Her eyes search my face for the catch, the judgment, the moment I take it back. When she doesn't find any of it, her chin dips, her shoulders drop, and she exhales like she's been holding her breath for years.
"Can we see it?" Milo's hand finds her elbow. "Like, properly?"
A wet laugh escapes her. "You want to see my nest?"
"I really, really do."
She leads us in, adjusting pillows as we enter, pulling back the top layer of blankets to make room. I've been in nests before. Milo cycles through arrangements every few months, and I've sat through enough of his redesigns to know the architecture of one by heart. But settling into this one, knowing an Alpha's hands built it, that Iris spent time layering these blankets and tucking these pillows into place in secret, carrying the same instinct my brother does while hiding it from everyone... that's what sits heavy in my chest as the three of us find our places.
Iris settles cross-legged against the headboard with a pillow clutched to her chest, the wine retrieved from the dresser and passed between us. Her composure pieces itself back together slowly, less rigid this time, more honest.
"My father doesn't know." She says it to the pillow more than to us. "About any of this. If he found out his Alpha daughter nests..." The sentence dies on her tongue as she turns her wineglass by the stem. "I've hidden it since I started building it. Two years. Nobody's seen this room."
"Until now," Milo says.
"Until now."
The quiet that follows is heavy. Milo's shoulder presses warm against mine as Iris sits with her wine glass turning slowly between her fingers, her gaze somewhere past the fairy lights. Then she sets down her glass, turns to Milo, and reaches for his face.
Her palm cups his jaw, her thumb tracing slowly along his cheekbone, as Milo's eyes flutter shut. He leans into her hand, pressing his cheek against her palm, his whole body going soft, his breath stuttering against her wrist, his scent flooding the nest so thick I can taste it on my tongue.
"You're good," she murmurs. "You know that?"
The sound he makes isn't quite a word. His hand wraps around her wrist, holding her there, his fingers trembling against her skin. My twin brother has been waiting for a moment like this for I don’t know how long. But seeing them together, I realize I’ve been waiting for something like this much longer.
Something raw presses up against the composure I've held all night, my scent deepening, heat pooling low in my stomach. Milo is beautiful like this, open and unguarded and given over completely, and Iris is steady above him, her thumb still stroking his cheek.
Then she turns to me.
Her hand falls away from Milo's face but she doesn't reach for me. Her dark blue eyes find mine across the nest, her chin lifting slightly. She's waiting, giving me the same choice I gave her in the doorway.
I close the distance myself.
My hand finds the back of her neck, fingers sliding around the nape of her neck, and I pull hard enough to make my intentionclear. Her breath catches in her throat but she doesn't yield, her fingers gripping the front of my hoodie, pulling back with equal force. We hold there, inches apart, neither giving ground, her breath warm against my mouth, mine coming harder than I want it to.
A slow smile spreads across her lips. "You don't want to give in, do you?"
"No."
"Good." Her grip tightens on my hoodie. "Neither do I."
I kiss her. Or she kisses me. The line blurs because neither of us concedes the distance, meeting in the middle with enough force that her teeth catch my bottom lip. My hand tightens in her braids as she makes a sound against my mouth that drops straight through me, my control slipping another inch.
Milo presses close against Iris' side, his mouth finding the curve of her neck. Her head tips back with a sharp inhale, but my hand stays in her braids, keeping her gaze on mine even as Milo's lips trace down to her collarbone. Her pupils are blown wide, the composure she rebuilt after the nest reveal dissolving willingly this time, and when Milo's mouth reaches the swell of her chest she lets out a shaky breath.
"Tell me what you want," I say against her mouth. This night could ruin everything but I don’t care. There’s no real future come tomorrow morning when we have to return to the reality of our lives with classes and practice and staring at our coach like we didn’t enter Iris’ nest the night before.
Her hand fists tighter in my hoodie. "Both of you."
Milo's fingers find the hem of her blouse. She lifts her arms and lets him pull it over her head, his hands tracing along her ribs, her stomach, and the curve of her waist. He presses his mouth to the space between her breasts, breathing her in, his eyes closed. When he looks up at me, his expression is wrecked,glassy-eyed and flushed, revealing a dynamic we’ve only thought about.
He’s waiting for direction.
"Take care of her," I tell him, my voice lower than I recognize.
Understanding settles across his features and he nods before his mouth starts moving down her body, pressing slow, open kisses along her chest, her ribs, and the soft skin below her navel. Iris' breathing goes ragged, her back arching off the pillows as we slide her down to lie flat. Her fingers thread into Milo's hair, gripping the messy waves, and the sound she makes when his mouth reaches her hip bone is something I'm going to hear in my sleep for weeks.
I tilt her face back to me. My thumb traces her bottom lip and she opens for me, her tongue brushing the pad of my thumb, the heat of it shooting down my spine. I replace my thumb with my mouth, kissing her as Milo works his way between her thighs.
