I feel the heat bubbling under the surface, but before any of that, this nest needs to be perfect. And it’s not.
I sit up again, adjusting the blankets. This one needs to go here. No, there. The pillow is too flat—I need it fluffier. I bunch it up, smooth it down, bunch it again. Pull another blanket over from the corner, fold it just so, then unfold it because the texture is wrong against my skin.
“Willa?” Jake’s voice is gentle. “You okay?”
“It’s not right,” I mutter, moving a pillow three inches to the left. Then back. Then left again. “It needs to be— I can’t?—”
I have this overwhelming need to get this perfect. My Omega is insisting, demanding, won’t let me rest until everything is exactly where it needs to be.
I sit back on my heels, surveying my work with a critical eye. Something’s still missing. There’s a gap in the left corner that feels too exposed.
I don’t notice Jake leave until he comes back to the bed with some clothes in his hand. Relief floods through me. A guilty blush steals up my cheeks.
“Need these?” he asks, somewhat sheepishly, but I can see the pleasure of it on his face too. Pride. Satisfaction that his Omega is nesting and that she wants his scent woven into her safe space.
“Yes,” I say, grabbing at them quickly and weaving them into the mass of blankets and pillows with careful precision, placing them strategically so that no matter how I lie in this nest, I’m surrounded by all their scents.
I adjust. Readjust. Move a blanket half an inch. Fluff another pillow. Smooth everything down with my palms, pressing their scents deeper into the fabric.
“Perfect,” I finally breathe.
“Better?”
I burrow down until only my nose and mouth stick out. “Yes.”
I’m rewarded with another one of his sweet chuckles, and then Jake himself when he climbs in beside me, sliding his nude body right up against mine and gathering me into his arms until I’m pressed to his chest. I immediately curl into him. His bare chest is warm beneath my cheek, and I can hear his heartbeat, steady and strong.
“Sleep, Wildcat. I’ve got you.”
I’m aware of the fizzle under my skin, the feel of all that naked heat, and the rigid length of him pressed against my belly. But all he does is hold me as my awareness slips away.
Time becomes meaningless.
I’m dimly aware of things happening around me—the door opening, voices drifting in—Beau’s rough with emotion, Charlie’s soft with concern. The bed dips as they climb in, and suddenly I’m surrounded by warmth and scent and pack.
Someone—Charlie, I think—presses a kiss to my forehead. “Sleep, sweetheart. We’re all here now.”
I burrow deeper into the nest of bodies and blankets. Someone’s hand is in my hair. Someone else’s arm is draped over my waist. I’m cocooned in pack, and my Omega finally feels safe enough to fully let go.
I drift in and out. Not quite asleep but not really awake either. Floating in that hazy space between consciousness and dreams.
Voices filter through occasionally.
“—should eat something when she wakes up?—”
“—doctor said fluids are more important?—”
“—never letting her out of our sight again?—”
“—going to kill him. I don’t care if he’s already arrested?—”
“—she needs us calm, needs us steady?—”
The words wash over me but don’t quite penetrate. All that matters is the warmth surrounding me. The scents wrapping around me like a blanket, until I’m drowning in the steady rhythm of heartbeats and breathing.
THIRTY
willa
