"You definitely tried." Nolan set a plate of perfectly golden toast on the table, followed by butter and jam, his movements easy and practiced. He caught my eye and winked, his freckled face soft with affection. "Don't worry, there's also bacon. Sawyer made the bacon, so it's actually edible."
"Hey!" Kol protested, but he was already reaching for the bacon, piling several strips onto his plate alongside his own questionable eggs.
Breakfast settled into an easy rhythm after that—plates passed, food distributed, coffee refilled. Reid took his place at the head of the table, his solid presence anchoring the whole room. Nolan sat across from me next to Sawyer, his gentle calm balancing Kol's chaotic energy. Kol kept up a steady stream of chatter, bouncing from topic to topic with the enthusiasm of a puppy who'd had too much coffee.
"So I was thinking," Kol said around a mouthful of toast, his amber eyes bright with whatever idea had just occurred to him. He swallowed and leaned toward me, his shoulder bumping mine. "Now that you're living here—like, really living here—we should do something to celebrate. A movie night, maybe? Or a bonfire? Oh, we could do s'mores! Do you like s'mores? Everyone likes s'mores."
"Breathe, Kol." Reid's voice was dry, but the look he gave the younger Alpha was fond. He was eating his eggs—the burnt ones, without complaint—his dark eyes crinkling slightly at the corners.
"I'm breathing, I'm just also talking." Kol turned back to me, undeterred. "What do you think? Celebration? S'mores? Both?"
"I've never had s'mores." The admission slipped out before I could stop it, and I immediately wished I could take it back. It was such a small thing, such a normal childhood experience, but I'd never had a childhood that included things like campfires and marshmallows and people who wanted to celebrate anything with me.
The table went quiet for a moment—not awkward, just... weighted. Like they were all processing this new piece of information about my past, adding it to the growing picture of who I was and where I'd come from.
"Well." Kol's voice was softer now, but no less warm. His amber eyes held mine, and I saw something fierce flash through them—determination, maybe, or protectiveness. "That's definitely getting fixed. This weekend. Bonfire. S'mores. Non-negotiable."
"Agreed." Nolan's voice was gentle, his green eyes bright with quiet emotion. He reached across the table and gave my hand a brief squeeze, his touch warm and grounding. Even Sawyer nodded, his pale blue eyes steady on my face. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. The agreement was written in every line of his weathered face.
"Okay." My voice came out rough, and I had to clear my throat. "Okay. S'mores sound good." Kol beamed like I'd given him the greatest gift in the world. The conversation moved on after that—ranch business, plans for the day, whether the fence on the north pasture needed reinforcing. I listened more than I talked, content to let their voices wash over me, to watch the way they interacted with each other.
Reid spoke the least, but when he did, everyone listened. His authority wasn't loud or demanding—it was just there, woven into the fabric of who he was. Nolan was the peacemaker, smoothing over Kol's chaos with gentle humor and quietcompetence. Sawyer was the silent pillar, his presence steady and grounding even when he didn't say a word.
And Kol... Kol was sunshine. Bright and warm and impossible to ignore, filling every silence with energy and laughter. I was starting to understand how they fit together. How each of them filled a space the others needed, how their differences made them stronger rather than weaker. They weren't just four Alphas living in the same house—they were a pack. A family.
They were trying to make me part of it.
"Hey." Kol's voice was quieter now, meant just for me. He'd stopped bouncing in his seat, his amber eyes soft and almost hesitant as they met mine. His hand was resting on the table between us, fingers twitching slightly like he wanted to reach for me but wasn't sure if he should. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure." I set down my coffee mug, giving him my full attention. His scent had shifted—still orange blossoms and warmth, but with something underneath. Nervousness, maybe.
"You don't have to say yes." He was speaking quickly, the words tumbling over each other. His honey-blond hair fell across his forehead as he ducked his head slightly, suddenly unable to meet my eyes. "I know it's a lot, and we're still figuring things out, and I don't want to push or make you uncomfortable or?—"
"Kol." I cut him off gently, fighting a smile at his rambling. "Just ask." He took a breath, his chest rising and falling beneath his ridiculous apron. When he looked up, his amber eyes were earnest and vulnerable in a way that made my chest ache.
"Can I scent you?" The words came out soft, almost shy. His fingers curled against the table, knuckles going slightly white. "Just—just a little. Not a full scent-mark or anything, I know that's a bigger thing, but I just... you smell like the house now, which is good, that's really good, but you don't smell like me,and I want—" He stopped, swallowed hard. "I want you to carry a little piece of me with you. If that's okay."
The table had gone quiet again. I could feel Reid's eyes on me, Nolan's gentle attention, Sawyer's steady presence. None of them said anything, leaving the decision entirely to me.
Scenting. I knew what it meant—had learned about it in fragments over the years, pieced together from overheard conversations and half-understood biology. It was intimate. Personal. A way of marking someone as yours, of leaving a piece of yourself on them for the world to smell.
Kol wanted that with me. Wanted other people to know, just from being near me, that I belonged to him in some way. The old fear stirred in my chest—the voice that said this was too much, too fast, that I was giving pieces of myself away that I'd never get back. But underneath the fear, there was something else. Something warm and wanting that recognized this for what it was: not claiming, but caring. Not possession, but protection.
"Okay." My voice came out steadier than I expected. "Yeah. You can scent me." Kol's whole face lit up, his amber eyes going bright with joy, his scent blooming into something sweet and happy that filled the kitchen. But he didn't lunge at me the way I half-expected. Instead, he slid his chair even closer, moving slowly, giving me time to change my mind.
"Tell me if it's too much." His voice was barely above a whisper, his breath warm against my cheek. He was close now, closer than he'd ever been, and I could see the flecks of gold in his amber eyes, the faint freckles scattered across his nose. "Tell me and I'll stop. Okay?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice. Kol leaned in, his nose brushing against my temple first—light, barely there. Then he moved down, trailing along my hairline, breathing me in even as he breathed himself out. His cheek brushed against mine, soft and warm, and I felt the slight rasp of stubble against my skin.
His scent wrapped around me—orange blossoms and honey and something deeper, something that was purely Kol. It seeped into my hair, my skin, my clothes, layering over the house scent I'd already absorbed and making it richer. Fuller.
He nuzzled against my neck, right where my pulse fluttered beneath my skin, and made a sound low in his throat—a pleased rumble that vibrated through my whole body. His hand came up to cup the back of my head, fingers threading gently through my hair, holding me close but not trapping me.
"Thank you." His voice was muffled against my throat, rough with emotion. "Thank you for letting me." I didn't know what to say, so I just leaned into him, letting myself be held, letting his scent sink into my bones. It felt good. Safe. Right in a way I hadn't known I was looking for.
When he finally pulled back, his amber eyes were shining, his cheeks flushed, his whole body radiating happiness so strongly I could practically taste it in the air.
"You smell like me now." He sounded awed, like he couldn't quite believe it. His hand was still cupping the back of my head, his thumb tracing gentle circles against my scalp. "You smell like me and the house and—" He stopped, swallowed. "You smell like pack."
