“I need them,” I say, a whine seeping into my voice as I reach out for her clothing again.
“Okay, Sweetling. Okay.”
She undresses, passing the entire colorful bundle to me and leaving herself in a mesh bra and underwear.
I start to turn back to my nest, then freeze, looking back at her. My eyes drink her in, from toes to afro and back down again. Long legs and arms, sculpted muscles from working on the farm. The most beautiful rich brown skin and toned abs. A neatly trimmed bush at the apex of her thighs and full, round breasts with dark nipples that are hardening under my gaze. Defined collarbones and a slender neck.
Slick pools between my thighs and I’d be dripping if I wasn’t wearing underwear.
“Like what you see, pretty omega?” Vee asks, her voice husky.
My mouth is dry as sand and I gulp, then spin around and flee back into my nest with my prizes. I cannot handle how hot she is right now, not when my omega brain is already fried from nesting all day.
A few minutes later, a knock sounds on the door.
“Petal, we brought more clothes for you if you want them. You can also pass out some of the blankets or pillows if you want us to scent mark them.”
Genius. My alpha is a thoughtful, kind, super smart genius.
I jerk upright and sort through the pillows, picking the perfect items for each person. Then I crack the door and shove them out one at a time.
“Brooks.” I pass him two pillows and a blanket.
“Riley.” Two blankets.
“Alpha.” Four pillows.
They hand each item back one by one, and they’re all perfect. I tuck them back into their spots, take the clothing I want from Brooks’ offerings, and then finally collapse onto my back.
It’s done.
My nest is done.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Neveah
We’ve all been on edge, impatiently waiting for Sage to either finish her nest or collapse from exhaustion. It’s nearly eight at night, which means she’s been at it for over twelve hours.
Riley is sitting at the kitchen table, both of his knees bouncing as he scrolls on his phone. Brooks has been in the kitchen cooking up enough food to feed an army.
And I keep pacing up and down the stairs, shoving my hands in and out of my pockets. Why don’t I know what to do with my hands? What do I normally do with my hands?
The door at the end of the hallway opens and I leap up the last two steps to see Sage looking like she’s ready to drop. I stride over and scoop her into my arms.
“How are you feeling?”
“It’s done,” she says, a content smile on her face.
“I’m so happy to hear that, Sweetling. I’m sure it’s perfect, but I asked about you, not your nest.”
“Oh,” she says, scrunching her eyebrows as I stalk down the stairs with her cradled against me. “I’m good. Yeah.”
“Very convincing,” I murmur, then I set her on a stool at the kitchen counter.
Brooks immediately starts shoving food in front of her, and to everyone’s relief, she practically inhales it. We all watch her, having snacked here and there ourselves over the last two hours, but she freezes when she realizes we aren’t eating with her.
Her eyes dart to each of us while her cheeks are puffed out like a cute little chipmunk. She chews rapidly, then swallows with a gulp.
