She said she felt safe.
Maya Collins, who spent the first week after her presentation fighting every instinct she had and bracing through every moment of warmth like it was something she'd have to account for later, said she feels safe here.
I lie in the dark and listen to her breathe. There's no version of the next two days that isn't going to be hard. The heat is coming, and it's going to be intense. She's going to have moments when she loses the thread entirely, and I'm going to want to fix things that can't be fixed. It's going to require more from all of us than preparation alone.
But none of us are alone anymore.
Somewhere along the way, we'd stopped taking turns looking after her. We'd started looking after each other too.
Her breathing deepens.
Her hand goes slack against my chest.
I close my eyes and let sleep take me.
Chapter 34
Maya
I wake to the scent of bergamot surrounding me.
Behind me, Bash's arm is still loosely draped around my waist from last night, his warmth a solid line along my back. On my other side, I can feel the familiar weight of Elias. I know it's him before I open my eyes because of the cool mineral scent that always clings to him. Cedar and amber linger nearby as well.
I'm in my nest, surrounded by alphas.
All three of their breathing patterns are slow and even.
I don't move. I just lie there and soak in the moment. Through the haze of sleep, I'm aware that my body feels completely relaxed, and I feel content in a way I don't think I've ever experienced before.
It feels good.
I can't help wondering what it would be like to wake up like this every morning.
As I lie there, Elias shifts slightly and adjusts his arm, causing the blanket to rustle. Adrian moves next from the foot of the nest, and I feel his hand brush briefly against my ankle, as though he's checking to make sure I'm still there. Bash shifts last. His arm tightens around my waist for a moment beforerelaxing again, and then I hear him exhale deeply into his pillow and go still.
“Morning,” Adrian says to no one in particular.
“Not yet,” Bash replies into his pillow.
Adrian is silent for a second.
Then, in a dry tone, he says, “The call sheet says otherwise.”
Neither of them moves.
I open my eyes and find Elias staring at the ceiling beside me.
I push myself up onto one elbow and look around the room. The nest has changed since I first found myself building it. It's fuller now, more layered, and the arrangement feels less accidental. The blankets are organized by weight. The lamp sits where I moved it because the light is better there. The chair has both a cardigan and Adrian's hoodie draped over the back side by side because at some point that's where they ended up, and eventually it stopped looking strange.
The space carries all four of us now. Our scents have mixed into the fabric until I can't cleanly separate them anymore.
Bash opens one eye and looks at me. His hair is a disaster. “How do you feel?” he asks.
“Warm.”
He opens his other eye. “Warm like comfortable, or warm like—”
“Comfortable,” I say. “I'm okay.”
