Is she… itching tonest?
I can see it in the way her eyes keep flicking to the corners of the room, her movements restless. As if she’s searching for something to make her feel safe. She’s trying to hold it together, but it’s too much.
Too much pressure building inside her. Her scent is flaring with distress.
She needs a nest.
Ford’s already moving around the house, tidying up, clearing a space in the spare room for her. He’s always been the type to take charge, methodical and calm. It’s the way he moves when he’s focused. Each movement purposeful, trying to do something to take the load off her. But I can see the way his eyes linger on her, the same wariness that’s creeping into my chest.
Hayes, on the other hand, is already putting the kettle on, making tea, because that’s what he does when he wants to give people space, tosoothethem. He doesn’t talk much, but his presence is a quiet anchor.
And right now, we all need something to calm us down.
I stay where I am, close enough to watch her, to be there in an instant if anything makes her feel unsafe for even a second.
Lo glances at me, her eyes locking with mine for a brief second, and everything shifts. I can’t even explain it, but I feel it. An electricity, a spark. Her pulse quickens; I can see it beating at her neck. Her scent is deepening, ripe fruit on the edge of bursting, invading my nostrils.
“Lo…” I murmur.
Her lips press together, and I see the way she fights it, fights me… fights the connection that’s already growing between us, that’s been building ever since she came back.
“I’m fine,” she says quickly, but there’s no conviction behind the words.
She’s lying, but she knows I can see through it. The trembling in her hands, the way her body shudders every time she moves too fast, it all tells me that she’s anything but fine.
I take a step closer without thinking. I can’t help it.
I’ve never been able to stop myself when it comes to her. Every instinct tells me to move, to protect her, to claim her scent and make everything right again. My skin burns with the need to touch her, to have her close and help her build her nest.
But I can’t. I’m barely holding on to my control. I need to stay steady, to give her space, even if my Alpha urges me to do the opposite.
That’s what the pack talked about: giving her space. Letting her come to us.
I’m now beginning to wonder if that was the wrong move.
“Lo…” I repeat, this time firmer. “Come on.”
I can feel the desire radiating off her now, as powerful as the storm outside, only this time, it’s in her. The storm rages inside of her, and I can see it behind her panicked eyes.
I want to soothe the panic away with a mark to the nape of her neck.
I watch as her eyes flick to the corners of the room again, her pupils dilated, her body shaking slightly. The air around her is charged, almost crackling, and it’s so damn thick with her scent I can taste it.
God, it’s wildfire.
And I can’t deny it anymore, my body knowsexactlywhat it wants. My pulse races in my ears, and my teeth are clenched so tight I’m afraid I’ll shatter them. The pressure is unbearable, building faster and quicker, dragging me close to a point of no return.
She aches for me, too, for all of us. I can see it in her eyes. It’s there, that fragile line between holding it together and giving in, and right now, she’s just waiting for the moment she can let go. She wants to.
I can see it.
I can feel it.
The connection between us is undeniable, a force pulling us together, and I can’t fight it anymore.
I just can’t.
My Alpha sweeps over me, taking control.
