“I’m going to take her up to the nest.” I shove out of the chair and stride toward the door without waiting for confirmation.
She’s seen the nest several times, but we’ve never made it past the pack bed. Even that seems to be pushing the limits of how far Charlotte can be away from Lukas without panicking.
This is a special circumstance.
She needs a safe space that will soothe her instincts while she breaks down.
“I’ll check on Lucky,” Patrick says to Charlotte as I tug the door open. “We’ll stay with him.”
“See?” I stomp toward the stairs like a man on a mission. “They’ll be with him, and I’ll be with you. I know you’re worried about him, but he doesn’t need to see you when you’re this upset.”
It scares me more that she’s frozen and isn’t even crying. The bond is too chaotic to pick up much of anything from her thoughts, but she’s scared. That fear is causing a physical reaction.
The nest has a stale smell from going so long without being used, but I flick on the overhead fan and auxiliary lighting as we enter.
Charlotte hasn’t said a word, and I’m not sure anything I say would help right now. Mostly, I want her to know that she’s not alone. If she needs to have a breakdown, I’m here. I’ll hold her through it, and we can pick up the pieces afterward.
I skirt around the cushioned mattress that takes up the middle of the room. It’s far too open for her to feel safe right now, but it’s a secondary space for the last few days of an omega’s heat. We bypass that for the time being, and I take the steps up to the den-style nest. It’s a smaller, confined space with three walls and a thick curtain that can be pulled to cover the fourth.
Patrick had the space renovated a few years ago, but I believe the housekeepers have been in regularly to clean it, which is a good thing. None of us would have thought to do it.
I yank the curtain closed behind us, carrying Charlotte to the larger-than-king-size mattress. There’s not much room on either side of the bed, and I end up stubbing my toe as I skirt around the edge. The head of the bed has cabinets on either side, along with nightstands to hold supplies. I want to be able to lie Charlotte down with her head on the pillows, but I lean over the mattress, placing her closer to the middle so there will be room for my big ass on the edge.
She rolls away from me, pulling her knees to her chest, and I swear my heart physically aches. Grabbing the remote off the nightstand, I adjust the lighting.
There are a bunch of different ambient noise settings that are supposed to soothe omegas, and I settle for the first one that sounds like wind and rain. Dropping the remote, I climb onto the mattress behind her, wrapping my arm around her middle.
“Wanna talk about it, or should I shut up and hold you?” I ask, nuzzling my cheek to hers from behind. She’s quiet for a while, and I slide my hand under her shirt, caressing her stomach. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what you need.”
“I believe you.” Her head bobs up and down. “And I appreciate it.” She’s either numb or she’s blocking her emotions in the bond.
I don’t like the thought of either, but there are some things you have to fight through on your own before you’re ready to talk about them. If you’re me, you never bring them up again, but Charlotte is much softer than I am. She also wasn’t raised with three fathers who saw emotional vulnerability as weakness.
“He was supposed to be dead,” she whispers. “Iwantedhim to be dead. I think I should be relieved that he’s alive becausethat means I don’t have killing someone on my conscience, but I just don’t feel that way.”
“You’re allowed to feel however you feel,” I assure her. “I’m not going to judge you. You could give me a list of names of people you want dead because they looked at you wrong, and I’d kill them without question. Just know, he won’t make it out of the meeting tomorrow night.”
Charlotte sighs, and I pull the hair back from her face, brushing my lips over her cheek. The bond is a mess, but I focus on sending steady comfort and reassurance through the connection.
“He’s going to say things about me. Most of them are probably true, and I hate that. He won’t even have to lie to completely change how the three of you see me.”
“Never, little one,” I say, praying she can feel the truth in my words. “We all have a past. Not one of us would judge you for doing what you had to do to survive.”
“Yeah,” she says softly. “I think I just hate remembering who I was when I was with him. All the things I let myself be put through…”
“You survived it,” I murmur, holding her even tighter. “It might have been ugly, and you might not like what you had to do, but that got you to who you are today. Don’t let anyone make you feel an ounce of shame about keeping yourself alive. You never apologize toanyonefor being a survivor.”
She rolls over in my hold, and I pull my hand from under her shirt to make it easier. Once again, she pulls her knees up, putting her in the fetal position.
I hate that she seems to be trying to make herself smaller. Or maybe she’s subconsciously put a barrier between herself and anything that could hurt her.
She looks up at me from under her lashes and says, “I wish I could see myself the way you do.”
“You will one day.” I bring my hand to cradle her cheek. “You kept yourself and Lucky safe, and you did a damn good job. You were so brave, but you’ve got us now.”
Her eyes shut, and she lets out a shaky breath. “You mean so much to me, Mal. I need you to know that.”
“I do.” I run my thumb over her jaw and nod. “You mean the world to me too, little one.”
