Chapter 21 #2
“I’ll be right out here,” I tell her. “If you need anything.”
She nods, and I think I see something flash in her eyes. Gratitude, maybe. Or something deeper that I might be imagining because I want it so bad.
The door closes softly between us.
I lean against the wall outside, listening for any sounds of distress. My alpha is prowling restlessly, unhappy about the separation even though it’s only a door and a few feet. Want to be closer. Want to make sure she’s safe.
Want to keep her.
The bathroom door opens a few minutes later and Sierra emerges, looking slightly more alert but still unsteady.
“Okay?” I ask.
“Okay,” she confirms. Then, with a small smile, “Ready to be carried back now.”
The admission makes something warm bloom in my chest.
I scoop her up again, and this time she settles against my chest more easily. Like she’s getting used to being held by me. Like it’s becoming natural.
When we turn, I notice Jalen is missing from the nest.
“Where’d he go?” Sierra asks, echoing my thought.
“Preparing something,” Malik says mysteriously. He’s sitting up now, looking more awake. “You’ll see.”
Before Sierra can ask what that means, Jalen appears in the doorway. His expression is pleased, satisfied in a way that makes me curious.
“It’s ready,” he announces.
“What’s ready?” Sierra asks.
“Come see,” Jalen says, holding out his hand.
I carry her to the main bathroom and stop, letting her see what Jalen’s done.
The bathtub is full of steaming water, and I can smell... lavender? Something soothing and gentle. There are towels warming on the rack, and he’s even found some kind of bath salts or oils that make the water shimmer slightly.
Sierra’s sharp intake of breath tells me she understands. They’ve drawn her a bath.
“I thought you might want to soak,” Jalen says, suddenly looking uncertain. “After everything. But if you’d rather shower or just go back to the nest—”
“It’s perfect,” Sierra interrupts, and her voice has gone soft. Almost wondering. “You did this for me?”
“Of course we did,” Cole says from where he’s appeared in the doorway. “You’ve been through a lot.”
I can feel Sierra trembling slightly in my arms, but it’s not from weakness this time. It’s emotion. The kind that makes my alpha want to wrap around her and protect her from whatever is making her feel so much.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“Can we help?” Malik asks, stepping closer. “Or would you prefer privacy?”
The question hangs in the air. This is different from the heat. Different from the nest. Sierra is quiet for a long moment. Long enough for me to think she will say no.
“You can help,” she says finally, heat climbing up her cheeks. “If you want to.”
If we want to.
Like there’s any question.
“We want to,” I say, speaking for all of us. “But you need to know. If at any point you change your mind, if this becomes too much or too weird, you just say the word and we’ll leave you to it. Okay?”
She nods, and I can see her swallow hard. “Okay.”
I carry her to the tub and set her down gently on the edge. She’s wearing just the sleep shirt we helped her into before, soft and oversized and utterly unsuitable for bathing.
“Arms up,” I say gently, and she complies.
My hands are steady as I help her pull the shirt over her head, even though seeing her bare again after the heat has faded makes something primal surge in my chest. This isn’t heat.
This is just Sierra, trusting us enough to be vulnerable, and that feels infinitely more intimate than anything that happened during her cycle.
She’s beautiful. All soft curves and warm skin, with faint marks still visible on her hips, her thighs, her throat. Evidence of what we shared. What we gave her.
What she gave us.
I can see her cheeks flushing as we all look at her, but she doesn’t try to cover herself. Just sits there, bare and perfect and trusting.
“In you go,” Jalen says softly, offering his hand.
Sierra takes it and lets him help her stand. Her legs shake slightly, and I move to support her other side, Cole stepping in to steady her from behind. Together, we help her step into the tub.
The moment the hot water touches her skin, she makes this sound that’s part sigh, part moan, that goes straight through all of us. Her whole body seems to melt, tension draining away as she sinks into the warmth.
“Oh my God,” she breathes, eyes closing. “This is amazing.”
“Good,” Malik says, kneeling beside the tub. His hand trails through the water, checking the temperature. “Just relax, sweetheart. Let us take care of you.”
And she does.
Sierra leans back against the tub, letting the water lap at her shoulders, and just... surrenders.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Can I wash your hair?” Jalen asks softly, already reaching for the shampoo bottle.
“Please,” Sierra murmurs, and I can hear how much she means it.
Jalen moves to kneel at the head of the tub, and I watch as his hands disappear into Sierra’s hair. She makes another one of those contented sounds, her eyes drifting closed as he works the shampoo into a lather.
“Your hair is beautiful,” Jalen says quietly. “So soft.”
“It’s a mess,” Sierra murmurs.
“It’s perfect,” he counters, and the certainty in his voice makes her smile.
Malik has picked up a washcloth and is running it gently over her shoulders, her arms. Cole is on her other side, his hand trailing lazy patterns through the water near her knee. And I’m kneeling at the foot of the tub, watching all of this unfold, feeling something shift and settle in my chest.
I pick up another washcloth and gently lift one of Sierra’s feet from the water. She makes a small, surprised sound but doesn’t protest as I start washing carefully, working my way up her calf with gentle pressure.
“You don’t have to—” she starts.
“We want to,” I interrupt softly. “Let us do this for you, Sierra.”
She goes quiet, and when I glance up, I see tears gathering in her eyes. Happy ones, maybe.
“No one’s ever...” she starts, then stops. Swallows hard. “This is really nice.”
“You deserve nice,” Cole says simply. “You deserve to be taken care of.”
“All the time,” Malik adds, his washcloth moving in soothing circles across her back. “Not just during heat. Always.”
A new kind of silence falls, one filled with everything he didn’t say. This isn’t just about heat anymore. It’s about what we want. About what we’re offering, if she’ll have it.
But no one pushes. We just keep washing her, taking care of her, showing her without words what we can’t quite say yet.
Jalen rinses her hair carefully, his fingers massaging her scalp in a way that makes Sierra practically purr. “Lean back,” he murmurs. “I’ll get the conditioner.”
She complies, sinking deeper into the water, and I can see the tension continuing to drain from her body. The bath is working. She’s relaxing, letting go of whatever walls she normally keeps up.
Letting us in.
We work in silence for a while, the only sounds the gentle splash of water and Sierra’s occasional contented sighs. It’s peaceful in a way I didn’t know I needed. It feels…right.
“I could fall asleep in here,” Sierra mumbles after a while, her eyes still closed.
“Don’t,” Malik says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Drowning would really ruin the mood.”
That makes her laugh. A soft, breathy sound that fills the bathroom with warmth.
“Fair point,” she says, her voice still breathy with laughter.
“Besides,” Cole adds, “we have breakfast plans for you.”
Sierra’s eyes open at that, curiosity sparking. “Breakfast plans?”
“Mmhmm. Real food. Not just protein bars and whatever we could grab between heat waves.”
“I don’t even remember what real food tastes like,” Sierra admits.
“Then we’ll remind you,” I say, finishing with her other leg and setting the washcloth aside. “But first, let’s get you out before you turn into a prune.”
She looks down at her hands and makes a face. “Too late.”
“Come on,” Jalen says, standing and reaching for one of the warmed towels. “Up you go.”
Sierra rises slowly, water streaming off her body, and I can see her legs are steadier now. The bath helped. But when she steps out of the tub, she still sways slightly, and we’re all there immediately.
Jalen wraps the towel around her, Cole steadies her with a hand on her waist, and Malik grabs a second towel for her hair. I stay close, ready to catch her if she stumbles.
She doesn’t stumble, though. Just stands there, wrapped in warmth and surrounded by us, looking more centered than she has in days.
“Better?” I ask.
“So much better,” she confirms. Then, softer, “Thank you. All of you. This was... I don’t have words for what this was.”
“You don’t need words,” Jalen says, pressing a kiss to her damp temple. “We know.”
We help her dry off, working together like we’ve done this a thousand times before. Malik towels her hair while Cole helps her into fresh clothes. Another soft sleep shirt and shorts we found in her bag. Jalen and I make sure the bathroom is clean, water drained, towels hung to dry.
Like we’ve been doing this forever.
Like we could keep doing this forever.
By the time we’re done, Sierra is looking more alert. Her color is better, her movements steadier. Still tired, but recovering.
“Breakfast now?” she asks hopefully.
“Breakfast now,” Cole confirms. “But you’re not cooking.”
“I wasn’t going to offer,” Sierra says. “I can barely stand. Cooking seems ambitious.”
“You sit,” Malik instructs. “We’ll handle it.”
We help her to the kitchen, settling her at the table with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a glass of water in her hands. She watches us move around the kitchen with an expression I can’t quite read. Soft and wondering and maybe a little overwhelmed.
Cole immediately claims the stove, pulling out a pan with the confidence of someone who knows his way around a kitchen. Malik starts gathering ingredients. There’s eggs, bread, and fruit. Jalen sets about making coffee, the rich aroma filling the kitchen almost immediately.
And I... I just watch her watch us.
She’s so beautiful like this. Soft and relaxed and surrounded by pack. Her hair is still damp from the bath, curling slightly around her face. The sleep shirt is several sizes too big, hanging off one shoulder. She looks comfortable and safe.
Happy.
There’s that word again.
“What do you want?” Cole asks, turning from the stove. “Scrambled? Fried? Omelet?”
“Surprise me,” Sierra says. “I trust you.”
The words are casual, thrown out without thought. But they land heavy anyway.
She trusts us.
After everything. The rivalry. The competition. The heat. The vulnerability. She trusts us.
Cole’s expression softens. “Scrambled it is. With cheese and vegetables. The good stuff.”
He moves around the kitchen, and I find myself gravitating toward the counter to help. Malik is already there, chopping vegetables. We fall into a rhythm without discussion with Cole cooking, Malik prepping, and me setting plates and utensils.
Jalen brings Sierra a steaming mug of coffee.
“Perfect,” Sierra says after the first sip, and Jalen’s smile could light up the whole house.
“I’m glad,” he says, settling into the chair across from her.
I put the radio on, and it begins playing softly in the background, some morning talk show we’ve had on for white noise. But as Cole plates up the scrambled eggs and Malik slices fruit, the programming shifts to news.
“—storm system that has battered the coast for the past four days is finally clearing,” the announcer says. “Wind speeds have dropped significantly overnight, and while rain is expected to continue through this morning, the worst has passed.”
We all freeze.
The storm is clearing.
“Road crews are already assessing damage and beginning repairs,” the announcer continues. “Major routes should be passable in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, with full access restored by the end of the week.”
Tomorrow.
The roads could be clear by tomorrow.
Which means we could leave tomorrow.
I move to the window almost without thinking, reaching for the latch on the storm shutters. They resist at first, stiff from the salt spray and grit, but I force them open.
Gray light floods the kitchen.
The storm is still there, but it’s different now. The wind has calmed to a manageable level. The rain is steady but not violent. The ocean is still churning, but the waves aren’t the monsters they were before.
It’s almost over.
“Oh,” Sierra breathes from the table.
I turn to look at her and see my own realization reflected in her face. The understanding that this bubble we’ve been living in, this space outside normal time and rules and expectations, is about to burst.
Reality is coming back.
And with it, all the questions we’ve been avoiding.
What happens now? What does this mean? What are we to each other now?
The kitchen that felt warm and comfortable moments ago suddenly feels too small. Too quiet.
Cole sets the plate of eggs on the table, but no one moves to eat. We’re all just standing there, staring at the gray light filtering through the open shutters.
“So,” Malik says finally, his voice carefully neutral. “The storm’s clearing.”
“Yeah,” Sierra whispers. “It is.”
The tension in the room shifts. Tightens.
Changes into something none of us are quite ready to face.
But we’re going to have to, anyway.
Tomorrow.