"Everybody decent in here? Adults adulting? Fully clothed?" The sharp Australian twang echoes around the room as the door cracks open.
Dellie bursts out laughing. "Sorry, Loz! We're decent."
Lauren Treloar, goddess of the screen, strides across the room and collapses on the sofa with a huff. Dellie turns in my arms and leans against my chest. God, it feels soright.
"Good, 'cuz if you lot had fucked on my formal couch without putting down a towel, we would be havingwords." Sheglares at us, but her eyes soften as they pass over Dellie. "Fuck, it smells like a fucking Victorian apothecary in here," she mutters.
Allen shifts uncomfortably, as James looks away and Zeke stares at the carpet. Seb, on the other hand, is grinning at her unabashedly. I try to suppress a smile, hiding my face in Dellie's hair.
"So. All good? The grown-ups in the room had a chat?"
I nod.
"Well, thank fuck for that, 'cuz there's still a few things we gotta discuss. Like my impending biological fucking crisis."
Allen gives his head a little shake, seemingly lodging his train of thought back into place. "Yes. Of course. We already discussed the refund and the breach of contract penalty, but you didn't say if you had alternative heat support available—"
A little crease flickers between her eye eyebrows. "Nobody who isn't fucking useless. You got any suggestions?"
Allen nods. "I've been reaching out to colleagues since yesterday morning. Only the trustworthy ones, of course."
She nods cleanly, her face firm. "Good."
"Let me just check for a moment." Allen pulls his phone from his pocket. His face falls. "Ah. Hm. One pack I was going to suggest, Pack Wiltshire—three alphas and two betas, we actually used to mentor them—they aren't available until next Wednesday."
He passes her his phone. "That's their pack summary. Four years on Heatseekers. Bakery-adjacent scent profile"
Dellie wriggles in my arms as she pulls her phone out of her pocket and flicks through her calendar. "Technically, it's doable, but you'll only have three or four days for aftercare and recovery before you're needed for the first read of the Second Designation Project in Manhattan." She sighs, scratching her head. "And you wouldn't get to nest with your heat support. Would your omega be okay with that?"
Her mouth is a firm line. "Let's put them on the maybe pile. Any other options?" She hands Allen back his phone.
"Yes… let me see… ah—oh, no. I reached out to Pack Bramble, but they have a meat-based scent profile, and I remember you mentioning that on your incompatible scent list…"
Lauren scrunches her nose. "Ew. Yep, skip them. And—better update that list to include pungent fucking medicine cabinet," she mutters, with humour in her voice.
Seb chuckles.
"Will do, Loz." Dellie's laughter vibrates through me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and read the new message.
My eyebrows shoot up. "Allen? Did you reach out to Pack Zed?"
"Yes, I did. Figured it was a long shot—"
"Leo just messaged me. Their omega season guest star pulled out at the last minute. Pack Zed can fly in tomorrow."
Dellie turns to Allen. "Pack Zed? Like,Heat HelpersPack Zed?" I can hear the concern in her voice.
He nods. "Yes. I wanted to make sure Lauren has support, and I know how hard last-minute bookings can be, so I wanted to cover all bases. And they are some of the best—"
"They have a frigging TV show." Dellie's voice is sharp. "Discretion matters. Especially after what happened last time—"
"Y'know," says Lauren, relaxing into the sofa, "after what happened last time… might be nice to reclaim the narrative."
Dellie freezes. "… you… sure?"
Lauren shrugs. "They're fucking hot. They give omegas the final cut. Pack scent profile of Earl Grey tea with spiced fig biscuits, right?"
