Chapter 39 – BELLA
CHAPTER 39
BELLA
I wake up to warmth.
Not the stifling, artificial environment of Braxley's penthouse, but the living, breathing warmth of bodies curved protectively around mine.
For a moment, I keep my eyes closed, savoring being completely surrounded by my alphas. Their scents mingle in the air, enveloping me as snugly as the blankets.
The mattress dips slightly beside me. Without opening my eyes, I know Cole is getting up. His scent recedes slightly as he moves away. I resist the urge to reach for him, to pull him back into our nest of tangled limbs.
Instead, I crack one eye open, watching through my lashes as he moves silently across the bedroom. Dawn light filters through the curtains, bathing everything in gentle blue. His muscular silhouette is outlined against this backdrop as he carefully opens the door and slips out, avoiding the creaky floorboard that Troy had tripped over last night.
I miss him already.
The realization runs through me that has nothing to do with the cool morning air slipping beneath the blankets where Cole had been. I'm not just observing their pack from the outside anymore.
Somehow, impossibly, I've become part of it.
Beside me, Roman stirs, his arm tightening momentarily around my waist before relaxing again. His breath is warm against the back of my neck, steady and deep. Troy sprawls like a giant puppy, one leg thrown over my leg, his hand draped lazily on Roman's arm. Savva looks dignified even in unconsciousness, stretched out along the edge of the bed on his back with his head turned slightly to the side, long hair spilling over the pillow like an auburn halo. And Liam, protective even in sleep, has ended up near the foot of the bed, as if guarding me from the door.
My pack. The notion feels both foreign and natural at once, like a word in a language I've never spoken but somehow understand.
I absorb the reality of where I am. In a remote cabin in the mountains, tucked away from the world, surrounded by five alphas who, by some miracle, are all my scent matches. Just yesterday, I'd been trapped with a man who couldn't even bring himself to touch me, preparing to sacrifice my happiness for my family's financial security and social aspirations.
Now, everything has changed. I've changed. The thought sends both excitement and terror racing through me.
A soft clinking sound from beyond the bedroom door draws my attention. Cole must be in the kitchen. Carefully, I extract myself from the tangle of sleeping alphas, smiling as Troy makes a small sound of protest before promptly slinging an arm across Roman's chest instead. Roman, still deeply asleep, merely accommodates the movement without waking.
The floor is cool beneath my bare feet as I pad across the room. I pause in the doorway, looking back at the sleeping alphas. My breath catches at the sight—four powerful men, lethal in their own rights, vulnerable in sleep.
Trusting me. Letting me see them this way.
I could get used to this.
The hallway is dim, lit only by what little dawn light filters through the windows at either end. I follow the soft sounds to the kitchen, where I find Cole standing at the counter, his back to me as he measures coffee grounds into a filter. He's already dressed in dark jeans and a fitted black t-shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders. His white hair is still tousled from sleep.
"You're staring," he says without turning around, his deep voice quiet in the still morning air.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. "How did you know I was here?"
"Heard you get up. Smelled you coming down the hall." Now he does turn, his single blue eye finding mine with unerring accuracy. "Sleep okay?"
I nod, moving further into the kitchen. "Better than I have in years."
Surprise and a hint of disbelief flicker in his gaze. "Good."
Such a simple word, yet I can hear everything he's not saying beneath it. Cole doesn't waste words. Every utterance carries weight, meaning layered beneath meaning.
"Need help?" I ask, gesturing to the coffee maker.
He shakes his head. "Almost done. You could get mugs, though, if you want. Cabinet above the dishwasher."
I move to the indicated cabinet, opening it to find a collection of mismatched mugs. Each one seems to have character—some are clearly handmade pottery, others have funny sayings or faded logos. Nothing matching, nothing perfect. Nothing like the carefully curated, Instagram-worthy mugs Braxley insisted upon.
"These are great," I say, pulling one out. "So much personality."
Cole glances over. I notice he's already put his prosthetic eye back in. "Troy collects them. Everywhere we go, he finds the ugliest mug in the gift shop and brings it home."
The casual mention of "home" makes me pause. This cabin, then, isn't just a safe house. It's their actual home—the place they return to between jobs, the space they've made their own. And they've welcomed me into it without hesitation.
I select five mugs, each one different, and set them on the counter. As I reach for the sixth mug—this one shaped like a bear's head—I feel a strange flutter low in my belly. A warmth that spreads outward, making my skin feel suddenly sensitive. I freeze, mug half-lifted from the shelf.
My heat. It's starting to build.
"Bella?" Cole's voice breaks through my momentary panic. He's watching me with concern, his head tilted slightly to one side. "You okay?"
I carefully set the mug down before answering. "Fine. Just... I think my heat's starting."
His expression shifts immediately, becoming more alert, more focused. His nostrils flare slightly as he scents the air, and I watch as his pupil dilates in response to whatever he detects. "Early stages," he confirms, his voice rougher than before. "Probably have most of today before it hits full force."
The matter-of-fact way he discusses it calms me somewhat. This will not only be my first true heat, but with five alphas, no less. The thought sends another wave of prickling warmth through me.
"Do you still want to go into town today?" Cole asks, turning back to the coffee maker. His movements are more deliberate now, more controlled. "We can stay here if you'd prefer."
I consider this for a moment. The idea of staying in the cabin, just the six of us, is tempting. But I still need supplies for my nest, and the thought of exploring this mountain town with my alphas appeals to me.
"I still want to go," I decide. "The shop—Soft Spot, right?—will have things I need for my nest." I pause, watching his profile. "Unless you think it's not safe?"
Cole shakes his head. "It's safe. Small town, people mind their business. And you'll have five alphas with you." His lip curls slightly on his good side. "Nobody's getting near you."
The possessive note in his voice makes the prickling warmth spike. I've never had anyone be so protective of me before. My parents certainly never were, always more concerned with their own status and comfort than my wellbeing. And Braxley... well, Braxley only cared about how I made him look.
But these five men—these five alphas—they protect me because they value me. Me, Bella Emerson, not what I represent or what I can do for them.
The coffee maker finishes brewing with a final hiss of steam. Cole reaches for the carafe just as the first of the others begins to stir. I hear a thump from the bedroom, followed by Troy's sleep-roughened voice complaining about something and Liam's rumbling response.
"Perfect timing," I say with a smile, reaching for the first mug. "They always wake up like this?"
Cole nods, pouring the dark coffee into each mug in turn. "Troy falls out of bed about three mornings a week. Roman takes at least twenty minutes to become human. Savva's already been awake for an hour, just lying there in his thoughts. And Liam..."
As if on cue, Liam appears in the doorway, his massive frame filling the space. His dark hair is disheveled, the "Memento Mori" tattoo on the side of his head obscured by sleep-mussed strands. He's wearing only a pair of low-slung sweatpants, his tattooed torso bare.
"Coffee," he growls, making it sound like both a plea and a demand.
Cole silently hands him a mug with "too early for this shit" printed on it, and Liam takes it with a nod of thanks. His gray eyes find mine, softening immediately. "Morning, little omega."
The term of endearment makes my stomach flip pleasantly. "Morning, Liam."
He takes a long drink of coffee, then tilts his head, nostrils flaring slightly. His eyes sharpen, focusing on me with sudden intensity. "Your scent's changing."
I nod, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.
Liam exchanges a look with Cole, some silent communication passing between them. Then he moves further into the kitchen, coming to stand near me. Not touching, but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his skin.
"Still want to go to town?" he asks, his gorgeous accent thicker than usual with the lingering effects of sleep.
"Yeah," I say. "I need those nesting supplies."
Liam nods, taking another sip of his coffee. "Best get a move on then. Once the others are properly caffeinated."
Troy stumbles into the kitchen next, followed closely by an immaculately put-together Savva. Troy's hair is tousled and one eye is still closed, like sleep is a living thing that kicked his ass all night. Savva, in contrast, looks like he could step into a business meeting without changing a thing, dressed in pressed slacks and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
"Coffee," Troy moans, making grabby hands toward the pot. "Feed me, Seymour."
Cole wordlessly passes him the bear mug. Troy takes it, inhales the steam, and makes a sound that borders on indecent.
"Honestly, Troy," Savva says, accepting a plain navy blue mug from Cole with a nod of thanks. "Must you be so dramatic before breakfast?"
"It's not drama, it's appreciation," Troy retorts, taking a long drink. "Some of us actually have emotions, Savva."
Savva raises an eyebrow. "I have emotions. I simply don't feel the need to broadcast them at full volume like a particular golden retriever I could mention."
Troy grins, unrepentant. "Woof."
I can't help the laugh that bubbles up at their banter. Four alphas in a kitchen should feel overwhelming, intimidating even. But instead, it feels... right. Like the final pieces of a picture falling into place.
Roman is the last to join us, entering the kitchen with the careful movements of someone not yet fully awake. His dark hair has been combed, but his golden-hazel eyes are still heavy with sleep. He's wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs, his muscular body on full display in the morning light.
I try not to stare, but it's difficult—Roman De Luca in a state of dishevelment is a sight to behold.
Without a word, Cole hands him the "world's best alpha" mug. Roman takes it, drains half of it in one go, then finally seems to notice the rest of us watching him with varying degrees of amusement.
"What?" he asks, his voice a deep rumble.
"Nothing," Troy says innocently. "Just enjoying the morning show."
Roman narrows his eyes at Troy but doesn't respond. Instead, his gaze finds mine, and I watch as awareness sharpens his features. His nostrils flare subtly, and I know he's caught the change in my scent. The brewing heat.
"Bella," he says, my name carrying a wealth of meaning in his mouth. Question, concern, desire—all wrapped up in the way my name rolls off his tongue.
"I'm fine," I assure him. "Just the early stages. We still have time."
He nods slowly, finishing his coffee. "Breakfast first, then the shop?"
"That's the plan," Cole confirms, filling his own mug. I'd hoped he'd choose that one, which is why I positioned it so it would be the last mug available. It's all black, with two wolves painted on it. One white, one grayish brown, their noses touching so their heads form a heart shape. He catches me watching him, and when I smile at him, he offers a slight smile in return.
"I'm fucking starving," Troy announces, setting his empty mug in the sink. "There's a diner in town that does the best pancakes you've ever tasted, Bella. Like, legendary pancakes. The kind you'd tell your grandkids about."
"Better than yours?" Liam asks dryly.
"Way better," Troy says without skipping a beat.
"I could eat," I admit, smiling at Troy's enthusiasm.
"Excellent!" Troy claps his hands together. "Operation Breakfast is a go. Everyone get dressed in ten minutes or we're leaving without you."
"You're not dressed either," Savva points out.
Troy looks down at his boxers and rumpled t-shirt as if surprised to find them there. "Details, details."
As everyone disperses to get ready, I find myself lingering in the kitchen with Cole. The others shuffle back to the bedroom to collect their clothes and get dressed, leaving us in a comfortable silence punctuated only by the soft clink of mugs and the gentle hum of the refrigerator.
Cole moves to the sink, rinsing his empty coffee mug. His movements are efficient, measured, like everything he does. I watch the play of muscles beneath his t-shirt as he reaches to place the mug on the drying rack.
"I should get changed too," I say, but I don't move. Something holds me here, in this quiet moment with him.
He turns, leaning back against the counter, his single blue eye studying me. My hair is probably a disaster—I can feel it, tangled up and messy—and I haven't even brushed my teeth yet, but the way he looks at me makes me feel beautiful.
"Did you sleep at all?" I ask, moving closer to him.
A slight shake of his head. "No."
"Not even a little?"
His mouth quirks slightly at the corner that can still move. "Had better things to do."
"Like what?" I'm close enough now that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact with him.
"Watching you," he admits, his voice dropping lower. "Making sure you were safe."
The simple honesty of his words makes my heart squeeze in my chest. This incredible alpha spent the night keeping watch over me. Not because he had to. Not because it was his job. But because he wanted to.
"Thank you for holding me all night," I say softly, reaching up to touch his scarred cheek. "I loved it."
He goes still under my touch, his eye widening almost imperceptibly. For a second, I think he might pull away, might retreat behind those walls he's built so carefully around himself. But instead, he turns his face slightly, leaning into my palm.
"You looked peaceful," he murmurs.
"I was," I tell him. "I felt safe. Protected."
Something softens in his expression, a barely perceptible shift that most people would miss entirely. But I'm learning to read him, this man of few words and careful movements. I'm learning the language of Cole Beaumont, spoken not in sentences but in minute changes of expression, in the tightening or relaxation of his shoulders, in the focus of his gaze.
I rise on my tiptoes and press a kiss to his lips, lingering there for a moment as he freezes. "I'm not sure I ever thanked you properly," I say against his skin.
His hands come up to rest lightly on my waist, steadying me. "For what?"
I pull back just enough to meet his eye, but stay close, within the circle of his arms. "For being the first one to really see me. Not as an omega, not as Braxley's fiancée, but just... me."
Cole's expression changes, the shadows that usually haunt his face lifting slightly. He brings his hand up to cup my cheek, his scarred palm gentle against my skin.
"Hard not to see someone who shines so bright, Bella," he says, his voice rough and husky.
My breath catches at his words, at the raw honesty in them. This isn't the practiced flattery of someone like Braxley. This is Cole—straightforward, unvarnished Cole—telling me exactly what he sees when he looks at me.
Then he leans down and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is soft, tender. So at odds with his fierce exterior, yet so perfectly him. I melt into it, into him, my hands finding their way to his chest where I can feel his heart beating strong and steady through his shirt beneath my palms.
When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his chin, breathing him in. His stony scent wraps around me, as comforting as his arms are.
"I should go get dressed," I say, though I make no move to leave.
His arms tighten fractionally around me. "Probably."
But neither of us moves. For just a moment longer, we stand there in the kitchen, holding each other in the soft morning light. Outside, a bird calls across the lake, its song clear and sweet in the crisp mountain air.
"Bella?" Cole's voice is quiet, almost hesitant.
I look up at him. "Yes?"
For a moment, he seems to struggle with what he wants to say, his brow furrowing slightly. Then he simply shakes his head and presses another kiss to my forehead.
"Nothing. Just... thank you."
I smile, understanding all the things he isn't saying. With Cole, the silences matter as much as the words.
I give him one last squeeze before reluctantly stepping back. "See you in a few minutes?"
He nods, and as I turn to leave, I catch the hint of a genuine smile on his face. His expression is lighter, softer, less burdened than I've ever seen it.
And somehow, I know that today is going to be a good day.