The nest is as it's been—pillows, blankets, soft things. My things. Their scents are ghosts in the fabric, not even legible to my sensitive nose. Eli's is the strongest, but even that is a memory more than a presence.
He looks at it for all of two seconds before he moves.
"Off. Please."
"What?"
"The scent spray." He points to the bottle on my nightstand. "Off. No more neutralizing. You smell like chemicals and spite."
"It was supposed to make things easier."
"For who? You, or the people who couldn't deal with your distress?"
Shame burns under my skin.The chemical spray had become my shield—a way to mask the increasing sourness seeping into my omega scent with each day I went without an alpha's touch. Let Ragon think his "boundary" wasn't breaking me. Let him believe I was fine.
"I can't... If I smell like this, it's obvious. The need. The everything. It feels like too much."
He steps closer. "Vee. Youarea lot. That's the point. You are not supposed to be turned down to 'background.'"
My throat tightens.
"Okay," I whisper.
He picks up the bottle, studies it like it insulted him personally, then sets it facedown in the drawer. Closes it.
The room smells different as soon as he exhales—richer, warmer, his scent unfurling like it's been holding its breath.
My body stutters.
"Into the nest. Before you fall over."
I obey without thinking.
My knees sink into familiar give. This is where I belong. I know that with a bone-deep certainty. For weeks, it's been a place I sit in alone and try to pretend that's enough.
Eli climbs in after me, moving slowly, as if I might spook. He settles behind me, one leg on either side of my hips, his chest to my back. An alpha-shaped bracket around my smaller, twitchy body.
"Okay?" he murmurs, mouth close to my ear.
"Ask me in five minutes."
His arms wrap around my middle, firm and steady. One hand slides under my hoodie, palm spreading over my ribcage, the heat of him seeping into my skin.
I make a sound I've never made before. A sort of half-wail, half-sigh.
"Jesus. You're shaking."
"Blame your boss. I— I needed this. I didn't realize how bad until—"
Until his weight, his warmth, his scent are all around me, and my instincts, starved and frantic, finally slam against something they recognize as home.
He nuzzles into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. His stubble scrapes my skin, and it feels obscene andperfect. "I'm going to fix your nest. Right now. Starting with this."
He starts scenting.
Not subtle. Not polite.
Full, deliberate rubs of his jaw and mouth along my throat, my shoulder, the line of my jaw. His scent glands work overtime, laying claim, replacing neutral spray and fear with tea and warmth andEli.
