“You’re—you’re not mad?”
“Not at all.”
“Not even about... all this?” I ask, waving around at us and the little alcove I’ve built us.
His gaze darts between the draped fabric above us and the twopillows and blankets I have curled around me. He hesitates, as if he’s trying to pick his words carefully.
“No. Not at all, Sugar.” His hand reaches out and he gently brushes some of my messy bedhead away from my face. “You felt safe enough to not only build a nest in my trailer, but to make it around me. That’s... how in the world could I be mad at that?”
“You—you don’t think it’s gross? Or disgusting? Or weird?” I pepper him with questions because his answer feels too good to be true. Especially after the way anything related to giving into our omega instincts was viewed back at the facility.
“What? No,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t know a lot about omegas, but I’m pretty sure stuff like nest building is in the definition in the dictionary. I’m just surprised you were willing to do that here after—after everything you’ve been through.”
“Do you like it?” I ask, perking up. Now that I know he’s not upset, there’s a part of me that desperately craves his approval. “I know it’s not a lot, but it’s my first one, and it must be at least all right if we both slept in it.”
“It’s fantastic, Sugar. I just wish I had more stuff for you to use,” he says, his hazel eyes growing sad as his thick brows draw down. “This was your first nest?”
“Mhm! We weren’t allowed to give in to our nesting instincts back at the facility. Any of our omega instincts were… bad.”
His expression grows dark, and I instantly regret my words. The last thing I want to do is upset him, not when he’s being so nice.
Before he says what he obviously wants to say, his phone buzzes incessantly again.
“Fuck,” he mutters, glancing at the screen. He grows a little pale, wordlessly staring at the messages on his phone.
“What’s going on?” I ask, leaning my head next to his so I can see what’s going on.
Dad
Lunch at noon. Bring the omega.
I want to see how well you’ve been able to train her myself.
Something dark and insidious wraps itself around my ribcage, squeezing until I can’t breathe.
I push myself to my feet and tear the sheet off the back of the chair. My movements are jerky as I follow the instincts of my furious inner omega. I ball the sheet up in my hand as I toss it in a pile at Rowan’s feet, my chest heaving.
“What—what’s wrong, Sugar?”
“I don’t wantthemin my safe space,” I say, my voice closer to a growl than I ever thought possible.
Rowan’s family are the ones responsible for all the pain Rowan and the other fighters have had to endure. No part of them, not even their text messages, is allowed to be anywhere near my nest.
It’s strange, I’ve never felt likethisbefore.
“Shit, I should’ve thought about that. I’m so sorry, Sugar,” Rowan says, pushing himself up so he’s sitting up with his feet on the floor. He lets out a soft groan, one of his arms reaching to cradle his ribs where I know the worst of his bruises are. “I should’ve known it was someone in my family. No one else would bother me at the asscrack of dawn.”
His words seem to soothe the jagged edges of my mind and my breathing calms.
“Here, let me get you your medicine,” I say, glancing at the clock on the microwave. He’s long overdue for another dose, so no wonder he’s in so much pain.
“Thanks, Sugar,” he says, but I can tell in the tone of his voice that his mind is elsewhere.
We sit in silence after he downs the medicine with a swig of water.
“Remember how I explained to Griffin that he’dhave to put on a show if he wanted this whole plan to work?” Rowan says slowly, his gaze fixed on the floor.
I hug my knees to my chest as I offer him a nod.
