CHAPTER 4: HEAT

Everyone one, including me is stunned by his words and the triplet Alphas glance at each other.

“No,” Nyall says first.

“We accept her,” Fenric adds.

“She’s our mate,” Orien finishes. “Nothing changes that.”

Immediately the bond pulses in my chest and I feel strangely happy because of it.

My mates are still hovering around me when suddenly, my skin itches beneath the layers of my robe.

It feels like hot air is licking along my spine right under my flesh.

I try to stand up, steadying myself on my own knees but my fingers miss, tremble, then curl uselessly into the air.

A breath catches in my throat and my core suddenly tightens violently, and my legs give out under me again.

“Oh moon—” I gasp, stumbling down into a crouch position.

It hits me so hard that I gasp again.

It feels like heat but then it feels nothing like the scrolls described.

This doesn't feel painful at all, it feels violent.

It all happens so fast; my scent fills into the air and hot, needy slick begins soaking my thighs.

Then every single Alpha in the courtyard freezes and their nostrils flare.

From the corner of my eyes I can see some letting their wolf out through their eyes.

“Oh goddess,” I choke, hugging my body with my hands to cover myself and hide my scent, but there’s nothing to hide.

My body’s already shamelessly disgracing me publicly and heat floods my panties, dripping past my thighs, down to my legs.

As quickly as I forgot my mates due to the pain, the wave of heat running through me makes me remember and want for them.

I look up to see them all at once; Nyall’s fists clenched at his sides while his jaw ticks.

Fenric's pupils go pitch-black and his chest heave in ragged breath.

Orien licks his lips slowly, dragging his tongue across his lower lip like he’s already tasting me.

A gutteral growl rumbles off Fenric’s chest. “Mine.”

“Back off,” Nyall snarls beside him. “She’s mine first.”

“She’s ours,” Orien says huskily.

“We share.”

“No— don’t—” My voice comes out raspy and desperate.

“Please…”

Nyall’s hand stretches toward me first, brushing his fingers against my shoulder, causing sparks to erupt across my skin and I moan helplessly.

However Fenric yanks Nyall back and snarls, “She needs strength, not your soft touches.”

“You’ll scare her,” Orien growls. “She’s in heat, she needs gentleness.”

“No!” I scream.

But the sound gets lost in the roar that starts coming from the pack members around.

I had forgotten we were still in the courtyard.

The entire pack begins shouting in confusion and some begin backing away from us while others stare with horrified looks on their faces.

“She’s an Omega—”

“She’s in heat—”

“She’s about to be claimed right here!”

“Make them stop!!”

But no dared to even move to do anything; an Alpha would kill whoever went near his mate when she was in heat.

I have three Alpha mates, stronger than the entire pack members, so no one wanted to be ripped to pieces.

The triplets are circling me now, surrounding me while their scents crash over me— dark cedar, scorched spice, wild pine— filling my nostrils even stronger than before and my womb clenches so violently that I whimper and fall to sit on the ground.

“Iryn.” Nyall calls, bending down to sit beside me. “Let us help you. Let us—”

“No!” I sob, shaking my head, but my hips betray me, arching up to them instinctively.

Osen gets down as well and strokes my face, while Nyall moves behind me, burying his head in my neck.

Both growl as they take in my scent again and my juices leak some more.

I pant, gasping and aching as Osen and Nyall's hands travel down my shoulders and cup my breasts, both taking one for themselves.

I gasp again but it breaks into a string of moans when they knead my sensitive breasts and I buckle, arching my hips up higher as Fenric parts my thighs open.

“Look at her,” Fenric growls.

“She wants it. She’s ready to be knotted—”

“STOP!”

Lord Alpha Theron's voice booms through the courtyard and releases his aura, slamming it down hard enough that it pushes even the triplets back away from me due to the force of it.

They growl loudly, snapping out their claws as they turn.

“Control yourselves,” Lord Alpha Theron says, snarling back at them and crossing into the ceremonial circle with Elder Merrin and two warriors at his sides.

“This is a public gathering, not a mating pit!”

“She’s in heat!” Fenric roars, baring his teeth at him, not caring that it's his father, all he knew was someone was stopping him from mating with his mate.

“She’s ours,” Orien snarls. “We were chosen—”

“Not like this!” Lord Alpha Theron yells.

“This is not how fated bonds are consummated!! This is madness!!!”

He points to me, trembling on the ground, soaked in scents and shame. “Look at her. She’s a girl terrified out of her mind.”

The triplets hesitate, then Nyall goes back to me, dropping to his knees beside me, “She needs us.”

“I said stand down!” Lord Alpha Theron thunders.

“This is an order.”

I don't know if the Lord Alpha is actually being concerned of my wellbeing or he's still just not happy about his sons mating with me at all.

However, the Elders start chanting words in their native tongue and the triplets flinch while their muscles tense.

Nyall is ripped off me by an invisible force and all three of them growls in protest as invisible restraints tighten around their bodies to keep them away from me.

I sob, still shaking and unable to move while my thighs, still wet with slick, tremble.

“You fools,” Elder Merrin hisses, glancing at me with a mix of pity and fear.

“The Omega’s bond is unstable, her heat shouldn’t have come yet. Not unless…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence and the Lord Alpha glares at him. “Don’t say it.”

But I somehow understand what he means; this isn’t normal, an Omega goes into heat only after a full two days are gone after meeting her mate.

For Betas and Alphas, it's after a week.

The High Priestess goes to stand beside me and with her hands, she gently but urgently helps me stand to my feet.

However, my legs won’t work properly, and my core is still pulsing with need and want for my mates.

“She must be taken to the sacred chambers,” the High Priestess announces.

“Before this escalates again.”

“She’s mine—”

“She belongs to us—”

“Touch her again and I’ll rip your throat out!”

The triplets’ voices overlap, in both desire and rage but Alpha Lord Theron doesn't bother arguing with them this time.

He nods to the warriors. “Take her now.”

Hands wrap around me, dragging me back through the crowd as the triplets thrash violently in the place, held down by the Elders’ spellwork.

“Iryn!” Nyall roars.

“Don’t take her from us!!” Orien shouts.

“Get yours hands off my mate!!!” Fenric growls loudly, struggling against the restraint while the veins in his neck bulge.

Their voices ring in my ears as I’m pulled inside the palace, my body limp and drenched in fevered need.

The door slams shut behind us and I'm placed, collapsed into the healer’s arms, too tired to cry and too aroused to think or breathe properly.

And yet through the bond I can hear them.

"Mine."

"Mine."

"Mine!"