Chapter 43 – LIAM
CHAPTER 43
LIAM
T he nest feels just right.
Fucking perfect, if I'm honest.
I stretch my legs, careful not to disturb the elaborate layout of blankets and pillows surrounding us. The way our omega has woven these fabrics reminds me of something ancient. Something encoded into the DNA of alphas, betas, and omegas long before modern civilization interfered.
"Stop moving around," Roman mutters from near the center of our den.
"I'm not moving around," I shoot back, moving a little extra just for him. "I'm getting comfortable."
Savva blows a puff of air through his nose, giving me an amused look that says he doesn't believe me for a second. The energy buzzing through my system isn't something I can easily hide from alphas who know me so well.
Cole remains silent, but his arm tightens around Bella's waist. She's nestled against him like she belongs there, and she does.
We all do.
We belong here, with her, in her nest.
The little invisible demon of anxiety that sits on my shoulder screeches in my ear that we don't even know yet if she's going to choose us permanently once we get her through her heat. But I feel deep down in my heart that she's going into.
I glance at her and she smiles at me, warm and sweet even though she's half asleep.
Yeah. Just a hunch.
"Where the fuck is Troy with the food?" I mutter, not just because I'm starving, but because the stillness makes me too aware of my own thoughts. And my thoughts right now are dangerous territory.
"He left two minutes ago," Roman says, checking his watch. "Should be here any time now, unless the delivery driver got lost."
"They didn't," Savva says dryly, looking back down at his phone. I can tell he's watching everything from his damn drone app. The way his fingers move on the screen is obvious enough.
The front door slams, followed by Troy's distinctive heavy footsteps. "Food's here!" he calls out.
"In here," Roman answers, though it's hardly necessary.
He knows where we are. Where we'll be spending the night, if our scent match will have us.
Troy appears in the doorway a moment later, his arms full of takeout bags. His blond hair is windblown, and he's grinning like he's pulled off some masterful heist instead of ordering from every restaurant in Sweetwater.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announces with unnecessary grandeur, "dinner is served."
"About bloody time. And there's only one lady," I grumble, though there's no heat behind it.
"You try juggling three different delivery apps with drivers who think you're going to unleash hell on them for stepping foot on your property," Troy retorts as he carefully steps into the nest. "I had to promise the Soft Spot guy an extra twenty bucks to even consider coming up here."
"You went to Soft Spot again?" Bella asks, sitting up as he unloads bags.
"Those cookies aren't going to order themselves," Troy replies, winking as he pulls out a turquoise box. "And Maggie sent a message. They have some new recipes they'd like you to try."
Her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink. "They're persistent."
"They're invested," Savva says, helping Troy organize the feast.
Bella doesn't seem to know what to say to that. I wish she would. Wish she'd throw us a bone. Something to make it more clear what's going through her mind right now where our futures with her as her scent matches are concerned.
From my spot, I observe as they lay out the spread. Platters of sliced meats, various cheeses, fresh bread, and Mediterranean sides. Troy arranges what can only be described as fancy junk food. Gourmet sliders, truffle fries, and honey-drizzled chicken bites. The turquoise box from Soft Spot is packed with an assortment of freshly baked cookies, and there are chocolate-covered strawberries of every flavor in the other.
"This is perfect," Bella says, clearly pleased with the variety. "Thank you, Troy."
He grins at her. "Anything for my princess."
She doesn't correct him. Doesn't tell him she isn't his princess. In fact, she seems to preen at that. Interesting.
Maybe we've got a chance after all.
"Wine?" Savva offers her, already uncorking a bottle.
"Please," she replies, reaching for a glass.
"To new beginnings," Roman proposes, raising his glass in a toast.
It's uncharacteristically sentimental coming from him, but I find myself lifting my glass along with the others.
"Fuck, that's delicious," Troy says, examining his glass with surprise. "What is this?"
"Brunello di Montalcino," Savva replies, the Italian name flowing effortlessly from his tongue. "2010 was an exceptional year."
"Of course you'd know that," I mutter, reaching for bread and brie.
"Some of us have interests beyond violence," Savva retorts mildly.
I grin at Savva as I spread some creamy brie on a thick slice of bread. "Violence pays the bills. Not all of us can be wine connoisseurs in our spare time."
"The two aren't mutually exclusive," he counters with that aristocratic tone that somehow never sounds pretentious coming from him.
Troy snorts as he tears into a slider. "Right. Because nothing says 'refined palate' like the taste of blood in your mouth."
"Speak for yourself," Savva says, his eyes narrowing. "I've never been hit in the mouth during an engagement."
"That's because you fight like a bloody ballerina," I say, earning a genuine laugh from Bella.
My heart feels like it's just grown ten sizes.
It's getting harder not to stare at her. The way she fits so perfectly into our group, how easily she banters with us. Like she's been here all along, just waiting to be found.
"Here, try this," Troy says to Bella, offering her one of the honey-drizzled chicken bites. "They're from that little place in town with the blue awning."
She takes the fork, her fingers brushing his, and I feel a ridiculous pang of jealousy at the simple contact. Get it together, Rourke. She's allowed to touch whoever she wants.
"That's incredible," she says, her voice vibrating with the beginnings of a purr.
I clear my throat, focusing intently on spreading more brie on a slice of artisan bread. That sound she just made is doing things to my self-control that I'm not ready to examine too closely.
"Here," I say, offering her a piece of bread and cheese with hot honey drizzled on top once I've composed myself. "If you like that, you'll love this combination."
Her eyes meet mine as she takes it with an adorable, happy smile. "Thank you, Liam."
She bites into it delicately, and I find myself watching her mouth entirely too closely. The way her lips press together as she chews, the small flick of her tongue to catch a crumb from the corner—shit, I need to look away before I embarrass myself.
"Verdict?" I manage to ask, my voice rougher than I intend.
"Delicious," she declares. "I never thought I'd say this, but I think I could get used to eating in a nest surrounded by five alpha bodyguards."
Roman chuckles at that. "We prefer 'security specialists,' if you don't mind."
"Mercenaries," Cole corrects with that gravelly voice of his.
"I prefer 'highly trained badasses,'" Troy adds with a grin, popping a truffle fry into his mouth.
"Semantics," Savva says dismissively, refilling Bella's wine glass before she even asks.
I notice how she's started to flush slightly, a rosy tint spreading across her cheeks that's much deeper than it should be considering she hasn't had much wine. The scent of her oncoming heat is sweetening, too, thickening the air.
"What about you, Liam?" she asks suddenly, catching me off guard. "What's your preferred job title?"
I consider for a moment, taking a sip of the ridiculously expensive wine Savva's poured. "Enforcer," I finally answer with a half-smile. "Simple, direct. Does what it says on the tin."
"It suits you," she says softly, her eyes lingering on my tattoos. "Though I think there's more to you than just enforcement."
I feel exposed suddenly, like she's seeing past the walls I've spent years building. "That's for me to know and you to find out," I counter, trying to keep my tone light.
"I'm looking forward to it," she says, and the sincerity in her voice nearly knocks me sideways.
Fuck me. She's not playing fair.
"What about you?" Cole asks her unexpectedly. "What would you call yourself?"
It's such a simple question, but I see it hits her like she's never really considered who she is. Not apart from what others have labeled her—fiancée, omega, accessory.
"I'm not sure," she admits after a moment. "I always wanted to be an artist, but I haven't picked up a brush in years."
“Righ,” I murmur. “I remember you told us that. But what’s the real reason you stopped?”
She shrugs, the movement making her loose t-shirt slip slightly off one shoulder. "Braxley thought it was impractical. Not befitting the future Mrs. Worthington III."
"Braxley's a wanker," I state flatly.
That startles a laugh out of her, bright and genuine. "Yes, he is."
"We have art supplies," Roman offers unexpectedly. "In the storage closet. Nothing fancy, but enough to get started again if you wanted while we find better paints, brushes, and canvases."
"Really?" Her face lights up. It's like watching the sun break through clouds.
"Left over from a job where we had to go undercover at an art retreat," Troy explains. "Roman's cover was as an aspiring watercolor guy."
"Watercolorist," Savva corrects him flatly.
"Same difference," says Troy without missing a beat.
Roman grimaces at the memory. "That was terrible."
"I'd love to see them," Bella says, and I can't tell if she means Roman's paintings or the art supplies.
"I'll dig them out tomorrow," Roman promises, and I notice he doesn't clarify either.
Bella shifts slightly, reaching for her wine glass, and I catch a brief wince cross her features. She recovers quickly, but I've been trained to notice micro-expressions, and that was definitely discomfort.
"You alright?" I ask quietly.
"Fine," she says too quickly, then reconsiders. "Just a little warm."
My gaze sharpens, looking for other signs. Her pupils are dilated more than the dim evening light would account for. The flush on her cheeks has deepened. Her scent has intensified even more, the honeyed caramel coffee notes becoming more pronounced.
She's going into heat.
Not full-blown yet, but it's coming.
I catch Roman's eye across the nest, and I know he's noticed too. His nostrils flare slightly as he scents the air, and he gives me an almost imperceptible nod.
"How about dessert?" Troy suggests, seemingly oblivious to the change in atmosphere as he reaches for the turquoise box from Soft Spot. "Beth said these ones have candied pecans."
Bella smiles but shakes her head. "Maybe in a bit."
She takes another bite of cheese and bread, but I notice her hand trembles slightly. She's trying to act normal, but it's clear she's feeling it already.
"Water?" Savva offers.
"Maybe," Bella murmurs.
Cole immediately reaches for one of the bottles Troy arranged earlier, uncapping it and passing it to her. Their hands brush during the exchange, and I see Bella's breath catch. It's not just a casual reaction. It's her body responding to alpha contact.
She takes a long drink, and I watch a droplet of water escape from the corner of her mouth, trailing down her neck to disappear beneath the collar of her shirt.
My mouth goes dry at the sight.
"Thank you," she murmurs to Cole, her voice lower than before.
I shift uncomfortably, adjusting my position in the nest. The atmosphere has changed, the energy charging with something beyond our usual banter. Even Troy seems to have caught on now, his playful expression growing sober as he watches Bella with increasing focus.
Roman clears his throat. "We should clear some of this away," he suggests, gesturing to the remains of our meal.
"No," Bella says quickly. "Not yet. Let's just... stay like this a little longer."
There's an edge of desperation in her voice that I recognize. She's fighting it, trying to maintain control for as long as possible before surrendering to the heat that clearly has her nerves on edge.
"Whatever you need," I tell her softly.
She meets my gaze, and the vulnerability in her eyes makes my chest ache. "I need you," she whispers. "All of you."
I swallow hard, trying to gulp down the lump in my throat at her words. Holy shit. We're really doing this.
"You have us," Roman assures her, his voice deeper than usual.
She nods, then winces again, pressing a hand to her lower abdomen. "I think... it's happening faster than I expected."
Troy immediately begins gathering the food containers, quick and efficient despite his usual clumsiness. "Let's get this out of the way, then."
"I'll help," Savva offers, collecting wine glasses and plates.
I start to rise, intending to assist them, but Bella's hand shoots out to grasp my wrist. "Stay," she pleads. "I need someone to stay with me."
I settle back down immediately. "I'm not going anywhere, lass."
Cole remains on her other side, silent but watchful. And clearly not going anywhere, either.
Roman helps Savva and Troy carry the remnants of our meal to the door, where Troy takes everything to presumably dispose of in the kitchen. Roman and Savva return to the nest, their expressions rightfully serious.
"How are you feeling?" Roman asks Bella directly.
She lets out a shaky breath. "Hot. And... achy. Like my skin doesn't fit right."
I recognize the description. It's the precursor to the more intense symptoms—the body preparing itself for what's to come.
"It's normal," Savva assures her. "Your body is adjusting to the hormonal changes."
Bella nods, but I can see the tension in her frame. She's scared, despite her brave front. This is her first true full-blown heat, after all, and she's chosen to spend it with five alphas she's known for a relatively short time.
The trust she's placing in us is staggering.
"We can still get the suppressants," I offer, needing her to know she has options. "It's not too late if you've changed your mind."
She shakes her head firmly. "No. I want this. I want you. All of you. I'm just... nervous."
"We'll take care of you," Cole says, his voice rough with emotion. "Won't let anything bad happen."
"I know," she says, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "That's why I chose you."
Troy returns, having disposed of the food containers, and rejoins us in the nest. "All set," he announces, his usual boisterousness subdued.
"Thank you," Bella says, then suddenly gasps, doubling over slightly.
We all instinctively move closer to her.
"Cramps," she explains through gritted teeth. "My doctor said they might be intense since I've been on suppressants for so long."
"Did you talk to her?" I ask.
She nods. "Telehealth." Despite her obvious pain, she grins up at me. "The wonders of modern medicine, huh?"
I chuckle, but it's forced. Hard to find anything funny when she's suffering, even her jokes. "Here," I say, shifting behind her. "Lean back against me."
She does so without hesitation, her back to my chest, her head resting on my shoulder. I bring my hands around to her lower abdomen, applying gentle pressure.
"That's nice," she sighs, relaxing slightly.
Her scent grows stronger as her body relaxes against mine, and I have to focus hard on maintaining control. The caramel sweetness that's become familiar is now laced with heady spice. An incense that calls to my inner alpha, making every muscle in my body go rigid.
And something else, too, if I'm being fucking honest.
Roman moves closer, his careful control visibly slipping as he inhales her scent. "Bella," he says, her name sounding like a prayer on his lips. "We need to be clear about what you want from each of us. Before you're in the full throes of heat."
She nods. "I want... all of you. However you want to... share me."
The way she phrases it makes my heart clench. "This isn't about us sharing you," I tell her firmly. "This is about what you need. You're in control here, Bella. Even during your heat."
"Liam is right," Savva agrees. "We rotate, take breaks if that's what you want. If you want only one of us at a time, or some combination, or all of us—or none of us—you only need to say the word."
She nods again, her body growing hotter against mine. "Thank you."
Troy reaches out to brush a strand of hair from her forehead, his touch gentle. "We've got ya, princess. Whatever you want. Whatever you need."
Bella's breathing quickens, and I feel her heart quickening where her back presses against my chest. She shifts restlessly in my arms, clearly becoming more uncomfortable.
"Maybe I should..." she starts, then trails off, clearly struggling to articulate her thoughts.
"What is it?" Cole asks, direct as always.
"Less clothes," she admits, a nervous laugh escaping her. "I feel like I'm burning up."
"Do you want us to step out while you change?" Roman offers, always considerate.
She shakes her head decisively. "No. Just... help me?"
The request hangs in the air for a moment. Then Cole moves, his scarred hands reaching for the hem of the t-shirt she's wearing—his t-shirt, I realize. She's swimming in it.
"Arms up," he instructs gently.
She complies, lifting her arms as Cole carefully pulls the shirt over her head, revealing her bare torso beneath. She's not wearing a bra, and the sight of her naked from the waist up makes my breath catch.
I avert my eyes, trying to give her some semblance of privacy despite the intimacy of the moment. And despite the fact modesty is about to go down the tubes anyway.
"I want you to look, Liam," she says softly, surprising me.
I meet her gaze first, checking to make sure she means it, before allowing my eyes to travel down. She's beautiful—all soft curves and smooth skin, her breasts heaving slightly with her quick breaths. But it's the trust in her eyes that truly takes away my ability to speak.
"You're… gorgeous," I manage to choke out.
One of her characteristic little smiles tugs at her lips "Even when I'm a sweaty mess?"
"Especially then," Troy cuts in.
She laughs, then gasps as another wave of cramps hits her. Her hands fly to her lower abdomen, pressing against the pain.
"Breathe through it," Roman coaches from beside us. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."
She follows his instructions, her breathing gradually steadying as the wave passes. When she relaxes again, she shifts to remove her leggings, shimmying them down her hips with Cole's assistance.
Now clad only in simple cotton panties, she looks smaller somehow, more vulnerable. But despite her vulnerability, there's a fierceness in her eyes.
This omega knows exactly what she wants.
"Better?" Savva asks, his eyes carefully fixed on her face rather than her newly exposed skin.
"Yes," she sighs, leaning back against me once more. "Though I have a feeling I'll want these off soon too," she adds, gesturing to her underwear.
"All in good time," I murmur against her hair, trying to keep my tone light despite the growing pressure in my own body.
Her scent is becoming overwhelming now, filling the room with honeyed sweetness that calls to my basal alpha nature. It's affecting the others too. Roman's jaw is clenched tight, Cole's one good eye is darkened to nearly black, Troy's usual smile has been replaced with an intensity I rarely see in him, and Savva's composed exterior is cracking like an actual mask.
Bella's body suddenly tenses against mine, a small whimper escaping her throat. "Oh," she gasps, her hand flying to her center. "That's... new."
I don't need to ask what she's feeling. The scent of her arousal spikes sharply, mingling with her heat pheromones to bloom in a perfume that makes my head fucking swim.
I glance up, sharing a look with the other alphas.
It's time.