My heart stumbles. Her icy fingers send a chill up my arm, but the contact sends warmth through my chest. I look down at her grip, then to her face. She doesn’t say anything, just looks at me like I’m the only thing keeping her from floating away. “Oli, please stay.”
I nod and squeeze her hand. “Of course.” I look toward the guys, silently telling them to go.
Jethro meets my gaze with a small nod. Ross studies us, curious but quiet. Caleb’s face is unreadable, but something in his eyes has softened.
Jethro speaks from the doorway. “We’ll be downstairs. Just call if you need us.”
He walks out, Caleb and Ross behind him, and the door shuts gently. It’s just me and Sandra now. Alone in the nest. I turn back to her, still holding her hand. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”
Her grip tightens. “No. Please. I just don’t want to be alone. Not yet.”
She doesn’t let go until we’re in the center of the large nest. My scent fills the space: sage, honeysuckle, and a touch of marshmallow. It’s always been where I come to breathe. Now I’m sharing it.
She steps forward, eyes on the nest. Her fingers drift across the layered blankets, tracing the edge of a pillow. “It’s beautiful.”
I spot the dirt on her legs, the blood drying at her temple, and the grime tangled in her hair. She’s filthy, exhausted, barely holding it together.
“Hey.” I motion toward the corner. “There’s a bathroom through here. I’m sure you would like to get clean after all you’ve been through today... this month. Let me get you a towel.”
She follows me to the on-suite. I grab a clean towel from the cabinet and hand it to her.
Holding it tight, she lowers her gaze. “I want to get clean, but I don’t know if I have the strength to stand long enough to wash my hair.”
“There’s a bench in the shower.” I leave out why it’s there. “You can sit. Take your time.”
Her shoulders drop with relief, but hesitation creeps in again.
“Do you want help?” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. I clear my throat. “Only if you’re okay with that. I can stay, or I can go. Whatever you need.”
She watches me for a beat. Then nods. “I trust you. I don’t know if it’s because we smell kind of similar or because you’re an Omega, but I feel safe with you.”
She peels off Caleb’s hoodie, standing before me naked, bruises litter her pale skin. Despite how battered she looks, she keeps her head held high and her arms at her sides.
I turn on the shower and strip off my shirt and jeans, keeping my underwear on. She steps in, and I follow, grabbing the handheld showerhead.
Steam fills the room. Warm water runs down her back, catching trails of grime and blood and sending them swirling toward the drain. I keep the stream slow and careful as I guide it across her skin. My other hand hovers just above her, not quite touching unless she leans in. When she does, I steady her.
The air thickens between us. Her bare skin gleams under the spray, the bruises casting faint shadows. I reach for the shampoo and step closer, fingers slipping through her tangled hair, gently working in the lather. Her eyes close. She exhales, and a soft sound leaves her mouth that makes my pulse stutter.
Neither of us speaks.
Soap glides across her shoulders, arms, down her spine. My fingertips learn the shape of her. I navigate around the bruises, brushing the sides of her ribs, the slope of her hip. Each pass of the cloth feels electric.
The silence deepens, charged and heavy. She leans into me, and I anchor her there with one hand against her back, the other tracing a path down her arm. Every breath feels louder. Her scent begins to change. Still delicate, still jasmine, but something in it unfurls, like warmth blooming in the cold. I rinse her off, water cascading over skin that no longer shakes under my hands. My pulse pounds, but I keep steady. There’s a charge between us.
Once we finish, she wraps the towel around herself just long enough to dry off, then slips the hoodie back on. Her scent mingles with Caleb’s and it feels right. I dress quickly. Back in the nest, she pauses before sitting. I stand nearby, watching asher fingers tighten around the edge of a blanket. Her eyes find mine. “Why are you being so kind to me? You don’t even know me.”
A shrug rises before I stop it. The question lands deep. “You needed help. You’re scent-matched to our pack. That means something.”
But it’s more than that. She draws something out of me I haven’t felt in years. Not for another Omega.
Her gaze drops. A tear slides down her cheek.
I take a step, but stop short of reaching out.
“Hey. You’re safe here. I promise.”
She twists her hands in her lap. “Will you lie down with me? Just until I fall asleep?”
