Chapter 25: The Call
The silence after Rhys left was a physical thing, thick and humming. Aurora stared at the closed door, her hand still hovering near the lock. She didn’t touch it. Instead, she pressed her palm flat against the cool wood, as if she could still feel the vibration of his departure.
Her kitchen smelled like him—coffee, scrambled eggs, that crisp, clean alpha scent underneath. It mixed with the faint lavender from her soap and the ghost of burnt toast. Her plate sat on the counter, congealing. The reality of what she’d agreed to crashed over her in a slow, cold wave.
His rut. He’d said it would be rough. Needy.Aggressive.
She had no frame of reference. Her heat had been a fog of desperate, aching want, a clinging vulnerability. The idea of an alpha’s equivalent, mirrored back at her but intensified by Rhys’s size and strength, sent a jolt of pure fear straight to her stomach.
She fumbled for her phone, her fingers clumsy. She scrolled past a few names, her heart hammering against her ribs. She needed someone who wouldn’t sugarcoat it. Someone who’d tell her the truth.
Rina picked up on the second ring. “Aurora? You alive? I was gonna text you later. How was the heat? Did the mountain man fix your sink or just plow you into next week?”
“He—he fixed the sink,” Aurora stammered, sliding down to sit on the floor, her back against the cabinet. The cool linoleum seeped through her pajama pants. “And… other things.”
A long pause on the other end. “Oh,” Rina said, her tone shifting from playful to sharply attentive. “Okay. ‘Other things.’ Give me details. Is he gone?”
“He left this morning. He made eggs.” Aurora swallowed. “But he’s coming back tonight.”
“Why?”
“He said… his rut is coming.Soon. Triggered by my heat.” The words felt foreign and heavy in her mouth.
“Holy shit, Aurora.” Rina’s voice dropped.“Okay. Okay.And you agreed? You said he could come back for it?”
“Yes.”
“Are you out of your little virgin mind?” There was no malice in it, just stark concern. “Do you have any idea what you’re in for?”
“No,” Aurora whispered, closing her eyes. “That’s why I’m calling. I don’t… I don’t know anything. He said it would be different. Not like my heat. He said he’d be a lot.”
Rina let out a slow breath. “Okay.Listen to me. It’s not like your heat. Your heat is a pull, an invitation. It’s a ‘please.’ An alpha’s rut is a ‘give.’ It’s a demand. It’s possessive, and it’s singular. He will not be polite. He will not ask nicely. The focus isn’t on your pleasure, it’s on his need to claim, to knot, to own the space you’re in. It’s biology dialed up to eleven.”
Aurora’s throat went dry. “Oh.”
“He will want to be on you, in you, constantly. The energy is relentless. It’s not sweet cuddles and purring, Aurora. It’s him needing to bury his knot in you every few hours because his body is screaming at him to breed. It’s marking you with his scent until you smell like him and nothing else. It’s growling, and pinning, and teeth.”
“Teeth?” The question was a squeak.
“Yeah, teeth. Not to break skin, necessarily, but the urge to bite, to hold you in place, is going to be overwhelming for him. You need a safe word.A real one. Something he’ll hear through the hormone haze.”
“Red,” Aurora said immediately, thinking of the stoplight outside her window.
“Good. Use it if you need to. He should stop. If he doesn’t, you call me, and I will break his knees.” Rina’s tone was dead serious. “Now, practically. He’s gonna sweat.A lot. Have extra sheets. Have water and Gatorade by the bed. He’ll need calories—easy stuff. Protein bars, fruit, stuff you can eat with one hand. He probably won’t let you out of bed to cook a three-course meal.”
Aurora nodded, as if Rina could see her.“Okay. Sheets.Drinks. Snacks.”
“And you,” Rina said, softer now. “You’re small. He’s huge. Your body is going to take a beating. Arnica gel. Epsom salts for the bath. Lube. So much lube. Your slick won’t be enough, not for the frequency. This isn’t the time for shyness. You need to be able to tell him what hurts.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Aurora admitted, her voice trembling.
“You have to. Or you’ll get hurt for real. This is the big leagues, kid.” Rina sighed. “Look, the flip side is… if you do this, if you see him through it, the bond is different. It’s profound for an alpha. You’re not just a warm body. You’re the harbor in his storm. He will be… attached.More than attached. You need to know that going in. This isn’t a casual fuck.”
Aurora thought of the rumble of his voice saying You purred, the way he’d saved her pizza crusts, the careful way he’d carried her to bed. She thought of the hollow ache when she believed he’d left. “I don’t want it to be casual.”
“Then prepare.Physically and mentally. Clean your place. Make your nest the best it can be, because you’ll be stuck in it for days. Hide anything breakable or sharp he might swipe in a frustrated moment. And for god’s sake, go grocery shopping. He left you money, right?”
“A credit card.”
“Use it. Get the good lube. The expensive kind. And some frozen peas for swelling.”
Aurora’s face was on fire. “Rina.”
“I’m not kidding! You asked. I’m telling you.” Rina’s voice softened again. “He must really trust you, you know. To even suggest this. Most alphas wouldn’t bring a rut to a virgin’s door. It’s… brutal. The fact that he warned you, that he gave you an out… that says something.”
It did. It said he saw her. Not just as an omega, but as Aurora. It said he was trying to be fair, even as his biology was about to override everything.
“Okay,” Aurora said, feeling a sliver of steel resolve form in her gut. “Okay. Sheets, drinks, snacks, lube, arnica, epsom salts, safe word, hide the sharp objects.”
“And condoms,” Rina added. “Unless you’re ready for the other potential consequence of a rut. The odds are high.”
Aurora’s breath caught. That possibility felt too vast, too real to even consider. “Right. Condoms.”
“Call me if you need anything.Day or night. Even if you just need to hear a sane person’s voice.”
“Thank you, Rina.”
“Go take care of your alpha, you weirdo.”
The line went dead. Aurora stayed on the floor for a long minute, the phone clutched in her hand. The fear was still there, a cold knot in her belly. But underneath it was a determination, a sense of purpose. He had taken care of her. He had stayed. He had made her eggs.
Now, she would take care of him.
She pushed herself up, her legs feeling wobbly. She grabbed Rhys’s black credit card from the counter. It was warm from the sun. She made a list on her phone, her typing clumsy. It read like a recipe for surviving a natural disaster.Then she moved. She stripped the bed, even though the sheets just smelled like her and sleep. She wanted everything fresh. She gathered all the spare linens from the closet. She tidied the living room, hiding the delicate glass vase her mother had given her. She put away all the knives except one butter knife in a drawer.
Her nest. She looked at her canopy bed. It was soft, pretty, a sanctuary for one. She piled every blanket, every pillow she owned onto it, building a fortress of fabric. It looked chaotic, but deep. A place to get lost in.
Finally, she showered, scrubbing away the last remnants of her own heat. She dressed in simple, soft clothes. She looked at herself in the mirror—wide hazel eyes, small frame. She looked exactly like what she was: inexperienced, scared.
But she also looked resolved.
She picked up the credit card and her list. The door was still unlocked. She opened it, stepping out into the hallway to go to the store, to prepare for the storm that was coming back to her.
She left it open behind her, just a crack. An invitation.