"Not going anywhere." His fingers stroked across my cheekbone, his purr joining Kol's in a harmony that made my whole body relax, his voice soft and certain.
Sawyer was last, appearing in the doorway like a shadow, his amber eyes sweeping over the pile of bodies in the nest, his expression unreadable, his massive frame filling the doorway.
For a moment, I thought he might leave, might decide this was too much, too close.
"Sawyer." I freed one hand and reached toward him, my voice soft but certain, my fingers stretching toward him. "Come here." He hesitated, something flickering in his amber eyes, vulnerability and want tangled together, his hands flexing at his sides.
"Crowded." His voice was rough, uncertain, his eyes scanning the already-full nest, his jaw tight.
"Don't care." I wiggled my fingers at him, insistent, my voice brooking no argument. "There's always room for you. Come here."
He moved then, crossing the room and climbing in, positioning himself at the edge of the nest, close but not quite touching, his movements careful and deliberate.
That wouldn't do. I grabbed his hand and tugged, pulling him closer, pulling until his chest was pressed against Kol's back and his arm was draped over all of us, his hand resting on my hip, his warmth seeping through the layers of bodies between us.
"There." I settled back into the pile, surrounded on all sides now, warm and held and safe, my voice satisfied. "Perfect."
"Bossy." Sawyer's voice was gruff, but there was something like wonder in it, his hand flexing on my hip, his amber eyes soft in the dim light.
"Yep." I grinned in the darkness, unrepentant, my voice light with amusement. "Better get used to it."
"Already am." His voice was softer now, almost tender, his thumb tracing absent patterns on my hip through my sleep shirt, his purr starting up low and quiet. For a while, no one spoke. We just lay there, breathing together, heartbeats syncing, scents mingling until I couldn't tell where one ended and another began.
"This is nice." Kol's voice was sleepy, muffled against my hair, his arm tightening around all of us, his purr a constant rumble against my back. "We should do this every night."
"We will." My voice came out thick with approaching sleep, my body heavier than it had ever been, weighed down by comfort instead of exhaustion, my eyes already closing. "I'm not giving this up."
"Good." Reid's voice was a low rumble, his hand still stroking my back in slow, steady passes, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. "Because we're not letting you go."
"Stuck with us now." Nolan's fingers were still in my hair, gentle and soothing, his purr harmonizing with the others, his voice a soft promise. "Forever."
"Forever's a long time." But I was smiling, my eyes too heavy to open, my heart too full to contain, my whole body loose and warm.
"Not long enough." Sawyer's voice was rough, barely above a whisper, his hand flexing on my hip like he needed to make sure I was real, his breath warm against the back of my neck. I fell asleep like that, surrounded by my Alphas, their purrs harmonizing into something that felt like a lullaby, their scents wrapping around me like the softest blanket.
My Omega purred, content in a way it had never been before. This was what she had always been searching for. This was what all those years of running, of hiding, of surviving had been leading to.
Home.
I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ASTER
I found him in the barn loft. I'd been looking for him for almost an hour, checking all his usual spots — the fence line where he liked to work alone, the equipment shed where he maintained the machinery, the quiet corner of the stables where he sometimes brushed down the horses after everyone else had gone to bed. He wasn't in any of those places, and eventually my feet had carried me to the old barn at the edge of the property, the one that housed hay bales and spare equipment and, apparently, one brooding Alpha.
The ladder was old but sturdy, and I climbed it without announcing myself, some instinct telling me that if I called out, he'd tell me not to come up. Better to ask forgiveness than permission. He was sitting with his back against a hay bale, knees drawn up, arms resting loosely across them. The late afternoon light filtered through gaps in the wooden slats, painting him in stripes of gold and shadow. He looked up when my head appeared over the edge of the loft floor, his ambereyes flashing with surprise before settling into something more guarded.
"Hey." I pulled myself the rest of the way up, brushing hay off my jeans, my voice casual even as my heart beat a little faster at the way he watched me, my fingers still gripping the top rung of the ladder. "Mind if I join you?"
He didn't answer, just shifted slightly to the side, making room. It wasn't an enthusiastic invitation, but it wasn't a rejection either, and I'd take what I could get. I settled beside him, close enough that our shoulders almost touched, the heat of his body radiating through the thin fabric of his flannel shirt. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The barn was quiet except for the distant sounds of the ranch — a horse whinnying, the clatter of equipment, someone laughing in the yard.
"How'd you find me?" His voice was rough, quiet, his amber eyes fixed on some point in the middle distance, his jaw tight like he wasn't sure he wanted an answer, his fingers picking at a loose thread on his jeans.
"Process of elimination." I shrugged, pulling my knees up to mirror his position, wrapping my arms around them, my voice light despite the tension I could feel radiating off him. "You weren't anywhere else. This seemed like the kind of place you'd go when you needed to think."
Something flickered in his expression — surprise, maybe, or something softer that he quickly buried, his brow furrowing slightly.
