I woke with a sensation I hadn't felt in months— a tingling that started low in my abdomen and spread outward through my limbs like warm honey. My skin felt hypersensitive where the sheets touched it, each thread of cotton a tiny pressure point that made me want to shift and squirm. The room was too warm despite the temperature control. I breathed in, and the air tasted different somehow, carrying a faint metallic scent I recognized with a jolt of awareness that brought me fully awake.
Heat.
My heart kicked up immediately, pounding against my ribs like a runaway train veering off the tracks. I pushed myself upright; the sheets falling away from my body, as the cool air hit my overheated skin like a shock. Sweat had dampened my hair where it pressed against my neck, and my pulse throbbed visibly in my wrist when I looked down at my hands.
The signs were unmistakable. The heightened sensitivity, the temperature fluctuations, the way my body seemed to hum with awareness of every sensation. I'd read about Omegas whose heat cycles stopped completely under extreme stress, their bodies shutting down non-essential functions to focus on survival.Mine had done that on the streets, disappearing for months while I'd been too cold, too hungry, too afraid to trigger the biological imperative to mate.
But I wasn't on the streets anymore. I was safe here. Fed, warm, protected. And my body had apparently decided it was time to resume its normal functions.
Panic fluttered in my chest, sharp-winged and frantic. The last time I'd gone into heat had been with my old pack. Bane had locked me in a room for three days, using my vulnerability for his own purposes, taking what he wanted while my biology made me compliant. The memory made my stomach clench, made me want to vomit at his hands being anywhere near me.
But hiding wouldn't help. Heat didn't work that way. It would build whether or not I acknowledged it, whether I prepared or fought against it. Fighting was futile. It only made it worse, made the discomfort sharper and the eventual surrender more complete.
I swung my legs out of bed, my feet finding the cool hardwood floor. The temperature difference between my overheated skin and the wood sent another shiver through me, and I stood carefully, testing my balance. My legs felt strange, simultaneously weak and restless, like they wanted to move but weren't sure where to go.
My gaze swept the room, taking inventory. The bed with its rumpled sheets. The chair in the corner with my sweater draped over it. The closet, half-open, showing the edges of clothes I'd been given. The windows, with their heavy curtains pulled back to let in the morning light.
Not enough. None of it was enough.
The instinct rose in me like a tide, overwhelming conscious thought with biological imperative. I needed a nest. Needed to create a space that was safe, protected, mine. The urge was so strong it made my hands shake as I moved toward thecloset, pulling open the door wider to see what materials I had available.
Extra blankets sat on the top shelf. I dragged them down, my movements becoming more purposeful as the instinct took hold. Soft fleece in gray, a heavier quilt in cream, a throw blanket that felt like velvet against my sensitized palms. I carried them to the bed, arranging them in a rough circle before going back for more.
Pillows next. The decorative ones from the chair, the extra ones from the closet shelf, even the body pillow I'd been using at night. I gathered them all, my breathing quickening with each trip. The physical activity should have tired me, but it energized me, giving focus to the restless energy building in my muscles.
The nest began to take shape on my bed. I arranged the blankets in layers, creating walls and depth, a protective circle that would cradle my body through what was coming. The pillows went around the edges, some standing upright to create barriers, others lying flat to provide softness. My hands moved faster, adjusting and readjusting, driven by an instinct older than conscious thought.
Not enough. Still not enough.
I left my room, moving through the penthouse with single-minded purpose. The living room had throw pillows on the couch; cream and gray ones that would blend with what I already had. I took them, not caring if anyone noticed, not caring about anything except the driving need to gather, arrange, and create.
The guest bedroom had extra bedding in the closet. I pulled out another blanket; this one thick and plush, and carried it back to my room. On the way, I grabbed a soft cardigan I'd left draped over a chair, its cashmere texture calling to my heightened senses. Then I noticed Theo's T-shirt. I picked it up and breathed in his scent, it fluttered through my body right down to mycore. I needed it. Needed something from all of them. I bit my lower lip and checked that the coast was clear, then entered Kade's bedroom. Simple, masculine, straight lines, and minimal furniture. It was exactly like him. On the edge of the bed was a neatly folded shirt, the one I saw him in yesterday. Borrowing that, I entered Lucian's piano room. I remembered he'd left his towel in there after he’d showered yesterday. He’d said the music had called to him, and he couldn’t wait to let it out. Taking a moment, I breathed in their combined scents, leather, oak, and rosewood, and moaned. It was transformative. Their scents pulling me deeper into my heat.
My bedroom was changing. The bed had disappeared under layers of soft materials, each one carefully placed to create the nest I needed. I climbed onto it, my body settling into the center, and began the final arrangements. The walls of the nest rose around me, high enough to create a sense of enclosure, to block out the world and create a space that was entirely mine.
I adjusted a pillow here, smoothed a blanket there. Their clothes went on the inside where I'd be lying, the softness perfect against bare skin. The heavier quilt formed the outer wall on one side, providing weight and security. The velvet throw draped over the top edge, its texture satisfying something in me I couldn't name.
The curtains. I needed to close the curtains.
I climbed out of my nest carefully, preserving its structure, and moved to the windows. The city sprawled below, afternoon light painting the buildings in shades of gold and gray. But I didn't want the exposure, didn't want the feeling of being visible when I was about to be at my most vulnerable.
I pulled the heavy curtains closed, shutting out the city lights and the afternoon sun. The room dimmed immediately, shadows gathering in the corners, and I felt some of the tension in my shoulders ease. Darkness felt safer. Enclosed felt safer.
Back to the nest. I circled it once, examining my work with critical eyes. The structure was sound; the materials were soft and clean. The scents were right— laundry detergent and fabric softener, intermingled with my Alphas' enticing scents and hints of the penthouse's air underneath.
My Alphas... I’d said ‘my Alphas’. It was the first time I’d seen them as my own. Did that mean I saw myself as accepting a pack again? The thought made me both excited and terrified at the same time. I took a deep breath and pulled their clothes to my chest, breathing in their scents. There was something about them, their scents, their personalities, and the way we just... fit.
My body was heating more now, the tingling spreading deeper, becoming an ache that pulsed in time with my heartbeat. I could feel my apple pie scent intensifying, broadcasting my status to any Alpha within range. The thought should have alarmed me, but here, in my nest, with my materials arranged just right, I felt something else.
Safe. For the first time in my life, I felt safe.
The realization made my throat tight. I'd never had this before... a nest of my own choosing, in a space where no one would use my vulnerability against me. Where the Alphas outside my door had promised protection instead of exploitation.
I climbed into the center of my nest, settling into the rhythm of the forthcoming heat. My heartbeat was still racing, but it wasn't just fear anymore. It was anticipation, anxiety, and something that might have been hope, all tangled together in my chest. The heat was coming, would be here fully within hours, and I was as ready as I could be.
Curling deeper into my nest, I drew my knees up, wrapping the blankets tighter. Through the walls of pillows and fabric, I could hear the distant sounds of the penthouse— footsteps, voices, the hum of the heating system.
And for once, I let myself believe that maybe, possibly, I could survive what was coming. That maybe these Alphas were different. That maybe I really was safe.
