"I’m going into her nest," I say, unbuttoning my shirt at the collar, then opening my chest to the air. “Strip down,” I command.
“What?” Grason, however, looks like he's been struck. "But...the nest, Cass. You can’t go in if she doesn’t invite you.” He looks at Warren. “Right?”
“I know that,” I say as I push my shirt off my shoulders and let it fall, then I remove my pants. “And I also know we don’t have the luxury of waiting for her to find her words right now.”
I straighten slowly, careful of my knee, and look between them. “She’s sick. She’s in shock. Her instincts are screaming for safety, and she doesn’t have the capacity to negotiate boundaries the way an omega normally would.” I draw in a breath, keeping my anger leashed. “She needs her mates. All of us.Now.”
Warren’s jaw tightens as he watches me, eyes flicking toward the nest and then back to me. He doesn’t argue. He understands exactly what I’m saying and starts to undress.
Grason swallows hard. “And if she never feels safe in that nest again?”
“That’s on me,” I say without hesitation. “I’ll take the blame, but I won’t stand here and let her disappear inside herself because we were too afraid to fucking act.”
Grason stands frozen for a heartbeat longer, his gazedarting from my face to the trembling nest and back. But then, with a shuddering breath, he gives in. His hands go to his belt, his movements jerky, desperate.
Beck is the only one who doesn't move. He watches us with those big blue eyes, his knuckles white where he grips the doorframe.
"Beck," I say, my voice softer now, and he looks right at me. "Your clothes, beta. Tansy needs your calm. She needs to feel you, too."
He swallows, a visible bob of his throat, and then nods. He moves slowly, removing his shirt, then his pants. His slim, almost wiry frame is a stark contrast to our bulk.
Then I turn back to Tansy.
My knee protests as I sink to the edge of the nest, a fiery reminder of my weakness, but I push past it and crawl forward. The soft blankets yield under my weight.
Behind me, I feel a dip in the mattress as Warren and Grason enter the nest. Beck hangs back a little, giving us space but still close enough to be part of the circle.
"Tansy," I murmur, reaching out.
The moment my hand rests on the blanket, her shuddering stops. It's a sudden, jarring stillness. I feel her holding her breath. Then, a small, trembling hand shoots out from under the covers and grabs my wrist. Her grip is surprisingly strong and her fingers cold.
That's all the permission I need.
I move, slowly closing the distance until I'm lying beside her, my body a solid wall of heat against her back. Warren and Grason move in sync, a perfectly orchestrated unit. Warren settles in front of her, blocking her view of the room, while Grason moves near her head and Beck kneels at the foot of the nest.
The air is thick, saturated with our combined scents, aliving, breathing thing determined to overwrite the memory of whatever horror she's trapped in.
Reaching under the blanket, I slide my other hand from her shoulder down her side, my touch firm, possessive. My fingers meet the warm, bare skin of her back. She clearly took off her dress, desperate to feel the soft comfort of her nest.
I trail my fingers up the delicate curve of her spine until I find the small, metal clasp of her bra. With a flick of my thumb, I release it. The hooks spring apart with a soft, definitive click. Tansy’s breath hitches, a sharp, audible gasp in the quiet room.
“You’re okay.” I start to purr, then slowly pull the blanket back.
The sight of my omega hits me like a physical blow.
She’s curled on her side, her lavender dress gone, with her knees drawn up tight in a defensive ball. Her dark red curls are a wild, tangled halo against the pale pillows, and her face is a mess of pale, tear-streaked skin, her brown eyes wide and glassy, staring at nothing.
I lean in and press my lips to the side of her neck, right over our mating mark. "We're here, Tansy," I murmur against her skin. "We've got you."
Warren gently takes one of her shaking hands, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her palm. "Let go, omega," he rumbles, his voice the low, steady hum of a distant thunderstorm. “Feel us. Nothing else exists.”
Grason reaches down, his long arms hooking under hers. With a smooth, powerful flex of his biceps, he lifts her, pulling her up and back until her spine is flush with his chest. He settles her against him, his hard cock pressing firmly against the soft curve of her ass. He’s a line of pure, desperate heat, his face buried in her wild curls as hecontinues his stream of whispered reassurances. "So beautiful, our omega. So strong. Let us love you. Please, baby, let us love you."
I shift, and my knee screams in protest, but I completely ignore it. I gently maneuver her so her legs are stretched out between Warren and me. Her eyes are still wide, still lost, but they're moving now, darting between our faces. At least she’s seeing us…I think.
My hand finds her thigh again, and I slide it up, over her soft skin, until my thumb is brushing against the silky fabric of her panties. She tenses, a full-body shudder, but Warren is there, his hand stroking her hair, his scent a calming balm. Grason's arm is a band of steel across her stomach, holding her steady.
"It's okay," I whisper, my gaze locked on hers. "I promise, it's okay." I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties and pull them down, slow and deliberate. She lifts her hips in a small, trusting gesture, and the last barrier is gone.
