"Let her." Reid's chest vibrated with his purr, his hand stroking down my arm in slow, soothing motions, his voice a low rumble. "She's had a long few days."
"We should move to the nest." Nolan suggested, his voice quiet, his hand still warm on my knee, practical even in tenderness. "She'll be more comfortable."
I wanted to protest — wanted to say I was perfectly comfortable right here, thank you very much — but the words wouldn't form. Instead, I felt myself being lifted, Reid's arms strong and secure around me, his scent surrounding me like a blanket, his heartbeat steady against my ear.
The nest was exactly as I'd left it — blankets and pillows and shirts arranged in careful layers, the scents of all four Alphas woven through the fabric. Reid laid me down in the center, gentle as if I were made of glass, and I immediately reached for him, making a small sound of protest when he started to pull away.
"I'm not going anywhere." His voice was soft, amused, his lips brushing against my forehead, his body settling beside mine, his arm coming around my waist. "Just making room for the others."
The mattress dipped as Kol climbed in on my other side, his warmth pressing against my back, his arm draping over my waist to tangle with Reid's, his chin hooking over my shoulder. Then Nolan, settling near my head, his hand finding my hair and stroking through it with gentle fingers, his scent wrapping around me like a second blanket. And finally Sawyer, taking his usual position at the foot of the bed, his hand wrapping around my ankle like an anchor, his thumb resuming those small, soothing circles.
Four purrs rumbled to life, filling the room with a low, harmonious vibration that seemed to resonate in my chest. Four scents surrounded me — cedar and sunshine and pine and earth — creating something that smelled like safety and home and forever.
I fell asleep between one breath and the next, wrapped in my pack, finally, completely whole.
I woke to the gray light of early morning and the sensation of being surrounded.
Reid was still pressed against my front, his face relaxed in sleep, years of tension smoothed away, his dark lashes fanned against his cheeks. One of his hands had found its way under myshirt during the night, splayed warm and possessive against my stomach.
Kol was plastered against my back, his arm still tangled with Reid's, his breath warm and even against the back of my neck, his sunshine scent soft with sleep. Sometime during the night, he'd thrown one leg over mine, pinning me in place like he was afraid I might disappear.
Nolan had shifted in his sleep, ending up curled around my head like a cat, his hand still resting in my hair. His face was soft, peaceful, the professional mask he usually wore completely absent, his lips slightly parted.
And Sawyer — Sawyer had moved from the foot of the bed sometime during the night. He was pressed against Kol's back now, one arm stretched across all of us, his hand resting on Reid's hip. Like even in sleep, he needed to be connected to the whole pack.
Bodies everywhere. Warmth everywhere. Scent everywhere.
I should have felt trapped. Should have felt suffocated by all the weight and heat and presence.
Instead, I felt safe. Cherished. Home.
I lay there for a long time, watching the light change, listening to the steady rhythm of four sleeping breaths, memorizing the feeling of being completely surrounded by the people I loved.
The people I loved.
The thought settled into my chest like it had always belonged there, warm and certain and terrifying all at once.
Marley's shop was warm and bright, filled with the scent of fabric and thread and the lavender tea she always had steeping in the corner.
"Look at you." She set down her embroidery hoop, her weathered face creasing into a smile, her sharp eyes taking in everything — my expression, my posture, the way I moved, the subtle changes in my scent. "You look different."
"Different how?" I settled into my usual chair, pulling out the project I'd been working on — a series of small, carefully stitched squares that would eventually become something bigger, my fingers finding the familiar rhythm of the needle.
"Settled." She picked up her tea, steam curling from the cup, watching me over the rim with knowing eyes, her voice warm with approval. "Happy. Like something finally clicked into place."
"Maybe it did." I couldn't help the smile that curved my lips, my fingers moving automatically through the familiar motions of threading my needle, warmth blooming in my chest.
"Mhmm." She set down her cup with a soft clink, her expression softening into something almost maternal, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "You smell like a bonded pack. Even without the marks."
I looked up, startled, my needle pausing mid-stitch, my heart skipping a beat. "I do?"
"Your scent's changed." She gestured vaguely at me with one weathered hand, her nose wrinkling slightly as she drew in a breath, her eyes closing briefly as she sorted through the layers. "Used to be just you — honey and wildflowers. Pretty, but alone. Now it's all mixed up with cedar and sunshine and pine and earth. Like your scents have started to blend together. Like pack."
I hadn't noticed. Hadn't realized the change had been happening gradually, invisibly, every time one of them touched me or held me or surrounded me with their presence.
"Is that... normal?" I asked, my voice smaller than I intended, uncertainty creeping in, my hands stilling on the fabric. "Without the bond bite?"
"It happens sometimes." Marley picked up her embroidery again, her fingers moving with practiced ease, her voice matter-of-fact but gentle. "When a pack is close. When an Omega spends enough time surrounded by her Alphas. The scents start to merge. It's not the same as a proper bond, but it's a sign. A promise of what could be."
