Graham’s hand glides along my bare back. “They’re building you a temporary nest.”
A soft noise escapes me. Embarrassed. Touched.
“Why?” I murmur.
“Because you need one,” Graham answers simply. “Because you’re ours to take care of.”
Carson dumps the blankets at the foot of the bed, then pauses and grins at me. “It’s a starter nest,” he says with a wink. “We’ll get you a real one later. Nesting room. All the works. Heated floor. Soundproof walls?—”
“Extra plush,” Hunter adds, tossing a pillow onto the mattress. “All your favorite fabrics. Whatever scent calms you.”
Graham slides off the bed to help them, and I sit up slowly, the soreness in my body a delicious ache, and watch as these three—my bodyguards, my captors, my…everything—reshape the bed into a soft fortress. My fortress.
Hunter throws down the final blanket, then straightens. “Come here,” he says gently, crooking a finger.
I crawl forward, sinking into the mess of blankets and pillows with a sigh that borders on a purr. Graham slips in behind me, wrapping one strong arm around my waist. Carson flops down in front of me, his fingers instantly finding my hip, tracing lazy shapes.
Hunter drops onto the bed behind Graham, but he doesn’t stay distant. He presses his hand to my thigh, warm and steady.
It’s makeshift.
But it’s perfect.
The heat of their bodies surrounds me. Their scents—butter pecan ice cream, hot cocoa with marshmallows and whiskey, and that brown sugar and coffee—wrap around my senses, soothing something raw in my chest.
“You like it?” Carson murmurs.
I press my cheek to his chest and nod. “It’s perfect.”
“We’ll build you a real one,” Graham says against my hair. “A space all your own.”
“With a locking door so the world can’t get in,” Hunter adds.
“With my favorite alpha hoodies in every corner,” I tease softly.
Carson smirks. “You’re gonna have to fight me for them.”
I laugh—quiet and free—and something warm unfurls in my chest. I don’t need the locking door. I don’t even need the real nest, not yet. Because right now, I have this.
Them.
Their touches anchor me. Their voices ease the last of the ache in my heart. And when I finally let my eyes fall closed, it's not fear that follows me into sleep.
It's the sound of their breathing. The warmth of their skin.
And the knowledge that, for once, I’m home.
I wake warm.
Not just from the pile of blankets cocooning me or the comforting weight of bodies pressed close on either side, but from something deeper—something slow and honey-sweet, pooling in my chest and bleeding into every limb.
For a moment, I don’t move.
I just…breathe.
The scent of their musk wraps around me, filling me with the feeling of safety. It’s layered, soothing, pack-scented. My pack. All mine.
Graham’s arm is heavy across my waist, his hand possessive even in sleep. Carson is curled along my back now, his nose tucked into my hair, and Hunter is close, too—his foot brushing mine under the blankets, the quiet rhythm of his breathing keeping time with mine.
