Chapter 1 – REGINA #2
Movement near the window catches my attention as I stretch like a cat on the couch. Killian is sprawled on the floor beside the couch, his massive frame somehow folded into something resembling a comfortable position. A spare blanket covers most of him, one bare foot sticking out.
He must have fallen asleep while watching over me.
They've been doing that lately. Taking shifts, making sure someone's always nearby.
I've noticed them disappearing periodically and heard the distant howls that mean they're running in the woods.
Sometimes I'll catch glimpses of them heading to class.
But they're careful never to shift in front of me.
They don't want to scare me.
Kind of sweet, but also fucking mortifying.
Killian's eyes snap open, immediately alert. Shifter reflexes. One second unconscious, the next completely awake and scanning for threats.
I jump a little despite myself.
The dream is way too fresh.
"Hey." His voice is rough with sleep. "You okay?"
"Just a bad dream." I push myself upright, the grimoire sliding off my chest. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."
He's on his feet before I can protest, scooping me up like I weigh nothing. Compared to him, I basically do.
"Killian, I haven't finished—"
"The ritual can wait." He's already heading for the stairs, barely holding back a growly yawn that vibrates through his whole torso. "You need actual rest. In an actual bed."
"I'm fine."
"You're running on fumes." He adjusts his grip, pulling me closer against his chest. "That's the opposite of fine."
I want to argue with him. Sort of. The research is important, the new moon is approaching, and there's still so much shit to figure out. But my aching muscles have other ideas, relaxing into his warmth.
I kind of like being carried like this.
Killian carries me up the stairs and down the hall to my room. He sets me on the bed with surprising gentleness for a giant wolf shifter, then leans down to press a soft kiss against my forehead, his hair falling forward and brushing against the bridge of my nose.
"Need anything?"
I hesitate. The nightmare still clings to me like spiderwebs and I find myself thinking I actually don't want to be alone right now.
"Would you... stay?"
Killian's expression shifts. Something warm and fierce and vulnerable flickers across his features, like I've just offered him the entire world on a silver platter.
"Yeah," he says quietly. "I can do that."
He climbs into the bed beside me, settling against the pillows and pulling me against his side. His arm wraps around my shoulders, heavy and warm and reassuring. He doesn't try anything, doesn't let his hands wander, doesn't push for more. Just holds me.
I'm actually drifting toward real sleep when the door crashes open with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball.
"What the fuck!" Sean's voice booms through the room. "No one told me a cuddle pile had been started!"
"There's no cuddle pile," Killian growls possessively, his arms tightening around me. "Go away."
"Looks like a cuddle pile to me." Sean's already crossing to the bed, grinning like a maniac. "And I refuse to be excluded from cuddle-pile-related activities. It's my right as a bona fide pack member."
"Technically, we're not officially a pack until we fill out the paperwork," Killian grumbles.
"Details."
"Sean—"
But Sean is already diving onto the bed, the mattress bouncing dangerously under the gigantic alpha's weight. He burrows in on my other side, pressing his nose against my neck and inhaling deeply.
"Mmm. Witch-scented."
Despite everything—the nightmare, the exhaustion, the chaos of the past few days—a laugh bubbles up from my chest. "Did you just smell me?" I playfully shove him off. Or try. It's like trying to push away a grizzly bear. "I'm not a candle, Sean."
"Abso-fucking-lutely." He sniffs again, making an exaggerated show of it. "My favorite perfume. Notes of old magic, forest after rain, and—" Another sniff. "—Killian's Old Spice? Is that wolfthorn? Talk about on the nose. Gross, dude. Get your scent off our mate, it's ruining the vibe."
"You're the one who barged in," Killian points out dryly.
Sean ignores him, pulling out his phone and tapping rapidly at the screen. "Group text time."
Killian groans. "Could you not?"
"Bro, it's my duty as the official frat communications director."
"Did you seriously just make up a whole position?"
Sean ignores him.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. So does Killian's, somewhere across the room. I reach for my phone because I'm curious.
KNOTHEAD
CUDDLE PILE IN PROGRESS. REGINA'S ROOM. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
"Dumbass," Killian mutters.
Within minutes, footsteps thunder down the hall. Rowan appears first, raising an eyebrow at the scene before him. Micah is right behind him, and I notice he still has twigs caught in his hair, clearly having shifted recently.
"How did you even check your phone in wolf form?" Killian asks.
Micah shrugs. "Carried it in my mouth."
Rowan's face twists in disgust. "That explains so fucking much about the state of your phone screen. At least get a lanyard."
"Uh. No thanks."
"You're addicted, bro," Sean announces solemnly. "We need to stage an intervention."
Micah is already climbing onto the bed, wedging himself between Sean and the headboard. "I don't want to miss a text from Regina."
"Adorable and pathetic," Sean says approvingly.
Rowan hesitates in the doorway for approximately two seconds before giving in and joining the pile. The bed really isn't designed for five adults, but somehow they make it work. It's a tangle of limbs and warmth and growling, but it works.
"This bed is too small," Rowan mumbles.
"We'll get a bigger one for this room, too," Killian says immediately. "But maybe the nest would be a better idea."
"You mean the weird pit in the den you guys won't let me look at?" I ask.
"It has to be perfect!" Sean says immediately. "You'll be judging our worthiness as mates based on the nest. We can't have a fucked up pillow-to-snack storage ratio."
"I can absolutely promise you I'm not judging your worthiness as mates by that," I say flatly. "I'm not a shifter, remember?"
They all seem to consider this for about three seconds.
"More pillows?" Sean asks, looking over at Micah.
"More pillows," Micah agrees with a solemn nod.
I sigh half-heartedly and roll my eyes, flopping my head back onto the pillow. But it's admittedly kind of tough to be grumpy when I'm surrounded by four human furnaces who happen to give excellent cuddles.
Too bad the university doesn't offer that as a concentration, or they'd all be passing with flying colors.
"You're hopeless," I say, a grin tugging at my lips. The side that can grin normally, at least. The dream's still fucking with my head enough that I turn my head so the bad side is against the pillow.
Luckily, the pack of himbo wolves doesn't seem to notice. Or if they do, they don't comment on it.
Their bickering fades into pleasant background noise as warmth seeps into my bones, insomnia be damned. The weight of warm bodies and the rumble of masculine voices debating nesting materials makes it difficult to even remember what the nightmare was about.
I don't think I'll have any more nightmares tonight.