There’s a low growl from the living room area where Grieves is busy spreading pillows and blankets around, making the couch as cozy as he can. “Forsythe should have let us feed you earlier.” He pauses to consider. “I should have just stopped. I’m sorry, bubbles.”
I wave a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
His scowl deepens. “Don’t do that, Ren. Your needs are important. The most important thing, in fact. We, as youralphas, should have fed you the moment you said you were hungry.”
The corner of my mouth tips into a smile. Small but there, and Grieves stares at it for the longest moment, his cheeks going slightly flushed, like the sight of it is… arousing maybe? I don’t know. Whatever it is there’s an answering flush in my body.
The alpha’s nostrils flare, and I know he’s picking up on the absolutely wild response from my exhausted body. Piers moves into my side, his hand pressing into my lower back, not to get me to move, but in support.
For just a moment, I let myself be weak, leaning into him, letting him take some of my weight. He accepts it, supporting me in that unfailing way he has.
“Go sit down,” Piers murmurs against my temple. “I’ll get the food served up. We’ll put on something mindless that you won’t mind falling asleep during, and you can just relax, yeah?”
This is exactly what I want, what I need. This is what I was thinking of to help ease me into the new reality that is my life.
Grieves gives me a look that’s almost shy as I move toward him before he looks back at the exorbitant amount of blankets and pillows he’s strewn around the living room. “I did what I could, brought out every soft thing I could find, but if there's something missing, let me know, yeah?”
I take in what he’s done already, the sweet nest he’s made for me on the couch, pillows creating a border, blankets plumped up in the middle, and articles of clothing tucked here and there. It's not perfect, my omega is telling me, but it’s pretty damn close, because he made it for me, tried to give me a space that would feel safe and comfortable for my omega, for me.
And doesn’t that just make me melt a little?
“It’s perfect, bruiser,” I say even as I reach out and twitch a pillow a little to the left, before climbing into the mound ofblankets and pillows and clothes that smell like my pack and burrowing under, until only my head peeks out.
Grieves settles outside the ring of pillows and I just barely manage to swallow a whine.He made it big enough for the three of us, why doesn’t he want to join me?My omega wails. Even as I force myself to be logical about it.
He’s trying to give us time to adjust. He doesn’t want to push for more than I’m willing to give, and he thinks that means I need physical space.
I do need physical space. If I don’t maintain that, then I’ll fold like a wet blanket, and later my heart will absolutely shatter. But at the same time, I’m a damn omega, and I’m in a new place—a new freaking country—and my fated mates are right here, and Ineedthem.
He doesn’t want to be in your nest, Ren, get over it.
But it’s impossible.
I glare at the TV as he turns it on. Continue to glare at it when he asks me what I want to watch. Glare when Piers approaches me with a plate piled with food. Glare as I stab at the perfectly browned cheese on top of the lasagna. Glare as I chew angrily.
Piers and Grieves exchange a look that I catch with my glaring eyes and then Grieves carefully sets his plate down on the coffee table and turns the full weight of his gray eyes on me. “Omega.” The word rumbles out of him. “Is there something you need?”
“No.” I snap out defensive because I can’t just admit that I want him—them—in this nest with me. That I almost need it. And that the fact that he’s not already here has wounded my omega something fierce.
“Little bird,” Piers coos, leaning closer to me. “If you need something just say it, and we’ll move heaven and earth to get it for you.”
I shake my head and stuff another bite of lasagna into my mouth, while they exchange that same look again.
I’m being ridiculous. I recognize that on some level. But I’m also… so overwrought. I probably shouldn’t have agreed to come here. It’s going to be so damn hard on me, on my omega, and my body when I have to leave without my mates.
And the way that Forsythe couldn’t wait to get away from me earlier was foreshadowing if ever I saw it.
Is that how he’s going to be the entire time I’m here? Distant, absent, ensuring I have everything I need—well, everything I need but him?
Is he with Isadora right now, reassuring her with his words and his body that he might have left to see me, because of optics, because the world knows we’re scent matches, but that he’s still going to bond her? Are Court and Thayer doing the same?
The lasagna I’ve eaten turns to a globby stone in my stomach and I drop the fork, staring at the television where Grieves has put onCluelesswith tear filled eyes.
Fuck.
This really does not bode well for the state of my heart after all is said and done.
“Bubbles, love, look at me.” There's no bark in the command, but I follow it all the same, turning toward him, letting him see my hurt. “What do you need? Tell me so I can fix it.”
