Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
beau
I watch her trying to put back the third blanket she’s picked up in the last ten minutes.
“Willa,” I say, low and even. A warning.
She freezes, the cream-colored throw still in her hands. “It’s just… I already have two blankets in the cart. I don’t need—”
“Put it in the cart.”
“But—”
“Cart. Now.”
Her Omega responds before her mind catches up—she places the blanket in the cart, her movements automatic. Then she blinks, seeming to realize what she just did, and her scent spikes, vanilla thickening until I can taste it on my tongue.
“Beau,” she starts, that stubborn tilt to her chin appearing, “I’m serious. This is too much. You’ve already spent—”
I step into her space, backing her up against the display of pillows. Not touching, not yet, just letting my size remind her exactly what I am. What she is.
“Let me explain something to you, love.” My voice drops into that register that makes Omegas shiver. Makes them listen. “You’re our Omega. That means we get to take care of you. Spoil you. Give you everything you want and everything you didn’t even know you needed.”
“I know, but—”
“I’m not finished.” The words come out sharp enough that her mouth snaps shut.
“You’ve spent a lifetime taking care of yourself.
A lifetime of being strong and independent and not asking for anything from anyone.
A lifetime without the care your Omega needed, deserved.
And I’m proud of you for that. But it ends now. ”
Her breathing picks up. Her pupils are dilating, and the scent pouring off her is pure arousal mixed with submission.
“We want to do this,” I continue, my hand coming up to cup her jaw.
My thumb brushes over her lower lip, and she sucks in a breath.
“My Alpha wants to see you drowning in comfort. Wants to know you’re safe and warm and taken care of.
So when you try to put things back, when you tell us it’s too much, you’re denying us what we need. ”
“I… I didn’t think of it that way.”
“I’m aware.” I lean down, my nose brushing her temple, scenting her. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to stop arguing. You’re going to pick out everything you want. And you’re going to let us give it to you.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Good girl.”
The praise makes her scent explode around me—so sweet and thick I see Charlie and Jake both stop what they’re doing across the aisle, their heads turning toward us, catching her scent.
Her knees actually buckle slightly, and I wrap an arm around her waist to steady her.
“Easy,” I murmur against her ear. “I’ve got you.”
“That’s not fair,” she breathes. “You can’t just say things like that and expect me to function.”
“Why not?” I pull back to look at her face. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes hazy, her lips parted. “You like it when I praise you. When I tell you you’re being good for me.”
She nods, unable to form words.
“Then I’m going to keep doing it.” I press a claiming kiss to her forehead. “Because good girls get rewarded. And you’re going to be such a good girl for us today, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” The word comes out as a whimper.
“Yes, what?”
Her Omega knows what I want even if her human brain is still catching up. “Yes, Alpha.”
Satisfaction rolls through me, dark and possessive. “That’s my girl. Now pick out whatever you want. And if I see you trying to put anything back, there will be consequences.”
Her eyes widen. “Consequences?”
“The kind you’ll enjoy,” I promise, my voice dropping even lower.
I pull her into me, one hand spanning the small of her back, the other cupping her jaw. Her lips are already parted, her breath coming quick and shallow, and I can’t resist running my tongue along that tempting seam. Coaxing. Claiming.
She melts into me with a whimper, her hands fisting in my shirt, her body going soft and pliant against mine. The scent of her arousal floods the space between us so thick I can taste it.
I feel the exact moment the kiss shifts—when her Omega surrenders completely, when she stops thinking and just feels. My hand slides lower on her back, fingers itching to dip beneath her waistband, to feel the slick I know is already soaking through her panties.
There is something about this woman that makes me want to make her submit.
I gentle the kiss, then tug her bottom lip between my teeth. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make her gasp. To remind her who’s in control.
“Do you trust me, Omega?” I murmur against her mouth.
“Yes,” she breathes, the word barely a whisper. “Yes, Alpha.”
“Then be good.”
I step back, releasing her, and she sways slightly before catching herself. Her scent is still flooding the aisle, thick enough that the Beta associate glances over with a knowing smile.
“I’ll be good,” Willa says, her voice steadier now. “I promise.”
“I know you will.” I gesture toward the rest of the pillow display. “Now show me what else you want.”
Fifteen minutes later, Willa’s laughing as Jake holds up a ridiculous decorative pillow shaped like a cloud.
“Absolutely not,” she says.
“But it’s cute!” Jake protests.
“It’s impractical.”
“Since when do pillows need to be practical?” Charlie calls from the blanket section.
“Since always!” But she’s grinning, and her scent is soft and happy. Content.
I’m loading another set of sheets into our second cart when she freezes in front of a display of fairy lights.
“Okay,” she says, trying for casual and failing. “But I definitely don’t need these.”
I set down the sheets and walk over to her. She’s staring at the warm white lights like they hung the moon, her fingers tracing the package.
“You want them, though,” I say. Not a question.
She bites her lip. “They’re pretty.”
“Then we’re getting them.” I grab three sets and add them to the cart.
She snaps her mouth shut. And I fucking love the soft look of surprise and pleasure on her face.
“That’s what I thought.” I step closer, softly holding her neck at her shoulder. “Are you testing to see if I meant what I said?”
“No! I just—” She breaks off when I raise an eyebrow. “Maybe a little?”
At least she’s honest.
“You want to know if I’ll follow through. If I’ll really take care of you the way I promised.”
She nods, and I see the vulnerability there. The little girl who learned not to ask for things because asking meant disappointment. The Omega who’s been hurt by Alphas who took rather than gave.
“I always follow through,” I tell her, my voice soft but firm. “Always. When I say I’m going to spoil you, I mean it. When I say you deserve everything, I mean that, too. And when I say there will be consequences if you keep arguing…”
I let the sentence hang, watching her pupils dilate further.
“I mean that most of all.”
“Oh,” she breathes.
“So.” I lean down until my lips are at her ear, until she’s breathing my scent and I’m drowning in hers. “Are you going to be good? Or do I need to make you be good?”
The whimper that escapes her is answer enough.
When I pull back, her eyes are glazed, and her scent is pure want.
“Come on,” I say, taking her hand. “Let’s finish shopping. And then we’ll show you the real surprise.”
Two hours later, we’ve filled four carts, and Willa has stopped trying to put things back.
She’s fully engaged now—testing pillow firmness, comparing blanket weights, holding fabrics up to the light to see how they look. Her scent is consistently happy, that edge of anxiety completely gone.
This is how she should always be. Relaxed. Cared for. Mine.
At checkout, when the total flashes on the screen, she pales.
“Beau, that’s—”
“Worth it,” I say firmly, handing over my card before she can finish the protest.
Charlie and Jake are already loading bags into carts, and I help, making sure nothing gets crushed or damaged. By the time we get everything into the Land Rover, the back is bursting.
Willa just stares at it.
“This is insane,” she states.
“This is just the beginning,” Jake says, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
The drive back is quiet, peaceful. Willa’s wedged between Jake and me in the back seat this time, her head on Jake’s shoulder, her scent soft and content.
My Alpha purrs with satisfaction. She’s happy. We made her happy.
“So,” Willa says after about twenty minutes, “where exactly am I supposed to put all of this?”
Charlie glances at her in the rearview mirror. “That’s the other part of the surprise.”
“Other part?”
“We might have done some renovating,” Jake says carefully.
We pull up to the house fifteen minutes later, and Willa practically vibrates with anticipation.
“Close your eyes,” Charlie tells her.
She sighs but complies. He guides her up the porch steps, through the house, up the stairs. My heart is pounding. What if she hates it? What if it’s not what she wanted?
But then Charlie opens the door, and I know it’s perfect.
“Okay,” Charlie says softly. “Open.”
She does.
And she gasps.
The walls are summer sky blue. Twinkle lights cast a warm, golden glow across the space. Gauzy white curtains filter afternoon sun through the windows. And in the center sits a huge floor mattress, waiting for all the blankets and pillows we bought today.
“It’s a nest!” Her voice cracks on the words. I can feel her trying to hold back the tidal wave of emotion. The bond we’re building hums between us, fragile and new.
She steps into the room slowly, reverently, then spins in a circle, taking it all in. The lights. The curtains. The space we made just for her.
But it’s the wall of shelves beneath the windows that breaks her.
Rows and rows of books. Her books. Charlie told us he remembered how she used to hide them from her father, sneaking them into her room like contraband. It only took a couple of phone calls to track them down.
“How did you—” Her voice shatters. “Charlie, how did you know?”
“I’ve always known.” Charlie moves closer. “I used to see you sneaking them in. Hiding them under your bed. I never told anyone. They were yours.”
She launches herself into his arms, her body shaking with sobs she’s trying and failing to hold back.
“Fuck, you assholes,” she whispers against his chest. “This is perfect. You’re all perfect.”
My chest tightens. Yeah. This is what I wanted. What we all wanted.
It takes an hour to haul everything upstairs and help her arrange it.
Willa builds her nest with the precision of an artist—layering blankets just so, arranging pillows in specific clusters, adjusting the curtains until the light hits exactly right. We help where she directs us, but mostly we just watch her work.
She’s glowing. In her element. Happy.
When she finally steps back to survey her work, I’ve never seen her look more content.
“It’s perfect,” she breathes, turning to face us.
Then she closes her eyes and falls backward onto the nest like she’s been doing it her whole life. Like she belongs here.
The image sears itself into my brain—Willa surrounded by softness and light, her hair fanned out across the pillows, her face relaxed and peaceful. This woman, in her nest, in our home. It’s the kind of memory I’ll carry to my deathbed.
She burrows deeper into the blankets and pillows, practically disappearing into them. The room is awash in soft light now. Outside, the sun has set completely.
Her breathing evens out. She’s already asleep.
“Come on,” I murmur to the pack, jerking my head toward the door. “Let’s leave her to it.”
We back out quietly, closing the door with barely a sound.
In the hallway, Jake grins at Charlie. “I’ll start dinner.”
Charlie nods, but he’s staring at the closed door like he can see through it to where Willa’s sleeping.
I know the feeling.
Suddenly, retirement sounds like the best fucking thing in the world if it means I get to spend every day like this—with this woman, in this house, wrapped up in her arms while she sleeps in her nest.
Yeah.
I could get used to this.