Chapter 50
Lincoln
Bayleigh’s heat is still somewhere on the horizon, close enough that her scent has begun to bloom in a way that feels new, warm, and dangerously sweet.
It curls around the room whenever she walks through it and lingers on whatever surface she touches.
It’s not overwhelming yet, but it is unmistakable.
Her body is preparing, and all three of us feel the shift like an invisible hand pressing between our shoulder blades, guiding us toward her without conscious thought.
I try to breathe normally. I try to keep my instincts where they belong.
I repeat that to myself as I guide her to the nest we spent all afternoon creating, but my body doesn’t entirely listen.
Instinct is louder tonight than reason. Instinct tells me she needs us close, and every time she exhales, I feel that truth playing out in the air between us.
The room is warm, the way she likes it. The blankets form a kind of soft terrain that dips in the middle and rises at the edges, a safe space built by four sets of hands.
The lights are low, more golden than white.
The whole space looks different now, as though we peeled the bones of my room away and rebuilt something made entirely for her.
She steps inside and hesitates, just for a second. Her hand lifts like she might touch the doorway for balance. Then she smiles, small and vulnerable, the kind of smile she gives when she’s trying not to cry.Something in my chest pulls tight at the sight of her like this.
“Come on.” I hold my hand out to her as I pat the nest, and she climbs in.
Milton slides in beside her first, his arm resting along the pillows behind her.
Korbin settles on the other side. I take my place at her back, drawing her back against my chest. Her leg brushes mine, her head against my shoulder, and the small point of contact sends a warm flicker through my stomach.
She shifts again, just slightly, like she’s testing how close she’s allowed to be. I lean a fraction closer, letting the reassurance come from my body instead of my words. Her breath catches softly, warming the air against my neck.
You comfortable? I sign, moving my hands in front of her body.
She nods without looking at me. A little nervous.
I smile and lift her just enough to settle her sideways on one of my thighs, close but not fully straddling me. It lets me lean around to catch her expression, and lets Korbin and Milton see her face too. “You don’t need to be nervous with us.”
Milton nudges her leg playfully. “Especially not when we’re behaving ourselves.”
She rolls her eyes and signs while she speaks. You’re never behaving.
Milton clutches his heart like she stabbed him. “That is slander.”
Her laugh is bright, her shoulders shaking against my chest. The sound does something to me, and I clamp down every instinct and thought to mark her right now.
Korbin finally speaks, eyes trained on her. “If you’re nervous, we can put more space between us.”
She looks at him, confused. “Why would I want that?”
He shrugs, mouth twitching. “You get… overwhelmed sometimes.”
Her expression softens. She adjusts her legs so one rests over his ankle and signs deliberately, This is good. I like this.
“She said,” I start to translate, but my brother cuts me off.
“I know what she said. I’ve been studying.” He looks away like he’s pretending that it’s not a big deal.
“You’re studying…for me?” Bayleigh asks.
Korbin nods once. “Yeah. I’m not as good as Lincoln is, but I will be. I want to be able to talk to you whether that’s in English, lip reading, ASL, or gibberish.”
She lunges from my lap and pounces on him smothering his face in kisses.
I swallow, my throat tight, overwhelmed that she makes my little brother happy and he, her. I tap her on the shoulder to get her attention. When she looks at me, I say. “You can lean on me.” I brush my thumb along her hip. “I’ve got you.”
Bayleigh sits up and faces the TV, cuddled between Korbin and me. The show plays, but she’s paying more attention to our hands than the screen. Korbin’s around her waist. Mine resting lightly on her arm. Milton’s against her calf.
Her scent lifts slowly, not heat yet but the beginning of something approaching. Milton notices first. His nostrils flare. His body goes still in that familiar, instinctive way predators freeze when something important is happening.
He glances at me.
I give a small shake of my head. She’s safe. She's just responding to touch.
Bayleigh looks between us and signs quickly, Am I doing something wrong?
“No,” I say immediately. “Everything you’re doing is right.”
She blushes again and leans closer. “I’m trying.”
“You don’t need to try,” I reply, cupping her jaw gently so she sees the truth in my face. “You just have to be here.”
She presses her lips together in a trembling smile, then nestles more firmly against my side. Her fingers slip under the edge of my shirt, resting shyly against my stomach. The touch is small, tentative, but it hits me square in my chest and my dick. Hard.
Milton clears his throat, attempting to be casual but failing miserably. “Want a blanket? You look cold.”
She shakes her head and signs, Warm.
He snorts and signs as he talks. “I bet.”
She kicks him lightly. He catches her foot without thinking and holds it, thumb brushing along her heel in a way I know he does not realize he is doing.
Her scent flares again.
Every nerve in me lights up like a struck wire.
“Relax,” I tell her. “You’re safe with us.”
Her eyes flutter closed. She leans her forehead against my shoulder, trusting me to hold all her weight. When she finally exhales, it feels like she’s handing me something delicate and important.
“Lincoln,” she sighs. “I… like this.”
I lift my right hand so she can see it in her peripheral vision. She turns her head, and I sign with one hand, making each motion clear for her. I know, we like it too.
Milton looks up at her. “Yeah. More than we should probably admit out loud.”
Korbin smirks. “Speak for yourself.”
She looks at all three of us—really looks—and her expression shifts to something soft, warm, and unbearably vulnerable.
She signs two small sentences.
I feel safe with you. With all of you.
The room stills. Her scent shifts, sweetening in a way I have only ever smelled once in my life—on an omega right before her heat blooms. It is warm honey threaded with mint and something softer that is uniquely her.
Something inside my chest roots deeper, stronger, steadier than instinct alone.
“Good,” I tell her. “Because we’re not going anywhere.”
She exhales, and I swear the sound melts into my bones. Her body softens the way prey animals soften when they decide the predator isn’t going to eat them. Except there’s no fear here. Only trust.
Her scent spreads further, thicker, syrupy at the edges, like warm sugar.
I swallow it down and force myself not to tense. Tonight is not about losing control. Tonight is about anchoring her so she goes into heat knowing she’s good on all fronts.
Milton shifts, sliding up along her side so he’s crowding in next to her like a cuddle pile. He leans into her enough that his cheek brushes her temple. A scent-mark meant to reassure and nothing else. She sighs and melts into him before her body settles back against mine.
Korbin does the same from her other side. His jaw grazes her shoulder in a slow, restrained sweep. Not claiming or territorial. Just a quiet promise that he’s here.
Her breath hitches in that small, surprised way she gets when something feels good.
I lower my head and press a kiss into her hairline. It’s light, barely there, but she shivers and her fingers curl around my shirt.
Her scent thickens as she curls deeper into me, her forehead tucked under my chin, and something inside of me settles so completely I don’t recognize myself for a moment.
She smells like home.
Not my room.
Not the nest.
Her.
She shifts once, twice, then goes still, her breathing slowing into that deep, slow sound that tells me she’s asleep. Milton covers her with a blanket without being asked, draping it over her shoulders.
None of us speak. We don’t need to.
Her scent wraps around us, twirling with ours until the air feels heavy with citrus and mint and sandalwood and heat-sweet omega. It’s not sexual or even romantic. It's a pack.
The show plays on the screen, but none of us are watching. Every breath she takes feels like a vow.
I look at her, then at my brothers. Milton has gone soft in the eyes; Korbin looks like someone handed him something breakable and made him promise not to break it.
This is our omega.
Our pack and future.
When I finally reach out to adjust the blanket again, tucking it around her legs so she stays warm, the realization settles into my chest.
Tonight is the night we became a pack in every way that matters.