"Nesting happens when a woman has taste and access to cashmere and fancy material."
Gregor looked at me over her head. I looked at Artem. None of us corrected her. We were brave men, not stupid ones. The last time she was in heat she had a knife in her hand.
Now, on the second day, the denial had burned off completely. Maeve was on her hands and knees in the center of the nest, skin flushed and covered in our marks, hips rocking back against Artem as he drove into her.
"Please," she whimpered. Her voice was hoarse. "Ivan, please."
I was at the edge of the bed, trying to remember how breathing worked. "I need five minutes. You're going to kill me."
"Give me a baby." She looked over her shoulder, eyes fever-bright. "Give me another baby. Please, Alpha."
The words hit me straight in the heart. Gregor, who was lying beside her, made a deep rumbling sound and tangled his fingers in her hair, kissing the side of her neck where his claim mark sat silver and permanent.
"My turn," Gregor said. His patience had limits and we'd just found them. I knew that because every time he had sex with her over the last months, he talked dirty about filling her with his baby.
And now she was ready.
Artem pulled out with a groan and collapsed onto the pillow. Gregor didn't waste the transition. He pulled Maeve onto his lap, positioned her straddling his thighs, and sank her down onto his cock in one motion. She cried out in a beautiful broken sound as her body clamped around him.
As I watched her ride him, his hands gripped her hips, my chest went tight with a terrifying amount of love.
I grabbed a fresh water bottle from the nightstand, unscrewed it, and pressed it to her lips. She drank between moans, eyes fluttering.
When she finished, I wiped sweat from her cheek with my thumb, tracing the claim mark I'd left on her neck.
"I'm going to knot you, little bird," I told her. "As soon as he's done. And we're going to give you exactly what you want."
“Please,” she whined.
She was completely lost in the heat, but safe in her nest, and she was ours.
Another day passed before the fever broke.
We carried her into the bathroom and filled the marble tub with water hot enough to steam and lavender oil that Artem had been stockpiling for exactly this event.
The tub was massive but four people was still four people, and we ended up in a configuration that would have looked absurd to anyone who wasn't us.
Artem sat behind her, her back against his chest. Gregor and I flanked her sides. The water turned milky with the oil and the bruises on her skin stood out in vivid, possessive colors.
Gregor took a sponge and ran it over her shoulders and down her arms with the same methodical gentleness he applied to everything. I pressed a kiss to the claim mark on her neck.
"You were perfect," I said. "So perfect."
Maeve leaned her head back against Artem's shoulder. The sigh she let out was so content it made my chest ache.
"I can't believe this is my life." Her eyes opened, green and clear now that the heat had passed.
“Always believe it.” Artem's arms tightened around her waist, his chin resting on top of her head.
"I do now," she said, "and I'm so incredibly glad I stole that credit card from you in Prague."
Artem's chest vibrated with a low chuckle. The water rippled around us.
"You never stole it."
Maeve blinked and lifted her head. "What?"
"We slipped it into your pocket. In case you ran while we attended to business. The card had a micro-tracker embedded in the chip. It was supposed to lead us to you." Artem said. "The tracker never worked."
