Unmarked

The ballroom shimmered with opulence, golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over the sea of the fashion elite. The air buzzed with whispered conversations, laughter, and the subtle clash of egos hidden beneath polite smiles. Andy stood by Miranda’s side, as they navigated the treacherous social waters of high fashion.

For the most part, the evening was predictable. Designers and editors flocked to Miranda, eager to bask in her presence, to present their latest concepts, to secure even the smallest nod of approval. Andy watched as Miranda effortlessly maintained her facade of control, her ice-blue gaze assessing, calculating.

However after a couple of minutes a shift started to occur. It was subtle at first. A group of elite Alphas—CEOs of powerful fashion houses, investors, men who had long controlled the industry—began to withdraw. Andy caught the faintest flicker of disdain in their expressions, the minute narrowing of eyes, the subtle inclination of heads as they turned away from Miranda as though she had suddenly become invisible.

Miranda noticed, of course. She always noticed. But she held her chin high, her posture unyielding as she continued speaking with an up-and-coming designer about an upcoming editorial.

It was the artists, the creatives, who rallied around her.

A prominent designer, known for his avant-garde work, gave Miranda a small nod of approval. “You have nothing to prove, Miranda. We support you. Some of us have always known.” A well-respected photographer, a Beta woman with sharp eyes, nodded. “The fact that you’ve done what you’ve done as an Omega? It makes your legacy even greater.”

Miranda inclined her head slightly, her expression unreadable, but Andy caught the way her fingers clenched briefly at her side before she released them. It was a small tell, but Andy knew Miranda well enough by now to recognize the underlying emotions beneath her carefully constructed mask.

They continued their rounds, engaging in light conversation, avoiding the pointed glances from the elites who had deemed Miranda lesser. Andy burned with quiet fury at their audacity, her instincts roaring at the injustice.

Then, as Miranda was discussing an upcoming shoot with a world-renowned stylist, the moment they had both been bracing for finally arrived.

“Why isn’t she locked up?”

The words cut through the air like a dagger. The conversation halted, the surrounding guests stilling as a figure stepped forward, Irv Ravitz.

Andy’s entire body tensed at the sight of him, his presence an unwelcome stain on an otherwise meticulously fine evening. He wasn’t just rude—he was antagonistic, dripping with barely concealed disgust as he glared at Miranda.

“She’s an unclaimed Omega—well, she was,” Irv sneered, his eyes flicking to Andy. “But even now, this farce of a claim changes nothing. She spent decades lying to the industry, pretending to be something she’s not.”

Andy took a slow breath, reining in the violent instinct clawing at her chest. “Watch your mouth, Irv.”

Irv scoffed, ignoring Andy entirely, his focus locked on Miranda. “You’ve broken every rule, Miranda. If you had any dignity left, you’d step down. This industry was never meant to be run by an Omega.”

Miranda, to her credit, remained outwardly composed. But Andy saw the way her fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne glass, the minuscule flare of her nostrils as she inhaled slowly through her nose.

Before Miranda could respond, Andy stepped forward, her voice a low, a controlled threat. “Miranda built this industry, Irv. She didn’t just run it—she made it what it is today. And you? You’ve ridden her coattails for years. If anyone should step down, it’s you.”

A murmur rippled through the surrounding crowd, some nodding in agreement, others merely watching with rapt attention. Irv’s expression darkened, his face twisting in anger.

“You have no idea what you’ve done, Sachs,” he spat. “You think claiming her protects her?
You’ve only made her more of a target.” Andy smirked, tilting her head. “Then let them come.”

Silence. A thick, heavy pause before Irv turned sharply on his heel and stormed off, disappearing into the crowd. Miranda exhaled quietly, setting her glass down on a nearby tray with deliberate care. Andy turned to her, their eyes meeting in a charged moment of understanding.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Miranda murmured, her voice unreadable.

Andy stepped closer, her presence a steady, grounding force. “I will always do that.”
For a moment, Miranda simply looked at her. And then, with the barest hint of a smirk curling at the corner of her lips, she nodded.

“Come, Andrea. We have more people to disappoint.”

Andy chuckled, offering Miranda her arm. The Omega hesitated for only a fraction of a second before taking it, her touch light yet firm. And together, they stepped further into the lion’s den.
**-
The wheels of the private jet hit the tarmac at JFK, a smooth landing that barely jostled the cabin. Andy sat stiffly in her seat, heart pounding. This was it. The moment they had both been avoiding. Back home where the reality of there situation would make itself more known then ever.

Miranda, ever composed, barely reacted as the seatbelt light flickered off. She stood, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her silk blouse before turning to Andrea. “Come along, Andrea. We have much to discuss.”

Andy followed in silence, her eyes flickering over Miranda. There was something off. A pallor beneath her flawless makeup, a tension in the set of her shoulders. She wasn’t just tired. She wasn’t looking well.

The moment they stepped off the plane, the crisp evening air of New York wrapped around them. They made there way trough costumes, collected there bags and made there way to the town car waiting outside. Roy opened the door to let them in. Miranda barely acknowledged him as she stepped inside, and Andy climbed in right behind her, watching as Miranda pressed two fingers to her temple, eyes closing briefly.

The ride through the city was quiet, too quiet. Andy could feel Miranda’s exhaustion, but there seemed to be something else. The way she leaned just slightly into the seat, her usual ramrod posture softened.

By the time they reached the townhouse, Andy was on high alert. Miranda barely waited for Roy to open the door before stepping out, clutching her coat tightly around herself.

Andy followed, her own bag slung over her shoulder as she trailed Miranda up the front steps. The townhouse was dark, empty—the girls were still at there fathers, and Stephen was long gone.

Roy carried their luggage inside before leaving them alone in the grand foyer. Miranda barely glanced at Andy before moving toward the staircase.

“Miranda,” Andy called out, stopping her. Miranda stilled but didn’t turn around. Andy took a step closer. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I don’t know,” Miranda admitted quietly. That had Andy worried, Miranda wasn’t one to admit to uncertainty. Another step. Closer now. “You don’t look well.”

Miranda exhaled, shaking her head as if to clear it. “I think I simply need to rest.”

Andy hesitated. This was unfamiliar territory—walking the thin line of there new relationship. So she decided to take a different approach. “Let me help,” Andy said, softer this time. Miranda looked at her the tiredness clearly visible. She looked flushed and feverish. For a long moment, Miranda simply stared at her. Andy lifted her hand and softly placed it on the side on her face.

She indeed felt a bit warm and clammy with sweat and her eyes seem to be a bit glassy to. It took a while for her to notice but when she did realization hit her. The scent curling around her, subtle but growing stronger, told Andy exactly what was happening. Miranda was going into heat, full blown heat.

The stress of the last two weeks had taken its toll, and Miranda’s body was betraying the years she had spent keeping it locked behind suppressants. It was unraveling, slipping past her iron control, and Miranda—elegant, brilliant, stubborn Miranda—was completely unaware.

Andy tightened her grip around Miranda’s waist, steadying her as they reached the landing. “Come on,” she murmured, her voice gentle but firm. “Let’s get you into the bath, I think you can use the relaxation after everything.”

Miranda barely resisted, which was all the confirmation Andy needed. If she had been truly aware of what was happening, she would have fought tooth and nail against being handled so delicately. Instead, she leaned into Andy’s touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as her fingers curled against Andy’s wrist.

Andy’s heart clenched at the sound. Her Omega was seeking comfort, instinctively reaching for her Alpha. And God, if that didn’t make something deep in Andy purr with satisfaction.

She guided Miranda into the ensuite, steadying her as she perched on the edge of the large soaking tub. Miranda blinked sluggishly, her usual sharp gaze hazy, pupils blown wide. Andy made quick work of drawing the bath, letting warm water fill the tub while the scent of lavender and chamomile filled the space, soothing but not overwhelming.

When she turned back, Miranda had started to undo the buttons of her blouse, but her fingers fumbled clumsily. Andy swallowed, heat curling low in her stomach at the rare display of vulnerability. Wordlessly, she knelt before her, taking over, her fingers deftly slipping the silk fabric from Miranda’s shoulders.

Miranda made a soft sound—half sigh, half whimper—as Andy traced her fingertips lightly down her arms, guiding her up and out of the rest of her clothing. By the time Miranda was bare, her scent was intoxicating, wrapping around Andy like a siren’s call. Andy’s jaw tightened as she forced herself to focus.

“Step in, darling,” Andy coaxed, helping Miranda ease into the water. Miranda let out a breathy moan as the warmth enveloped her, her head tipping back against the lip of the tub.

Andy exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself, but it was futile. The longer she stayed, the deeper Miranda’s scent burrowed under her skin, whispering to something primal inside her. And beneath that, she felt it—her own rut, stirring in response.

She was no fool. She knew this would happen. Their bond had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks, pressing, waiting. Now, Miranda’s unraveling was pulling Andy under with her.
Miranda cracked her eyes open, watching her through damp lashes. “You’re looking at me like I’m something precious.”

Andy let out a soft chuckle, cupping Miranda’s cheek. “That’s because you are.”

Miranda’s breath hitched, something fragile flickering across her face before she turned slightly, pressing a kiss to Andy’s palm. It was the smallest movement, but it destroyed what little restraint Andy had left.

She reached for the tie on her blouse, tugging it loose before slipping it off, her pants following quickly. Miranda’s gaze darkened as Andy climbed into the tub, settling between her legs, the water sloshing softly around them.
“You don’t have to—” Miranda started, but Andy silenced her with a kiss, slow and deep, pouring every ounce of devotion she had into it. Miranda melted instantly, a soft, needy sound slipping past her lips as she tangled her fingers in Andy’s damp hair.

Andy groaned against her mouth, pressing closer, letting her hands roam over smooth, wet skin. Every inch of her was unbearably warm, her Omega instincts pressing against Andy’s own like a fire waiting to consume them both.

Miranda trembled against her, gasping softly as Andy’s lips traced down the line of her jaw, along the column of her throat. Andy lingered at the delicate curve where her scent was the strongest, pressing reverent kisses there, feeling Miranda shudder beneath her touch.

“Andy,” Miranda whispered, voice barely audible above the gentle slosh of water. “Please.”

Andy didn’t hesitate. She gathered Miranda close, tilting her head to the side, giving her one last chance to stop this. But Miranda only pulled her closer, baring her throat in a silent invitation.
With a soft growl, Andy sank her teeth into the soft flesh of Miranda’s neck, claiming her once more. Miranda gasped, arching into her, her entire body trembling sealing them together.

The moment stretched between them, electric and unbreakable.

When Andy pulled back, Miranda was looking at her, wide-eyed and panting, her fingers brushing against the fresh mark. Then, slowly, a small, almost disbelieving smile curled at the edges of her lips.

“Your mine, really mine” Andy murmured, voice rough with possession and adoration.
Miranda let out a soft laugh, threading her fingers through Andy’s hair. “Yes I am. Yours.”

Then she kissed her again, deepening the kiss, feeling Miranda’s body press against hers, slick with warm water. Her hands roamed, gripping soft curves, tracing the trembling path of Miranda’s spine. A soft gasp escaped Miranda as Andy bit gently at her throat, right where her claiming mark now lay, already darkening beautifully.

Miranda’s fingers tightened in Andy’s hair, a silent plea for more, and Andy growled low in response. Without breaking their kiss, she shifted, slipping her arms beneath Miranda’s thighs and standing effortlessly, lifting her Omega from the tub.

Miranda’s legs instinctively wrapped around Andy’s waist, arms looping around her shoulders as they continued their fevered kisses. Their lips parted only long enough for Andy to navigate them through the bedroom, dripping water along the way, the heat between them making the cool air of the room feel nonexistent.

By the time they reached the bed, Miranda was panting, her body pressed flush against Andy’s, the slickness between her thighs betraying just how deep her heat had set in. Andy laid her down gently, but the moment Miranda’s back hit the mattress, she whined, arching into Andy, grasping at her desperately.

Andy’s pupils dilated at the sound, something primal snapping loose. She climbed on top of Miranda, caging her in, their bodies aligning in perfect, scorching heat. Miranda shivered beneath her, eyes dark and glazed, hands sliding down Andy’s strong back before gripping at her hips.

“Andy,” she breathed, her voice thin with need. “Please.”

Andy growled, pressing her hips down, letting Miranda feel exactly what was waiting for her. The Omega’s breath hitched, legs spreading wider in clear invitation, her body aching for the only relief she could find now.

Andy kissed her hard, possessively, one hand slipping between their bodies to guide herself to Miranda’s entrance. She teased, running the head of her cock against slick folds, feeling how wet, how ready Miranda already was for her.

“Look at you,” Andy murmured, voice husky as she nudged forward just enough to feel the desperate clench of Miranda’s body. “So eager for your Alpha.”

Miranda whimpered, her hands clawing at Andy’s shoulders, her usually sharp tongue silenced by pure need. Andy didn’t make her wait any longer. With one steady, deep thrust, she buried herself inside Miranda, stretching her open, filling her completely.

Miranda let out a choked cry, her legs tightening around Andy’s waist as her nails dug into strong Alpha shoulders. Andy groaned at the tight, hot grip around her, barely holding herself together as Miranda trembled beneath her.

“You feel—” Andy barely got the words out before she pulled back and thrust in again, harder this time, dragging another breathless moan from Miranda’s lips. “So perfect, so tight, like you were made for me.”

Miranda’s head fell back, exposing the delicate, marked skin of her throat, her submission driving Andy wild. Andy took it, nipping and kissing along Miranda’s pulse, thrusting faster, rougher, making sure her Omega felt every inch of her.

Miranda clung to her, letting herself be taken, be claimed again and again. The overwhelming pleasure, made her dizzy, made her whisper Andy’s name between gasps and whimpers. And when Andy’s hands gripped her hips tighter, when she angled just right to hit that perfect spot inside her, Miranda shattered, crying out as pleasure coursed through her body.

Andy groaned as Miranda clenched down around her, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. Not when Miranda was writhing beneath her, begging without words for more. Andy fucked her through the first orgasm and into the next, her body driven by instinct, by the primal need to breed.

Miranda’s heat surged higher, her scent thickening, her need becoming unbearable. She barely realized what she was saying until the words slipped past her lips, desperate, pleading.

“Fuck me Andrea, Breed me.”

Andy froze for a second, her whole body going rigid, and then she let out the deepest growl Miranda had ever heard, something primal and possessive. She surged forward, pressing Miranda into the mattress, fucking her deeper, harder, as her own release began to crest.
Miranda clung to her, lost in sensation, feeling Andy throb inside her, so close, so impossibly deep. She could feel it coming, the inevitable, the final claim, and she wanted it. She needed it.

“Give it to me,” she whispered, eyes locking onto Andy’s. “Fill me, Andrea. Make me yours.”

With a final thrust, Andy buried herself to the hilt and let go, groaning as she spilled deep inside Miranda, locking their bodies together. Miranda gasped, feeling the heat of it, the overwhelming fullness, her body shuddering through another climax as Andy held her close, murmuring soft praises into her ear.

They stayed like that for a long time, tangled together, panting, trembling, completely consumed by each other. Andy pressed a lingering kiss against Miranda’s temple, stroking her damp hair back as she whispered, “Mine.” Miranda, utterly spent, completely sated, let out a soft, pleased hum. “Yours.”

**-
Andy had never experienced anything like this before. She had known, in theory, that an Omega’s heat could be relentless, but experiencing it firsthand—especially with Miranda—had rewritten every expectation she had ever held.

For six days, Miranda had been insatiable, clinging to Andy with a desperation that sent fire racing through her veins. Her Omega instincts had taken over completely, making her utterly pliant and needy, lost in the overwhelming cycle of heat. And Andy, her own Alpha nature responding with equal intensity, had given her everything she needed, over and over again.

They had barely left their bed—except for the moments when Miranda had whimpered against Andy’s ear, begging her to take her against the wall, the couch, the kitchen table. There had been times Andy had been rough, claiming and taking as Miranda pleaded for more. Other times, she had been gentle, whispering reassurances as she moved slowly, worshiping every inch of the woman beneath her. And now, finally, Miranda’s heat had broken.

Andy lay beside her, completely spent but unwilling to let go of her. The room smelled of them, of sweat and sex, of the deep, undeniable bond they had forged in the past week. Miranda was limp in her arms, exhaustion having finally taken its toll.

Miranda had barely spoken since waking up. She was quiet—too quiet. She lay curled against Andy’s chest, but her breathing was shallow, and there was no teasing bite to her words, no sharp wit that usually surfaced even in her most vulnerable moments.

Andy shifted slightly, brushing her lips against Miranda’s damp temple. “Hey,” she murmured softly. “How are you feeling?”

Miranda didn’t answer right away. Instead, she let out a slow breath, barely moving. Andy felt the faintest tremble in her body, something so small most people wouldn’t have noticed it. But Andy did. She tightened her arms around Miranda, instinctively pulling her closer. “Miranda?”

Still, nothing.

Andy’s heart clenched. She knew this. She had heard of it before. Omegas who had gone through an intense heat sometimes crashed afterward—physically, emotionally. Dropping, they called it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Andy whispered, tilting Miranda’s face up with gentle fingers. “Talk to me.”
Miranda’s lips parted slightly, but her voice, when it finally came, was barely above a whisper. “I feel… empty.”

The words sent a pang through Andy’s chest. She kissed Miranda’s forehead, then her cheek, pressing soothing lips against her fever-warmed skin. “I’ve got you,” she murmured.

Miranda’s fingers twitched against Andy’s arm, gripping weakly at her skin as if grounding herself. Andy stroked a hand down her back, slow and deliberate, trying to offer whatever comfort she could. “It’s normal, love,” she murmured. “Your body’s been running on instinct for days. Now that it’s over, you’re crashing a little. But I promise, I won’t let you fall.”

Miranda exhaled shakily, pressing her face into Andy’s throat. “I hate this,” she admitted, voice raw. “I hate feeling this way.”

Andy held her tighter, nuzzling against her silver hair. “I know,” she whispered. “But it’s just temporary. Let me take care of you.”

Miranda made a soft sound—not quite an agreement, but not a protest either. Andy took that as a good sign. She shifted, adjusting their tangled limbs, and pressed a lingering kiss against Miranda’s jaw. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she suggested gently. “A warm bath will help.”

Miranda didn’t fight her as Andy sat up and gathered her into her arms. She just went, too exhausted to argue, her body curling against Andy’s chest as if she belonged there. And she did.

Andy carried her into the bathroom, setting her carefully in the tub, making sure the water was just the right temperature. She washed Miranda’s body tenderly, running soft hands over her skin, massaging her muscles, pressing delicate kisses to her shoulders.

And slowly, bit by bit, Miranda started to relax. The tension in her frame eased, her fingers slowly unclenching, her breathing growing steadier. Andy stayed with her, whispering quiet words of love, making sure she knew she wasn’t alone.

By the time Andy carried her back to bed, Miranda was a little more herself, her grip on Andy firmer, her voice a little stronger. As Andy laid her down and curled beside her, Miranda finally looked at her, something vulnerable and raw in her gaze.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered.

Andy cupped her cheek, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Never,” she promised. And she meant it.

**-
They took another day to repopulate. Andy had let Nigle know via text what was happening and that Miranda would be back to work in a day or two. He told Andy to take as long as she needed, he knew Miranda’s first heat was probably going to be quite the shock to her.

The day passed in a haze of soft touches, whispered reassurances, and gentle comfort. Andy had known Miranda would need time—real time—to come down from the intensity of the past week, and she was more than willing to give it to her.

The nest they had built in the bedroom, a cocoon of blankets and pillows, remained their sanctuary. The world outside didn’t exist here—there was no work, no responsibilities, no expectations. Just them. Andy made sure Miranda had everything she needed, soothing her as she rode the emotional waves of coming down from her heat. Miranda, who had spent her entire life in control, now found herself wholly reliant on Andy’s presence, her touch, her voice.

And Andy gave it, willingly and completely.
They spent most of the day curled up together, the low hum of old movies playing in the background, a quiet distraction as Miranda rested against Andy’s chest. Andy stroked her fingers through Miranda’s soft silver hair, pressing idle kisses to the crown of her head, murmuring quiet reassurances whenever she felt Miranda stiffen or withdraw.

“You’re okay,” Andy whispered whenever Miranda let out a shaky breath, gripping onto her shirt.
Miranda would nod against her, but Andy could still feel the lingering vulnerability beneath the surface. She held her closer, letting their bond speak for itself, letting Miranda feel that she was safe, that she wasn’t alone.

As the day stretched into the evening, Andy made sure Miranda ate, feeding her slow bites of dinner, coaxing her into drinking enough water, ensuring her body had what it needed to recover. Miranda allowed it all with quiet compliance, her usual sharp wit dulled by exhaustion. And as the evening settled in, Andy brought over a small plate of fruit, settling back into the nest with Miranda pressed against her side.

Andy lifted a piece of melon to Miranda’s lips, watching as she took it without hesitation. There was something achingly intimate about it, the quiet care, the ease between them. But as she fed Miranda another piece, Andy knew it was time to bring up what they had both been avoiding.
She exhaled softly, running a gentle hand down Miranda’s arm. “Miranda,” she said quietly, her voice steady but firm. “We need to talk.”

Miranda tensed slightly, her fingers curling against the blanket. Andy caught her hand, squeezing it gently. “I know you don’t want to,” she continued, “but we have to. Before we go back to work, before everything starts moving again.”

Miranda sighed, setting the fruit aside, suddenly looking exhausted in a different way. She didn’t pull away, but she also didn’t meet Andy’s gaze right away. “I know,” she murmured. “I just…”
Andy waited patiently, giving her the space to find her words.

Miranda inhaled slowly, finally looking up at her. “Everything changed so quickly.”

“I know,” Andy agreed. “And I know that’s terrifying for you.”

Miranda’s lips pressed together, and Andy could see the battle happening inside her. The fight between her instincts, her emotions, and the walls she had spent decades building. Andy reached up, brushing a stray lock behind her ear before cupping her cheek. “But we can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

Miranda leaned into her touch, just slightly. “No,” she admitted softly. “We can’t.”

Andy stroked her thumb across Miranda’s cheek. “So let’s figure it out. Together.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment, heavy but not suffocating. Miranda finally exhaled and nodded. “Alright.”

Andy kissed her forehead. “Good. Let’s talk.”