to when an omega in pre-heat walks through campus with three alphas orbiting her.
People clear the path instinctively, biology recognizing what's happening. Some envious looks from omegas without pack support. Some curious stares from betas unused to seeing this dynamic. A few alphas track us with interest until Calder's warning growl makes them look away.
By the time we reach Suite 3B, I'm shaking. Temperature rising, scent flooding everything with pheromones that make thinking difficult.
All four of us inside. The door closes with finality, heavy, soundproofed,locked.
The suite is larger than my dorm room. Bedroom with king-sized bed, sitting area with couch, small kitchenette, bathroom. Space designed for exactly this situation.
Safe. Private. Ours for as long as heat lasts.
Calder helps me to the bed, movements gentle despite the protective instinct I can see fighting for control. Tyler adjusts the suite temperature cooler without being asked. Julian leaves and returns minutes later with arms full—water bottles, electrolyte drinks, protein bars, emergency heat supplies from the health center.
All of them moving with purpose. Pack in motion. Taking care of me.
"What if I can't think clearly?" The worry surfaces as heat symptoms intensify, rational thought starting to slip through my fingers like water. "What if I ask for something I don't actually want? What if?—"
Calder kneels beside the bed, eye level with me. "We'll check in. Constantly. Heat doesn't erase your ability to communicate."
"We stop if you say stop," Tyler adds from where he's organizing supplies.
Julian's practical contribution: "Consent doesn't disappear with biology. If anything, we'll be more careful during heat, not less."
"We've got you," they say almost in unison. "All of us."
"Pick a safe word," Julian suggests, always thinking ahead. "Something you'd never say otherwise. Something that cuts through any ambiguity."
