Vanilla. Soft floral. Marie.
Not just a hint.
Layered.
She scent marked him before he came.
My nest, this little patch of air that's finally started to smell like me and Eli again, fills with the echo of another omega's scent in half a breath.
"Hey."
He looks unsure. That's new. Hands in his pockets, curls a little damp from a quick shower, T-shirt rumpled. He hovers just inside the doorway.
"Hey," I say, voice hoarse.
Eli squeezes my waist once, then shifts me gently off his chest. "I'll give you two space. Text me if you need me."
I grab his shirt before he can fully move. "Stay until he actually gets in the nest," I whisper.
"I would never abandon you at the doorway portion of the evening."
He slides out of the blankets and crosses to Drake. For a moment they stand close, alphas measuring each other. Eli claps Drake's shoulder once, firm.
"Don't be an idiot."
"Too late."
Eli leaves, giving me one last look—Are you sure?—and I nod.
The door clicks shut.
It's just me, Drake, and the complicated snarl of our history.
He clears his throat. "So. Can I...?"
He gestures vaguely at the nest.
"Yeah. It's still partially yours, last I checked."
He winces. "Vee."
"Come on. I'm not going to bite."
"You say that now," he mutters, but he kicks off his socks and climbs in.
His weight pulls the nest around us automatically. Years of shared nights teach blankets where to fall. He settles on his back; I end up half-curled against his side by instinct.
Then his scent hits me full-force and my whole nervous system protests.
Too much Marie.
She's thread-woven through him. Neck, chest, hair. Her omega sweetness braided with his brightness until I can't pick out where he ends and she starts.
My body knows he's my alpha.
My instincts know, too.
Except there's this screaming, instinctivewrongunder it—territory muddled, nests crossed.
