Page 54 of Knot The Nanny We Planned

The bedroom is bathed in early morning light, soft, golden, filtering through the curtains in hazy stripes. The nest surrounds me, a cocoon of fabric and scent, and I'm lying in its center like the heart of something living and breathing and real.

JD is behind me. His massive frame curves around my body, his chest pressed to my spine, his arm draped over my waist with a heaviness that speaks of unconscious possession. Even in sleep, he holds me like he's afraid I'll disappear. His breath is warm against the back of my neck, slow and steady, and every exhale carries the scent of pine.

Knox is in front of me. He's on his side, facing me, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other stretched across the nest so his hand rests on JD's hip. His golden hair is a mess, tufts sticking up in every direction, and his face, slack with sleep, looks younger. Softer. The wicked grin and the dirty mouth are dormant, and what's left is the boy from South Boston who grew up with nothing and somehow learned to love anyway.

And Deklan…

Deklan is at the foot of the nest. He's sitting up, his back against the headboard, his laptop balanced on his knees. He's wearing his glasses - when did he put those on? - and he's typing softly, the sound barely audible. But his free hand rests on my ankle. His fingers are curled around the bone, holding me loosely, an anchor I didn't know I needed.

He's awake. Watching over us.

I lift my head and meet his eyes. He glances down at me, and something softens in his expression, just a fraction, just enough.

"Morning," he murmurs. His voice is barely above a whisper, careful not to wake the others.

"Morning." I stretch, and the movement presses me back against JD and forward against Knox simultaneously. Both men shift in their sleep, JD's arm tightening, Knox's hand sliding from JD's hip to mine.

My body aches. Not badly, not the kind of pain that signals damage. The kind of ache that comes from being thoroughly, completely, impossibly well-used. My thighs are sore. My hips are sore. Between my legs, I'm tender and swollen, and when I shift, I feel the evidence of last night, slick and cum, mine and theirs, cooling on my skin.

I should feel embarrassed. Should feel exposed. Should feel the creeping shame that usually follows intimacy, the quiet voice that says you gave too much, too fast, too soon.

But I don't. For the first time in my life, I feel none of those things.

What I do feel is safe.

"How long did I sleep?" I ask Deklan.

"Four hours." His thumb traces a circle on my ankle bone. "You needed it."

"Did you sleep at all?"

A pause, the briefest hesitation. "No."

"Deklan…"

"I wasn't going to sleep through our first night together." He says it matter-of-factly, like staying awake all night to watch over three sleeping people is a perfectly reasonable choice. "Someone had to keep watch."

"Keep watch," I repeat. "Against what?"

"Anything." His eyes flick to the window, then back to me. "Everything. The world is full of things that take what matters while you're not paying attention."

The words carry the weight of experience. Of foster homes and group homes and a lifetime of learning that good things get taken away if you don't guard them with everything you have.

I sit up, careful not to disturb JD or Knox, and crawl to the foot of the nest. Deklan watches me approach with an expression that's half wariness, half hunger, like he's not sure whether he wants to retreat or pull me into his lap.

I make the choice for him.

I settle beside him, my shoulder pressed to his, my head resting against his arm. He's warm, always warm, despite the Beta tendency to run cooler than Alphas, and his cedar scent wraps around me like a blanket.

"Sleep," I say. "I'll keep watch."

"You can't keep watch. You're exhausted."

"Then we'll both be exhausted." I look up at him. "Together."

Something cracks in his expression. That hairline fracture that I've learned to recognize, the place where Deklan's controlled exterior gives way to the man underneath. He closes the laptop, sets it aside, removes his glasses and places them on the nightstand with the same careful precision he brings to everything.

Then he wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his chest.