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Summary
Pheromones, sweet and earthy, filtered into the air around them as they woke. It flooded Rumi’s senses, overtaking every thought and nerve in her body, instincts flaring in response to her mates. That need— that primal need— to take, claim, mate. She shot up immediately like lightning injected into her veins, back ramrod straight as she stared down at the two omegas who were curled up on either side of her, now looking up at Rumi with twin expressions of confusion and annoyance at suddenly being woken up.
“You’re both going into heat,” Rumi said plainly. Straight to the point.
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. A fact. Final.
OR
Alpha Rumi taking care of her two omega mates going into pre-heat at the same time who are refusing to acknowledge they're going into heat, and keeps digging herself into a deeper and deeper hole.