I reach for the door handle with trembling fingers. The metal is cold against my skin, but there's a warmth building in my chest that has nothing to do with temperature. The door swings open smoothly, silently, revealing--
"Oh my god."
It's a library. A full, actual, real library, somehow crammed into what used to be a garden shed and transformed into paradise.
The interior has been completely, utterly transformed. The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, painted white and filled--absolutely overflowing--with books. Not just any books. My books. The ones I'd been collecting in my tiny apartment for years, the ones I'd had to leave behind when I fled, the ones I'd been slowly, quietly mourning the loss of. And mixed in with my existing collection are hundreds of newadditions, spines I recognize from my TBR list, titles I've been dreaming about for months and years, books I'd told myself I'd buy "someday" when I had the money and the space.
The color scheme in here is different from the nest upstairs--softer, more muted, designed for peaceful reading rather than cozy gaming. Sage greens and warm creams and touches of dusty rose, like a secret garden brought indoors. A comfortable reading chair sits in one corner, overstuffed and inviting, the kind you could sink into for hours and forget the rest of the world exists. A small electric fireplace has been installed against one wall, currently flickering with cozy artificial flames that cast dancing shadows across the room. There's a ladder on wheels--an actual rolling library ladder, like something from Beauty and the Beast--for reaching the highest shelves.
And the books. God, the books. I step closer to the nearest shelf, my fingers trailing over the spines with something like reverence. Fantasy epics I've been dying to read. Cozy mysteries I've bookmarked online. Romance novels with beautiful covers that I've admired from afar, too expensive to justify when I was scraping by on tips and dreams. They're all here. Every single title from my to-be-read list, arranged by genre and mood and even color in a way that's both organized and beautiful.
"This whole cozy thing is apparently some sort of trend," Julian says from behind me, his voice attempting casual and landing somewhere closer to hopeful. "They say on TikTok that it's romantic when a man gifts his partner books. And since you're going to be our Omega..." He clears his throat, and I can hear the vulnerability beneath the surface of his polished exterior. "We figured gifting you an entire shed full of every book on your TBR list--cozy and fantasy and romance and whatever else your heart desires--would be a good way to solidify things. To make it official. To show you that we're serious about this. About you."
I turn around slowly, my heart pounding, my eyes still blurry with tears. All three of them are standing in the doorway of the shed, backlit by the snowy afternoon light, watching me with expressions that hover somewhere between hopeful and terrified. Three Alphas, powerful and capable and so often confident, looking at me like my answer is the most important thing in the world.
"So," Tank says, and for the first time since I've known him, he actually looks uncertain. Vulnerable. The big, scary, ex-military bodyguard who could kill a man with his bare hands is looking at me like I hold his heart in my hands. "Will you be our official Omega? This Valentine's Day?"
"For real," Elias adds, his voice soft but steady. "Not temporary. Not an arrangement. Not until some arbitrary deadline. For keeps. Forever. However long you'll have us."
"We want you," Julian finishes quietly, and there's so much emotion packed into those three simple words that it makes my breath catch. "All of us. Forever. If you'll have us."
I'm crying again. Or maybe I never stopped. The tears are flowing freely down my cheeks, but I'm also laughing, this strange hybrid sound that comes from somewhere deep in my chest where all my hopes and fears live tangled together.
"Yes," I say, and my voice cracks on the word but I don't care. Nothing has ever felt more right than this moment. "Yes. Yes, I'll be your Omega. I want to be yours. I want--" I hiccup through a sob, wiping at my tear-stained cheeks. "I want all of this. I want you. All of you. Forever."
They close the distance between us in seconds. Suddenly I'm being lifted, passed between embraces, kissed on the forehead and cheeks and lips by three different mouths. Tank's hug is crushing and solid and smells like home. Elias's is warm and enveloping and makes me feel cherished beyond measure. Julian's is careful and tender and whispers of a man who'slearning how to be vulnerable, how to let his walls down, how to love without armor.
Sasha, absolutely not to be left out, pushes his way into the middle of our group hug and starts licking whoever he can reach, his tail thumping against the floor of my new library hard enough to shake the shelves.
"Welcome to the pack," Tank murmurs against my hair. "Officially. Finally."
"About time," Elias adds with a watery laugh. "I've been calling you ours in my head for weeks. Felt weird that it wasn't official yet."
"I told you the grapes worked," I say, and it comes out half-laugh, half-sob. "Twelve wishes. Twelve grapes. And now I have a pack."
Julian huffs against my shoulder. "Still delulu," he mutters, but he's smiling--actually smiling, wide and genuine and beautiful in a way that transforms his whole face--and he doesn't pull away from the embrace.
I laugh wetly, surrounded by my Alphas, standing in my library, in the house that's now officially my home. Snow falls softly outside the windows. Sasha's tail wags against my leg. Three heartbeats surround me, steady and strong and mine.
A month ago, I was running from bounty hunters with nothing but the clothes on my back and a desperate hope that somewhere, somehow, there might be a place for me. Now I have three Alphas who built me a nest and a library and asked me to be theirs forever.
A month ago, I ate twelve grapes under a table and wished for a pack that would actually want me.
Now I'm standing in a shed full of books, wrapped in my Alphas' arms, crying happy tears while a malamute licks my ankle.
This is the best Valentine's gift I could have ever yearned for.
CHAPTER 37
Blessings, Fevers, And Fluffy Snowfall
~ROSEMARIE~
Something is wrong with me.
I lean against the counter of Hazel’s Bakery, pressing my palms flat against the cool marble surface in an attempt to ground myself.
The chill feels good against my overheated skin--too good, actually, which is concerning. I've been running warm all day, a persistent flush that started somewhere around mid-morning and has been steadily building ever since. My skin feels too tight, too sensitive, like even the brush of my own clothing is registering as something more than it should.
