Until him, my omega corrected, and I could hear the smugness in her inner voice.Until our alpha triggered our bond and woke us up properly. Now you need soft things and safe spaces because your body knows what's coming. Your body is preparing.
"Nothing is coming," I said out loud, my voice echoing in the quiet apartment. "There's nothing—this doesn't mean anything?—"
I couldn't tear my eyes away from the nest. Every instinct screamed at me to destroy it—to tear apart the pillows, untangle the blankets, erase the evidence of my weakness. To prove that I was still in control.
I was so tired… and the nest looked so soft. I could still smell him on my skin despite the shower, and maybe, maybe if I just lay down for a little while, surrounded by soft things, I could pretend that everything was fine. That I hadn't just had my entire world turned upside down. That I wasn't falling apart at the seams.
I crossed the room on unsteady legs and climbed into the nest.
It was good. Really good. The blankets were perfectly arranged to cradle my body, and the pillows formed a protective barrier around me, and the fuzzy cardigan was impossibly soft against my cheek. I curled into a ball in the center, pulling the throw blanket over myself, and let out a breath I felt like I'd been holding for hours.
Safe, my omega hummed, settling down inside me for the first time since the collision.Den. Nest. Safe.
It was a pale imitation of what I really needed, I knew that. What my omega really wanted was to be surrounded by alphascent, to be held and protected and claimed. But it would have to do.
It was all I was going to allow. I closed my eyes and let the exhaustion drag me under.
My dreams were dark and confusing, water closing over my head, hands reaching from the depths, five sets of hands pulling me in different directions while I struggled to breathe. I woke gasping sometime in the middle of the night, my heart pounding and my sheets tangled around my legs, and it took me several long minutes to remember where I was.
My nest. My apartment. Alone.
I was still alone.
My omega whimpered softly in the back of my mind, and I realized my cheeks were wet with tears I didn't remember crying. I pulled the cardigan closer, buried my face in its softness, and forced myself back to sleep.
Morning came too soon and not soon enough.
I woke to grey light filtering through my curtains and a persistent buzzing from my phone, which I'd apparently brought into the nest with me at some point during the night. My head ached. My mark ached. Everything ached, like I was coming down with the flu.
Soul sickness, some distant part of my brain supplied.Incomplete bonds cause soul sickness. You know this. You researched it.
I pushed the thought away and grabbed my phone, squinting at the screen through sleep-blurred eyes.
MINA (3 missed calls)
MINA: SIREN requested a meeting with you today. They want to meet you before they fully agree to the collaboration. Eleven am. Conference Room 3A.
MINA: You know how they are, they usually write their own stuff. Jin-ho wants to vet you personally before signing off on the company's decision.
MINA: Keira? Please confirm you received this.
I stared at the messages, my brain struggling to process the words.
Jin-ho. SIREN's lead vocalist and chief lyricist. The one with the silver-grey hair and the amber eyes that looked almost golden in photographs. He wanted to meet me before agreeing to let me work on their comeback.
It made sense. SIREN was known for writing their own music, it was part of their brand, part of what made them respected in an industry full of manufactured pop. They brought in outside help occasionally when schedules got too demanding, but they were notoriously selective about who they worked with. The company could suggest a collaborator, but SIREN had final say.
Now their chief lyricist wanted to decide if I was good enough.
I'd spent years working behind the scenes, communicating through emails and file transfers, never meeting the artists whose voices brought my words to life. It was safer that way. Easier. No faces to remember, no connections to form, no risk of anyone looking too closely at the omega who preferred to stay invisible.
Now SIREN wanted to meet me. And if I wanted this project, if I wanted to keep the career I'd carefully built, I couldn't exactly refuse.
Hwan.
The name rose up unbidden, and with it came the flood of memory. Platinum blonde hair glowing in the afternoon light. A smile that could stop traffic. Wide brown eyes with flecks of goldgoing even wider as our eyes met. Sunshine and citrus wrapping around me like a warm embrace.
The bond snapping into place like a key turning in a lock.
