Chapter 21
Rowan
I wake slowly, my limbs heavy, my skin damp with sweat, and the faintest ache echoing between my thighs. Everything is soft. Too soft. The scent of peaches, honey, and something deeper lingers in the air like a whispered secret, and for one disoriented moment, I think I’m still dreaming.
But then I sit up. This isn’t my apartment. The walls are different. Taller. Softer in color. There’s no plant in the corner, no familiar click of the radiator. The bed, no the nest, is bigger than anything I’ve ever slept in. Piles of pillows and soft blankets surround me in a shallow bowl of comfort, but the structure isn’t mine. It’s someone else’s hands that laid these blankets down. Someone else’s instinct that built this place around me.
It’s a Nest. I freeze. A nest. A real Omega nest. And I’m in it. My heart kicks hard against my ribs. The memories come in a rush: Sébastien’s voice, the fever in my skin, the trembling in my legs, the ache that went so deep I thought I might break in half. And then his hands. Gentle. Anchoring me. Pulling me through the storm.
I remember saying yes. Actually, I may have begged him. That’s embarrassing. But that’s not what sends me into a spiral. It’s the truth I can’t outrun anymore. I’m an Omega. Not just fragrant. Not just hormonal. Not just a Beta with “strong nesting instincts” like I’d always told myself. I’ve presented.
After twenty-four years of being a disappointment. Of being the Hart family’s most forgettable failure. After years of silence from them. No birthday cards, no calls, no messages. I still held some broken, pathetic hope that maybe if I had been born an Omega, they’d have loved me better.
But now? Now I am an Omega. And they’ll never know. Because I will never give them the satisfaction of knowing. They don’t get this version of me. They don’t get to come back now. Tears sting the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. I won’t cry. Not today.
I run my fingers over the edge of the nearest blanket. It's soft, handwoven, slightly frayed at the edges, chosen with care. Someone brought these things for me. Someone knew I’d need them. Not my family. Not the people who raised me.
But them. The pack. Cole. Massimo. Xavier. Sébastien.
My pack?
The word feels dangerous and too big, but I don’t let it go. I shift beneath the blankets, the scent of Sébastien still clinging to my skin like a balm. I should be panicking. Instead, I feel... still. Fragile, but grounded. Like something inside me finally knows who I am. And for the first time in my life, I’m not ashamed of it.
A soft knock at the door breaks the silence. I tense instinctively, tugging the nearest blanket around me. My body remembers too well the last time I wasn’t alone. But this moment isn’t fear. It’s anticipation. Confusion. Something warmer threading under my skin.
The door creaks open slowly. Sébastien. His eyes are gentle, soft gray like fog at sunrise, cautious as they land on me. He doesn’t step inside right away, just lingers in the doorway, his posture respectful, careful.
He’s wearing a fresh shirt, slightly wrinkled like he dressed in a hurry. A thin streak of flour or maybe dust from one of the boxes he carried clings to his shoulder. His scent follows him in; wild honey, rain, and vanilla. Warm, grounding, dangerously comforting.
“May I come in?” he asks quietly.
I nod, not trusting my voice. He closes the door behind him and steps closer, but not too close. He kneels at the edge of the nest, hands resting on his thighs, waiting like he’s not sure what version of me he’s going to get. I’m not sure either.
“I didn’t know if you’d still be asleep,” he says softly. “You were exhausted.”
“I still am,” I admit. My voice is hoarse. “But I didn’t want to be alone.”
Something flickers across his face. Relief, maybe. Or something deeper.
“I brought a few things for your nest. We raided the company vault,” he says with a small smile. “Massimo nearly lost his mind when I tried to take over three types of velvet.”
That gets a weak laugh from me. Just a small one. But it feels good. Sébastien doesn’t push. He doesn’t ask how I’m feeling. He doesn’t start listing everything that happened. He just sits quietly with me, his presence anchoring the storm still swirling inside me.
“I feel... different,” I say finally, wrapping my arms around my knees. “Like I’ve shed a skin I didn’t know I was wearing.”
“You have,” he says. “And you’re allowed to feel everything that comes with it.”
I nod slowly. “I think I’m grieving a little. Not because I’m an Omega. But because I spent so long believing I wasn’t.”
Sébastien leans forward slightly, his eyes never leave mine. “You’re not alone in this, Rowan. Not anymore.”