“Shotgun sleeping next to you!” He leaps onto the bed.
“I probably need something else to sleep in…” This robe is definitely not cut out for snoozing between sizzling-hot men.
“Pajamas!” Jagger hits his forehead as he rejoins us, steam clouding behind him. “I knew there was something we forgot.”
“Don’t worry.” Tae quickly scoops his tee from the floor. “You can sleep in this, cookie.”
I bring it up to my face and breathe him in. “I don’t think I’ll ever need pajamas again.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Delilah
I wake up abruptly, the sun dancing over my cheeks as the skylight above douses us in a warm glow. I’m sandwiched between Nash and Tae, who are sleeping soundly. A small smile tugs at my lips as last night’s memories come flooding back—the laughter of my friends, our games, and the dull, satisfied ache between my legs that serves as a delicious reminder of how I spent my first night in the nest.
Last night was perfect. Life with a pack is everything I ever wanted, everything I imagined finding my scent matches would entail. If every night to come is even half as good as last night, I’ll be a very happy woman.
I sit up and scan the room, expecting to see Jagger at the base of the bed where I last saw him, but the space is empty. I frown, sliding off the bed as quietly as possible.
I pad over to the bathroom, my pulse jumping as I poke my head around the door. Empty. A familiar, creeping panic begins to rise in my chest. I grab my cell phone from the dresser then step out of the nest, leaving the safety of that room behind.
I scan my texts, the wooden floorboards freezing under my bare soles. Only messages from the Stellas.
“Jagger?” I call out into the dim hallway.
When my own voice echoes back to me, dread forms a vice around my lungs as a familiar feeling of déjà vu creeps in. I move frantically, driven only by instinct and not caring about privacy as I throw open every door on the floor. Still, I find nothing. Where is he?
“Jagger!” I shout as I thud down the stairs.
I hurtle through the ground floor, moving from room to room as the walls feel like they’re closing in. I can’t smell him. It’s as if a black hole has opened up and sucked his presence away with it. There’s no note, nothing but cold ash sitting in the fireplace from the night before.
Where is he?
Why isn’t he here?
Flashbacks rattle through me, hitting me like physical blows. All of the pain I experienced a year ago returns, a palpable, visceral reminder of how horrific it felt when I realized that he had truly left. The utter devastation I suffered after giving myself to someone completely, only to have him vanish.
He promised he’d never leave again. My pulse thrashes in my ears as my mind fights to find a rational explanation, trying to ignore the nagging inner voice—the insecure one that I thought I’d started to shake—that whispers, “What if he’s gone for good this time?”
I grip the sofa arm, my knees trembling. I can’t do this again. I squeeze my eyes shut, struggling to gulp in oxygen, but it feels like my throat has closed. Stars dance across my vision, and a clammy sweat coats my skin as I fight to remain upright.
“Delilah.” I gasp at Nash’s firm grip on my shoulders. He’s only wearing sweatpants, his forehead crinkled in concern as he stoops to look into my eyes. “I need you to focus on me.”
Strangled bursts of air escape my lips as uncontrollable tears stream down my cheeks.
“Sit down.” Nash steers me onto the sofa then drops to his knees in front of me. He puts his steadying hands on my shoulders again. “You’re going to copy me. Breathe as I do.”
But I can’t… It’s too hard.
That crushing feeling is taking over, bile rising in my throat, when suddenly, Nash unleashes a deep rumbling noise from the back of his throat. I’ve never heard anything like it; the only thing I can compare it to is the sound of rolling thunder. Whatever it is, the sound seems to seep into my bones, yanking me out of my mental spiral long enough to focus on him.
“Delilah.” Nash’s voice is firmer now. “Listen to my voice, not your thoughts. Just me.”
My blurry vision zeroes in on his face, taking in all the details—his stubbled jaw, the kindness in his blue eyes, the heat radiating from his palms.
“Better.” He nods slowly. “Now in… and out.”
I copy him, pulling air into my lungs.
