Epilogue
Willow
Two months later
I can’t sit still.
There’s a hum under my skin, a restless energy that makes me flit from my nest to the living room and back again, arms full of blankets, spare pillows, and anything that smells of me—or them. My body is moving before I can even think, making the space right, softer, warmer, safer.
“Peaches…?” Carson leans against the doorway, one brow arched as he watches me strip the guest-room bed for another comforter. “You’ve been a whirlwind for like…forty minutes. You okay?”
“Fine,” I chirp, tossing the comforter over my shoulder and hurrying past him. “Just—this one’s softer. It needs to be in there.”
“In where?” he calls after me.
I ignore him, heading straight to my room.
The nest is starting to take shape: a fortress of comfort, layers of our life woven together.
One of Carson’s hoodies. Graham’s soft thermal shirt.
Hunter’s blanket that still smells like his musk.
A pillow Finn stole from the couch because he said it was “well-seasoned with cuddles.”
And right in the center, I tuck Landon’s Nationals jacket—the white one with our team logo and his name across the back. It still smells faintly like clean linen and victory, like the kiss he gave me after we won. I smooth my hand over the embroidery, feeling warm all over.
When I drop the new comforter in place, a little sigh escapes me.
Better. Not perfect. But closer. Graham did a great job building me the nest, and now I am making it fully mine.
Sure, I’ve stolen items of clothing over the last couple of months, but something is driving me to add more.
I need all of them, and it thrums inside of me like a second heartbeat.
Finn appears next, camera hanging around his neck, head tilted as he studies the room. “You’re nesting,” he says with a knowing smile.
“I am not nesting,” I protest automatically, fluffing a pillow and tucking it under another blanket.
Finn hums like he doesn’t believe me, leaning in the doorway and letting his eyes travel over the new pile of blankets, hoodies, and pillows. “Uh-huh. And I’m not about to take three hundred photos of you the second your heat hits.”
Behind him, Hunter appears, carrying a laundry basket. He blinks at the room, then at me. “Oh. Oh.”
Carson snorts. “Oh?”
Hunter jerks his head toward the nest, his expression softening. “She’s getting ready.”
Carson’s teasing fades into something warmer, a grin spreading across his face. “Well, hell. That means it’s time, doesn’t it?”
Graham’s heavy footsteps approach, and he pauses at the doorway, taking in the scene with that assessing, pack-leader gaze. His mouth curves slowly as he takes a step inside. “Instinct kicked in, huh?”
I finally pause, hands on my hips, realizing they’re all looking at me. Heat crawls up my neck, but there's pride there too. “Maybe.”
The second I admit it—just that little “maybe”—it’s like lighting a fuse.
Carson spins on his heel and claps his hands together. “Alright, operation Spoil the Omega is a go. Snacks! We need snacks.” He’s already halfway down the hall before I can tell him we have a pantry.
Hunter sets the laundry basket down and heads for the kitchen. “She’s gonna need fluids—water, juice, electrolyte drinks. I’m on it.”
Graham steps farther into the room, his warm, grounding presence filling the space.
Without a word, he reaches back and grabs the hem of his T-shirt, tugging it off in one smooth motion.
The sight makes my mouth go a little dry—broad chest, muscles shifting under his skin—but then he just folds it and sets it in the nest as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “This should help,” he says simply.
My cheeks warm as I smooth the shirt into place. “It does,” I admit softly.
Landon leans in the doorway, arms crossed, watching all of us with a soft, almost disbelieving smile.
But then he pushes off the frame and strides toward the kitchen.
“I’ll get the protein and fruit ready,” he says.
“We’ll want her fed before…” he trails off, the tips of his ears pink, and I bite back a grin.
Finn hasn’t moved except to lift his camera, the faint click of the shutter catching the moment Graham’s shirt lands in the nest. “Stay right there,” he murmurs. “I want to remember this. The night our pack became official.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, but I don’t tell him to stop.
Because I do want to remember this. The flurry of movement, the laughter from the kitchen as Carson and Hunter start arguing about which snacks are “essential,” Graham shaking his head but tucking another blanket around the edge of my nest anyway, Landon humming under his breath as he slices strawberries.
Finn catches it all—me in the middle of my little fortress, surrounded by pieces of them, my heart so full it aches.
It feels like home. It feels like love. It feels like the beginning of forever.
By the time the pack regroups, my nest is a palace.
Carson drops a bag of snacks with a flourish. Hunter brings me a glass with a straw, and I sip greedily, heart pounding. Landon kneels on my right, Finn on my left, and Graham crouches in front of me, his hand cupping my cheek.
“You ready, little omega?” he rumbles.
I nod, voice soft but certain. “Yes, let’s make it official.”
The air shifts.
Landon leans in first, lips brushing my ear. “Forever this time,” he murmurs. “I’m yours.”
I kiss him, slow and claiming, letting my pheromones pour into the room. My perfume swells, peach-sweet and decadent, wrapping around all five of them. They groan almost in unison, and heat flashes through me.
If my last heat was torture, this one is already going to be on the opposite end of the spectrum, and the slick already coating my thighs says I’m ready for every second.
Carson growls low in his chest, the sound vibrating through me as his hand glides up my thigh. “God, she smells perfect,” he mutters.
Hunter moves in behind me, his chest pressed to my back, breath hot against my ear. “Ours,” he rumbles, and the word sends a shiver straight to my core.
Finn’s hand is steadier than the rest, his thumb brushing my cheekbone as he leans in to kiss the corner of my mouth, soft and lingering. “Breathe, little fire,” he whispers, and it grounds me for a fleeting moment before Landon’s teeth graze my neck and everything sparks white-hot again.
I whimper, hips shifting in a helpless roll against the nearest body—Carson’s, I think.
Hands roam over my skin, warm and possessive.
Someone’s fingers trace my spine. Someone else palms my breast, sending another jolt of heat spiraling low.
I can’t keep track anymore. The room is all scent and heat and the soft rustle of blankets as they guide me down into my nest.
My head tilts back on instinct, baring my throat, and Graham claims the invitation, pressing his mouth to the curve of my neck. His low groan rumbles through me, primal and raw.
“Beautiful,” he mutters, voice thick. “Perfect little omega.”
I keen softly, arching into the touch, my body answering for me when words are beyond reach. Every nerve feels awake and hungry. My thoughts are slipping like water through my fingers, replaced with need, need, need.
Carson’s lips close around my nipple, sucking gently, and I gasp, my fingers flying to his hair. Hunter’s hand slides down my belly, pausing just above where I’m slick and aching.
Finn shifts closer, murmuring soft encouragement I can barely process, his touch gliding along my hip. He’s the thread holding me together while the others unravel me with heat and instinct.
“Let go, Willow,” he coaxes, voice velvet. “We’ve got you.”
I whimper his name, then Landon’s, then maybe Graham’s—I can’t tell anymore. Their scents are all around me, inside me, spinning my head until I’m pure sensation. My body moves without thought, arching, writhing, presenting for them as if every cell knows this is where I belong.
Hunter’s fingers finally slide through the slick between my thighs, and I cry out, nails digging into Carson’s shoulder. My heat roars to life, claiming every inch of me, and thought gives way to instinct completely. I’m theirs. I need them. All of them.
Graham growls against my skin, nipping lightly at my shoulder, and the sound draws a broken moan from my throat. Finn cups my face, kissing me slow and deep, an anchor amid the chaos.
“Good girl,” someone murmurs—Graham, I think—but it’s swallowed by a wave of heat and the press of mouths and hands everywhere at once.
The room is nothing but heat and scent and the soft weight of my nest under me. I float, untethered, carried on the tide of hands and mouths and low, rumbling voices that all belong to me.
A warm mouth closes over my throat, and my whole body arches. Landon. I know it without opening my eyes, because his musk wraps around me like the memory of first love and forever.
“Bite me,” I whisper, or maybe I moan it—it doesn’t matter. My voice is raw with need. “Make it real. Make it forever.”
His teeth sink in, slow and deliberate, and the forever bond flares to life—hot and dizzying.
My vision whites out. A startled cry tears from my throat as something deep inside me snaps, the bond pulling tight and locking.
My body jerks, trembling, and slick gushes between my thighs.
I’m gone, gasping, riding the edge of pleasure just from that connection.
One of them pushes into me, the feel of them sliding in and out is too much and not enough all at once. I moan, pressing my head back into the pillows. More. I need more.
Carson groans against my breast, his voice low and hungry. “Fuck, I can feel it. Her heat is bringing on my rut.”
Finn kisses my temple, steadying me even as his thumb strokes slow circles on my hip. “That’s it, little fire. You’re doing so good.”