41. Chad
CHAPTER 41
Chad
I glance around the room, feeling the moment settle over me. This is what I wanted, right? A pack. A real one. Something steady. Something that feels like home. But standing here now, with all three of them looking at me like I’m worth sticking around for… yeah, it’s terrifying.
While I decorated the nest today, I envisioned sharing the space with Lakelyn and Mason—of inviting them here and sharing this part of myself. It makes me feel vulnerable. Adding Dean into the mix makes it feel like it’s on another level, like I might be dreaming instead.
Lakelyn’s still tucked against my side, her warmth grounding me, and I’m so grateful she stopped me earlier. If she hadn’t, I’d probably be halfway across the state by now, making every excuse not to face this. I still can’t believe I offered my nest as the place to sleep. My first night in my nest and I’m going to spend it with the three of them.
“So, this is happening, huh?” I blurt out, my voice coming out a little sharper than I meant. “Guess you guys are just gluttons for punishment. Can’t wait for the daily dose of snark that comes with me.” I throw in a smirk, trying to lighten the weight pressing down on my chest.
Lakelyn looks up at me, her smile soft, like she knows exactly what I’m doing and doesn’t mind. Mason’s mouth quirks into a half-grin, and Dean just… watches me, a little too intensely. But none of them pull back. No one looks like they want to bolt.
“Snark’s part of the charm, Pretty Boy,” Mason says, his voice low but with an easy confidence. He crosses his arms and leans back against the wall behind him like he’s completely at ease, like my sarcasm didn’t even faze him. My stomach dips at his nickname, and I swallow, shifting my attention to Dean.
Dean just shrugs, that fire in his eyes simmering low. “We knew what we were signing up for.”
I stare at them for a beat, trying to figure out if they’re being serious. “You sure about that? Because you all seem a little too eager to sign up for this mess,” I say, waving my hand in front of me like I’m some kind of disaster they’re all just too blind to see.
Lakelyn tightens her hold on me, her head resting against my shoulder. “You’re not a mess. And even if you were, we’d still want you.”
It’s so simple, the way she says it. Like it’s a fact, not up for debate. And suddenly, the sarcasm I use to keep people at arm’s length feels a little… pointless.
I try to hold onto it anyway, because being vulnerable with them still feels like standing on the edge of a cliff. “Well, aren’t you all saints?” I mutter, more to myself than to them. “Maybe I’ll go easy on you for the first week. Don’t want to scare you all off.”
“The first week?” Mason’s voice cuts through the tension, his head tilting slightly, all alpha in that way that makes me feel like he can see right through me. Like he caught the slip I didn’t even realize I made.
I roll my eyes, the sarcasm kicking back in as a defense. “Yeah, you know, a trial period. Free returns if I turn out to be too much of a handful.”
Lakelyn laughs softly from beside me, her fingers holding me tighter, and for a second, the knot in my chest loosens. She gets me. She has since that first day. But Mason—he just grins, this slow, confident thing that makes my stomach do an annoying little flip.
“Good thing we’re not interested in returns,” he says, stepping closer, his gaze locked on mine. “You’re ours now.”
I feel my throat tighten, but I manage to keep my smile in place. “Bold of you to assume I’ve agreed to anything.”
Mason just quirks an eyebrow, his grin growing.
Dean doesn’t say a word, but I can feel his stare, the intensity of his presence like a pressure I can’t ignore. He steps in, too, his eyes boring into me like he’s daring me to push back. "You’re staying, Chad. We all know it."
My heart kicks up a beat. He’s right. As much as I want to pretend I have one foot out the door, the truth is... I’m here. I made this choice. But that doesn’t mean I’m not scared out of my mind. Being wanted by them feels too good, too risky, and it’s not something I know how to handle without falling into old habits.
Lakelyn squeezes my hand, pulling me out of my head. “We’re in this together. No running. Not this time.”
The look in her eyes—the warmth, the certainty—pulls at something deep inside me. And Mason and Dean, they’re both standing there, solid and unmoving. Not judging. Not pulling away.
For the first time, I let myself believe that maybe they won’t.
I let out a slow breath. “Alright. But just so you know, I’m still going to be a smartass.”
Maybe if I keep telling them, they won’t be surprised when it’s true.
Mason’s grin widens. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Dean nods, his lips twitching with the faintest hint of a smile. “We like you as you are, Chad.”
The words hit harder than I expected. He likes me— as I am . He actually said that out loud. I stand there thrown for a second, trying to process it. It’s like he’s flipping the script on everything I’ve told myself for years. Every wall I’ve built, every defense, starts to feel… shaky, like his words are a hammer chipping away at the foundation.
I’ve spent so long assuming I wasn’t enough, always too much of something or not enough of another. But here he is, telling me I’m enough. And suddenly, the urge to run, to push them all away before they can do it to me, doesn’t feel like something I want to do.
“Fine,” I mutter, my voice thick with sarcasm because that’s my safety net. “But no complaints when I start driving you all insane.”
Lakelyn giggles, nudging me playfully, while Mason just raises an eyebrow, like he’s already bracing for the ride. But it’s Dean who catches my attention again. He steps in, closer this time, his eyes steady like he’s making a promise.
“You won’t,” he says quietly, his voice unshakable. “ We’re ready .”
The way he says it makes my chest tighten. That certainty—it’s not just words. He means it, and it hits me harder than anything else. I blink, caught off guard, unsure how to respond.
“I hope so,” I mutter, trying to keep my voice casual, but my heart is racing.
The twinkling lights on the ceiling blink down at me as I stir awake. Something must have pulled me from sleep, but now that I’m up, I can’t pinpoint what. Mason’s soft snores fill the quiet, his deep breathing steady on the other side of Lakelyn. The air is thick with the comforting blend of our scents—his warm musk, like marshmallows toasting over a campfire; Dean’s sharp, fresh scent, like a walk through a forest at dawn; Lakelyn’s sweetness, like freshly baked blueberry pie, all mixed together with my own papaya and lime perfume. It’s like we were made to fit together, a perfect melody of smells.
It wraps around me, a blanket of warmth and safety.
As if sensing my thoughts, Dean shifts, pulling me closer even in his sleep. He murmurs something, words lost to dreams, and Lakelyn instinctively snuggles back into me, following the heat of my body. Mason moves too, a subtle shift as if none of us can bear to be apart, even unconscious.
Is this what it means to be a scent-bound pack?
Dean shifts again behind me, his arm tightening around my waist, pulling me even closer to him. The warmth of his body presses against mine, his breath soft and steady as it brushes my neck. In his sleep, he nuzzles into me, lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below my ear. It’s gentle, barely there, but it sends a shock through me—a pure, bright sensation that shoots straight down into my stomach.
My breath catches. I know what this feeling is. I can’t pretend not to. The slow, familiar warmth pooling low in my abdomen tells me my heat is beginning to stir, like the first flicker of a flame. It’s not in full force yet, but I feel it creeping in, a slow, pulsing ache that spreads through my body.
Dean murmurs again in his sleep, his lips still at my neck, pressing soft, barely-there kisses that only intensify the heat building inside me. The problem is... he’s not even awake. He has no idea what he's doing or how he’s making me feel. It’s not like he's trying to provoke this—it’s just him in his most unguarded state. And maybe that’s why it hits me so hard, why the need I’ve been suppressing surges up so sharply.
My heat isn’t something I can control. I know that. I’ve always known that. It’s the one thing about being an omega that I can’t shut off with sarcasm or walls. It comes when it wants, and when it does, it consumes everything. No matter how much I try to push it down, need will rise up and take over, turning me into something mindless, desperate.
Like that first time. I’ve never allowed myself to get that needy again. Always checking myself into heat clinics to ride it out with a random alpha who volunteered.
I have to get out of here.
My perfume blooms, seeping out of me at the same time slick starts to coat my ass. And my cock strains against my sweats.
Dean’s lips graze my neck again, and the ache in my stomach sharpens. My breath comes in shallow pants as heat spreads, making my skin prickle and my muscles tense. It’s too much—if I don’t move now, I won’t be able to stop myself. And the last thing I want is to lose control with all of them tangled around me, still asleep, unaware of the storm brewing inside me.
I need to get away.
Carefully, I begin to untangle myself from the pile of bodies. Lakelyn’s arm is draped over my chest, her warmth pressing into my side, and Mason’s heavy leg is thrown over both of us as if, even in sleep, none of them can bear to be too far from me. Dean’s hold tightens for a second, like he senses me slipping away, but I gently ease his arm off me and slide out from under the covers, careful not to wake them.
My heart races as I step out of the nest and into the cool air of my empty house. My heat flares at the sudden loss of their warmth, a sharp contrast to the dark, quiet space around me. It feels vast and hollow without them, without the safety of their presence, but I push forward, forcing myself to put distance between us.
I stumble into the hallway, leaning against the wall as need claws at me, relentless and demanding. My whole body feels like it’s burning from the inside out, and I press my palm to my stomach, trying to steady myself, but it’s no use. My heat is here, and it’s only going to get worse.
I grit my teeth, breathing hard. Only alphas can ease it. That’s the truth of it. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t make this go away on my own. But I’m not ready for that yet. Not ready to ask for what I need. Not ready to submit, not when everything inside me is screaming to run, to hide.
I make my way downstairs, the shadows pressing in, closing around me like they know what’s coming—like they’re taunting me. The emptiness of the house is suffocating, even though I should find some peace in it. It’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart and running back upstairs, begging for something I know they’d give. They’d claim me, just like I want. But then, what would that mean? They’d be stuck with me, tied to me because of some primal need, and I can’t be sure if that’s what they want.
My skin burns, a fire that’s spreading faster than I can control, and I stumble into the kitchen, yanking open the freezer and pulling out the full ice tray. I clutch it in my shaking hands, making my way to the downstairs bathroom. Maybe if I cool myself down—maybe if I can stop my heat before it fully takes over—then I can keep from completely losing it.
The cold water feels like salvation as I turn on the tap and start to fill the bathtub. It’s not enough. I dump the ice in, watching the cubes float for a moment before I climb in fully clothed, sinking into the freezing water. The shock hits me like a wall, the cold biting at my skin, but it’s a welcome relief to the raging fire coursing through me.
I submerge myself, letting the icy water seep into my clothes, my hair, my skin. My body trembles, but the burning inside me is relentless. I can’t think, can’t focus. Time becomes a blur as it gnaws at me, the water doing little to slow it down. My mind drifts, slipping in and out of rational thought, my omega instincts taking over completely, driving me with overwhelming need.
I don’t know how long I’ve been in the water when I feel a strong hand on my arm, pulling me up. I gasp for air as I surface, water streaming down my face and body. Dean. His face is tight with worry, his eyes dark with something I can’t name. “What the hell are you doing, Chad?” he mutters, his voice rough, tugging me out of the tub with more force than I expect.
I shiver uncontrollably as he pulls me to my feet, my clothes soaked and clinging to my skin, the icy water dripping down onto the tile. "You're freezing," he growls, more angry than I’ve ever heard him, but beneath it, there’s a thread of something else. Something that makes my breath catch in my throat.
Dean doesn’t waste time. He strips me of my wet clothes, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it to the floor. I’m shaking so badly that I can barely stand as he works my pants off, leaving me bare and exposed. He kneels between my legs. His hands are firm, but when his eyes flick over me, they darken, and his breathing changes—sharp, almost ragged.
My body betrays me in the worst possible way, the need that’s been building inside me roaring to the surface as soon as I’m naked. I’m rock hard, my arousal undeniable, and I can feel the pulse of it in every inch of my body, every nerve lit up with pure, aching want.
Dean’s gaze locks onto me, his nostrils flaring as he inhales. My perfume’s heavy in the room. His senses hone in on the raw, unfiltered need radiating off me, and something in him snaps. He leans forward, his breath hot against my skin, his lips brushing against the place where my arousal throbs.
I gasp, my whole body jolting at the contact, a moan escaping before I can stop it. Dean’s mouth hovers there for a second as if he's fighting against himself, but then he gives in—just for a moment—and he dares to taste me. His tongue flicks over my length, the sensation sending white-hot pleasure shooting through me. He runs it over my slit, tasting the slick forming on my tip. I groan, my head falling back, completely lost in the feeling.
The pleasure is overwhelming, tearing through me like a storm. I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel as Dean’s mouth works over me with a hunger that sets every nerve in my body on fire. My fingers tighten in his hair, my hips bucking forward of their own accord. I’m so close to losing control, so close to giving in completely.
“Dean,” I gasp loudly, my voice trembling, a plea caught somewhere between desperation and surrender.
His response is a deep, possessive growl vibrating against me, and the sound nearly sends me over the edge. It’s too much—too intense—but I can’t stop. My whole body aches with need, my heat rising faster than I can keep up with. I’m teetering on the brink, ready to let go completely when?—
A dull thud fills the air.
Dean’s head jerks violently, and the next thing I know, he’s crumpling to the floor, collapsing at my feet. I fall back in shock, my legs shaking as my heart slams into my chest. I’m too disoriented to process what’s happening, the sudden cold rush of confusion freezing me in place.
And then I see her.
Jenny, standing over Dean’s fallen body, with a twisted, satisfied grin on her face. In her hand, a heavy object—one of my kitchen pans, I think—gleams under the dim light. I can barely register what I’m seeing. My mind struggles to catch up, my body still on fire with unsatisfied need while fear and anger flood my veins.