I felt his presence at my back, the heat of him close but not quite touching. The knife was still in his hand, I realized—he hadn't had time to replace it in his rush for safety.
"It's okay," I murmured, not turning around for fear of startling him further. "No one enters without permission. You're safe here."
Another knock, followed by Bug's unmistakable voice. "Mr. Rooster? We bring presents! For kitten!"
I glanced over my shoulder at Liam, whose expression had shifted from fear to wary confusion. "It's Bug," I explained. "And it sounds like he's brought some friends. They want to welcome you."
Liam's golden eyes met mine, searching for reassurance. After a moment's hesitation, he carefully handed me the Damascus knife, his fingers brushing against mine in the process.
The brief contact sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with my bear's desires and everything to do with the trust implicit in the gesture.
I returned the knife to its place on the rack, then moved toward the door, acutely aware of Liam hovering just behind my right shoulder.
"Ready?" I asked softly.
He drew in a deep breath, then gave a single, decisive nod.
I opened the door to find Bug practically vibrating with excitement, a brightly wrapped package clutched in his thin hands. Behind him stood Treat, Butch's omega mate, holding what looked like folded fabric, and slightly further back was Percy, Gearhead's shy fox shifter.
Each of them carried something—gifts, I realized with a start. They'd brought gifts for Liam. Something warm unfurled in my chest at the gesture. The omegas had taken it upon themselves to welcome my mate, even though he was practically a stranger to them.
"We come in?" Bug asked, bouncing on his toes. "Bear say only few minutes. Not bother. We bring welcome things!"
I glanced back at Liam, who had pressed himself against the wall beside my dresser, his golden eyes wide as he assessed the newcomers. After a moment's hesitation, he gave me a small nod.
"Sure," I said, stepping aside to let them enter. "But maybe one at a time? Might be less overwhelming."
Bug didn't need to be told twice. He darted into the room with that strange, fluid grace he possessed, stopping a respectful distance from Liam. The others followed more cautiously, Treat with his calm, measured steps and Percy with his characteristic hunched posture, eyes downcast.
"For you!" Bug declared, thrusting his package toward Liam. "From Bug and Bear. Well…” He giggled. “Bug pick. Bear pay."
Liam stared at the offered gift like it might explode, making no move to take it.
"It's okay," I said softly. "They just want to welcome you to the club."
With painfully slow movements, Liam reached for the package, his fingers trembling slightly as they closed around the bright paper. He handled it with such reverence that my chest ached watching him. Had no one ever given him a gift before?
Bug bounced impatiently. "Open! Open!"
Liam carefully unwrapped the package, taking care not to tear the paper. Inside was a stuffed lynx toy, amber-colored with tufted ears and a red ribbon around its neck. It was a good likeness of his shifter form, I realized with surprise.
"Is you!" Bug exclaimed proudly. "Soft friend for when scared. Mine help me." He patted his pocket where I knew he kept a small stuffed bear that Bear had given him early in their relationship.
Liam's fingers stroked the plush fur, his expression a mixture of confusion and wonder. He looked up at Bug, then at me, as if seeking explanation for this unexpected kindness.
Before I could say anything, Treat stepped forward with his offering. "I made this," he said, his voice gentle as he held out what I now recognized as a quilt. "Everyone needs something warm that belongs just to them."
As Liam accepted the quilt, it unfurled partially to reveal intricate patchwork in earthy tones—browns, greens, and amber that matched his lynx coloring. The craftsmanship was evident even to my untrained eye.
"Treat's been working on that for days," I explained to Liam. "Ever since I mentioned you might be staying."
Liam ran his fingers over the soft fabric, tracing the stitching with a look of absolute wonder. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and I worried for a moment that he might be overwhelmed. But he managed a small nod of thanks to Treat, who smiled in return.
Percy was last, hanging back until Treat nudged him forward. "I—I thought you might need these," he said so quietly I almost missed it, offering a leather-bound journal and a set of drawing pencils. "For when words are... difficult."
Liam froze, his eyes locking with Percy's in a moment of silent understanding. They were alike in many ways—both skittish, both traumatized, both struggling to communicate in a world that demanded words. But where Liam remained silent by choice or circumstance, Percy had found his voice.
The journal was beautiful—simple but elegant, with a sturdy cover and thick pages that would stand up to heavy use. The pencils were artist-grade, far better than the stub Liam had been using for his drawings.
