I worried about Oliver all morning. I know it's not polite to tell someone they look awful, but he really had. His skin was pale, but the skin along his hairline had beaded with sweat. He moved slowly, like it hurt him, and he winced at Chloe's giggles, which normally made him smile like she'd just given him the best present in the world.

His first text set me at ease somewhat, and that he was resting even more so, but it didn't kill my worry. He was the kind of guy who would work himself to the bone rather than ask for help for himself. He would never put Chloe in danger, I knew that, but I knew firsthand how you could push through to take care of a kid while feeling like your body is trying to tear you apart. Single parenting while sick with the flu isn't for the weak.

I was doing my best to rein in my over-protective urges, however. While Oliver was a member of my household, I had no claim on him other than as his employer. I couldn't literally go over there and make him rest. Well, maybe I could, but that kind of heavy-handed alphahole attitude might lose me the best thing that had happened to my life since Chloe's birth. I meant, having him as a nanny, of course. No matter what my brain might whisper to me when I was alone.

But then when I texted him that he should take a nap while Chloe was asleep and my phone dinged not ten seconds later with that Yes, alpha. text...Those alpha instincts went into overdrive and it was all I could do to not skip my next appointment and march right over there to make sure he was taking care of himself. I made it through the next appointment, however, and took the opportunity of a small break in my schedule to high tail it over to the house.

When Oliver didn't answer my call as I walked in the door, my heart nearly stopped. The house smelled...wrong. I could still smell the lavender and honey scent that was Oliver and it was stronger than ever, but there was something underneath it, something rotten. I ran to his room first, my eyes scanning each room to make sure I didn't miss him. When his room was empty, I checked Chloe's. And then I heard a moan from the bathroom.

He was collapsed on the floor next to the toilet and I fell to my knees beside him, my hand going to check his pulse on his neck. Still there, I heaved a sigh of relief. But it was too rapid. I pulled him up to a sitting position and pulled him to my chest. He groaned again. 

"Oliver? Oliver, can you hear me?"

No response. I had to do something. Should I call an ambulance? Or at least a doctor?

First things first, I needed to get him out of the bathroom. I managed to hoist him to his feet, his arm around my neck. He was a dead weight, but I managed to hobble us into his room. I needed to get him out of his sweat-soaked clothes. I quickly stripped him of his shirt and pants, leaving him in his boxers, then pulled the blankets down from underneath his body to cover him up.

"Oliver? Are you okay?"

He moaned again, but I thought I could hear something almost coherent in the sound. I leaned closer to his ear.

"Wyatt..."

"I'm here, Oliver. What do you need?"

His hands slipped up to grab my shirt over my chest and he pulled tightly, like he was trying to pull himself out of bed.

"I need you, alpha."

All of a sudden, I realized what was happening. This wasn't an illness. He was in heat. But something was wrong. Heat made you loopy, absolutely, but it didn't normally make you ill like this. But now that I recognized it for what it was, now that I knew Oliver wasn't dying, the adrenaline faded and the hormones it had been blocking started seeping into my system, involuntarily stirring interest in my groin. This was so not the time for that. 

Oliver's hands were still twisted in my shirt and I started to disentangle them.

"You're my alpha," Oliver said, kicking all my efforts to ignore the hormone driven response of my body to the curb. "I don't care whether you know it or not. Mine."

It was just heat sickness talking, I knew it. Heat made omegas crave the nearest knot, say the most unlikely things, things they would regret when it passed. And this was the worst heat sickness I'd ever seen. Knowing all that didn't prevent me from the barest moment of exultation. I wanted to be Oliver's alpha. For the first time since Jen passed, I craved another person. I craved this man twisting and squirming below me, his words becoming more clear by the moment. 

"I need your knot, alpha. Need you to fill me up good. You're so perfect, Wyatt. No one else like you."

There were so many ways I was being inappropriate right now, not the least of which was that I was realizing that my appreciation for Wyatt had long passed that of an employer for an employee, but as an alpha for an omega. I'd never really had to give thought to my sexuality before. I'd had thoughts about other guys, but before Jen, I'd only dated two other omegas, both female. But there was no question in my mind right now, as Oliver's thrashing bared his naked chest, that I wanted everything Oliver had to offer: his willing kindness, his cheerful spirit, and his sinfully enticing body.

But not now. Not while he was incapacitated. And maybe not ever. I was his boss, for fuck's sake. And his housing depended on this job. There was so much that could go wrong.

"You're the perfect man," Oliver said.

Oh, I was so very far from it.