And I can smell them.
All four of them. All mixed together in the nest around me.
My heart does something complicated in my chest.
I risk cracking one eye open just a sliver, peeking through my lashes as I burrow deeper beneath the blanket.
The first thing I see is Jalen.
He’s sitting cross-legged at the edge of the nest, one hand resting in the dark coils on his scalp, wearing sweatpants and nothing else. He’s looking down at something in his hands—his phone, maybe?—and there’s this soft, peaceful expression on his face that makes something warm bloom in my chest.
As if sensing my gaze, his eyes lift and meet mine.
For a second, we just stare at each other. I’m frozen, caught, not sure what to do or say or?—
Then his whole face softens into this gentle smile that makes my breath catch.
“Hey,” he says quietly. His voice is warm. Kind. Like waking up to find me watching him is the most natural thing in the world. “Welcome back, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
The endearment should probably bother me. Should feel presumptuous or patronizing or something. But instead, it just makes that warm feeling in my chest spread.
“Hi,” I manage, and my voice comes out rough and scratchy like I’ve been screaming.
Which. Yeah. I probably was.
Oh god.
“How are you feeling?” Jalen asks, setting his phone aside and giving me his full attention.
How am I feeling?
Mortified. Confused. Sore in places I didn’t know could besore. Weirdly content despite the mortification. Like my body is completely satisfied even if my brain is having a full-scale panic attack.
“Fuzzy,” I settle on, because it’s true. My thoughts are still swimming, still not quite connecting the way they should. “And... thirsty?”
“I’ll get you water,” comes Malik’s voice from somewhere behind me, and I jump slightly because I hadn’t realized he was that close.
I turn my head slowly, because sudden movements feel like a bad idea, and find him already reaching for a bottle of water on the nightstand. He’s shirtless too, wearing only loose flannel pants that hang low on his hips.
I should not be noticing that. Should not be cataloging the defined muscles of his chest and arms. Should definitely not be remembering what those arms felt like wrapped around me.
When I was naked.
Like I am right now.
The realization makes heat flood my face all over again. And that’s when I realize something is different. I’m surrounded by their scents, but it’s not like it was before. It’s calmer now.
They’re not in rut anymore.
The realization should make me feel better. Should be a relief. But instead, there’s this weird pang of... disappointment? Which makes no sense. I should be thrilled that this is over, that we can go back to normal.
Except what even is normal after this?
“Here you go, sweetheart,” Malik says, opening the bottle and holding it out to me.
I reach for it automatically, then freeze as the blanket starts to slip. My hand darts out to catch it, clutching the fabric to my chest, and the movement makes my arm shake with weakness.
