I smile smugly, reaching around to pull out my braid—
I didn’t braid my hair. Sure, I was out of it, in a haze of omega need, but I was always present, and I would definitely remember doing this braid...
The door softly opens, and in the reflection, I see Sylvan searching the bathroom, his auburn hair sticking up in random places, eyes half open. When they land on me in the mirror, he slips behind, arms wrapping around my waist as he kisses my throat.
“I want you back in the nest,” he murmurs, then inhales. His body tenses, eyes reaching mine in the mirror. “It’s... over?”
His voice, the soft ache, the way his eyes seem to shimmer like he’s—
I turn in his hold. “Oh, Sylvan, no. Baby, it’s okay.” I’m kissing his cheeks, his nose, brushing his mouth with mine in slow, tentative brushes. “I know, I know it’s a shock. It’s been... an intense few days.”
“I don’t want it to be over,” he says, voice soft, forehead to forehead. “Can’t we just... keep going?”
I chuckle lightly, but Sylvan doesn’t look amused.
I slowly shake my head, and his lips pull into a sad frown.
“Did you braid my hair for me?” I whisper, running my fingers along the pattern.
He nods. “I didn’t have my notes, but I tried my best—”
I cut off his words with a hard kiss, teeth knocking as I jump onto him. He has no choice but to hold my thighs to keep me up.
When I pull back, he looks dazed.
“Thank you, Sylvan.” I brush our noses. “Thank you for researching and preparing. You put so much effort into every little thing, and I just need you to know I really appreciate it. I really appreciate you.”
I kiss him again, lingering against his lips, pouring my affection into that one brief touch. He tries to continue when I pull away, only stopping when I laugh at his eagerness.
“I hope we did enough to prove ourselves to you,” he whispers over my lips. “I’ve already made notes on how to improve for your next heat.” He slowly puts me down. “I can get my phone and show you—”
I grip his hand before he leaves, laughing softly. “Not now, Sylvan.” I slowly pull him to me, standing on my tiptoes to whisper, “Right now, I’d really like to shower.”
His brows furrow. “Okay, but I can read them out to you while you’re—”
“Together, Sylvan.”
His eyes darken, then we’re in the shower, hot water spraying down as my back’s pressed to cold marble.
Valentin
When she steps out of the bathroom with Sylvan, the sight of her knocks the breath out of me. We told Sylvan to keep her distracted so we could clean the nest, and an hour later, he emerges with that glazed look in his eyes we’d all fight him for.
And Revea’s hair is down in soft, natural waves, freshly dried, wearing nothing but someone’s t-shirt. I don’t even care whose. She looks perfect.
She looks like ours.
She smiles at us as she surveys the nest.
“You cleaned?” Her smile gets wider when she looks behind and sees the giant projector that curves across the far wall. “There’s one in here too?!”
“Come, sit, cariño,” Luc says, patting a spot in the middle of the nest. “It’s starting.”
She does so without hesitation.
The opening scene of a film I haven’t watched in years flickers to life. Luciano leans in close to Revea, whispering the lines before they’re spoken. She laughs softly, nudging him when he gets ahead of himself, but she doesn’t pull away.
She never pulls away.
