31. Hailey
Chapter 31
Hailey
T he nest is too soft.
That’s what I keep telling myself as I lie here, staring up at shadows dancing across the ceiling. It’s too soft, too warm, too saturated with their mingled scents. That’s why I can’t sleep. Not because I can hear the gentle splash of water from the bathroom, or the quiet humming that occasionally drifts through the wall.
I shift again, pulling Finn’s borrowed shirt down over my bare thighs. The fabric is impossibly soft, carrying his scent so strongly it makes my head spin. Or maybe that’s just from dinner—from more food than I’ve eaten in months, from laughter I hadn’t known I was capable of anymore.
The memory of Stone’s face when that dumpling hit him makes my lips twitch, even now. The way Ren’s icy exterior had cracked, revealing something warmer underneath. How Jax kept sneaking more food onto both my plate and Finn’s, like he was trying to make up for something.
A particularly loud splash from the bathroom makes me tense. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to picture Finn in there. Trying not to remember how his body felt pressed against mine just hours ago, or the desperate way he’d kissed me. The way his hands had?—
No. Don’t think about that.
I roll onto my side, curling into myself. The blankets shift with me, releasing fresh waves of their combined scents. It’s…confusing. Everything about this is confusing. The alphas letting me stay in their nest. Finn’s hot-and-cold behavior since the bath. The way dinner had felt almost like…
Like family.
The thought makes each breath coming through my lungs feel pressured. I shouldn’t want that. Shouldn’t let myself hope for anything beyond basic safety. But the way they’d laughed together, shared stories, included me in their gentle teasing…
I almost felt…normal.
The bathroom door clicks open.
I go very still, listening to Finn’s soft footsteps on the rug. He pauses—probably checking if I’m asleep—before padding closer. The bed dips as he settles on the far edge, carefully maintaining distance between us.
“I know you’re awake,” he says softly. “Your breathing changes when you actually sleep.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “How do you know that?”
“You fell asleep on me earlier. During the movie.”
Oh. Right. I’d tried so hard to stay awake during whatever film he’d put on after dinner, but the combination of warm food and emotional exhaustion had pulled me under. I remember drifting off to the sound of his heartbeat, my head somehow having found its way to his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I keep falling asleep?—”
“You have every right to. You’re physically and mentally exhausted.” His voice is gentle but firm. “No more apologies. Not for natural things like sleeping or eating or…” He trails off, and I know we’re both thinking about the kiss. Kisses. Plural.
The silence stretches. I can smell his soap, the clean warmth of his skin. But it almost feels like he’s purposely putting distance between us with the way he sits.
“Finn?” I whisper.
“Hmm?”
“Are you…” I swallow hard. “Are you angry with me?”
He’s quiet for so long I start to worry. But then he sighs.
“No, Hailey. I’m not angry with you. Why would I be?”
I swallow hard. “Well, I can think of a few reasons why. I made you fight with your alphas.”
He releases a small laugh. “That wasn’t because of you.” The cushions where he’s sitting shift as he adjusts himself. “They’re not angry at you about that by the way.”
I still can’t understand why.
If it were me, if some stranger came into my home and kissed Finn, I’d be livid. The fact I feel this with such conviction only makes it more unbelievable that Finn’s alphas don’t feel the same.
Aren’t alphas supposed to be jealous, possessive things?
Another silence. I risk rolling over to face Finn, though I can only make out his silhouette in the darkness. He’s sitting cross-legged, head bowed like he’s studying his hands.
“I’m trying to be careful,” he says finally.
“Because of your alphas?”
A soft laugh, but it doesn’t sound happy. “Because of myself.”
I push up onto my elbow, frowning. “I don’t understand.”
“I know.” He runs a hand through his damp hair. “I don’t really understand either. Everything feels…complicated.”
“Because of me?”
“Because of everything.” He turns slightly, and though I can’t see his expression clearly, I feel the weight of his gaze. “You being here, what you’ve been through, what you make me feel…what you make all of us feel…”
I’m not sure I understand. “What do you mean, all of you?”
He’s quiet again, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “Did you notice how they were at dinner? How they tried so hard to make you comfortable?”
“I thought that was for you.”
“Some of it was.” A rustling as he shifts. “But not all of it. They…care. Already. It’s why Ren’s being so prickly—he doesn’t know how to handle caring about someone new. And Stone…you saw how gentle he tried to be. Even Jax…”
He trails off as voices drift up from downstairs—the alphas talking quietly amongst themselves. We both go still, listening, but the words are too muffled to make out.
“I thought alphas only cared about omegas they wanted to…” I can’t finish the sentence.
“To claim?” His voice is soft. “To own? That’s what they taught you at the Academy I suppose.”
I nod, then remember he might not see it in the dark. “Yes.”
“They taught you wrong.” The cushions shift as he moves closer, just slightly. “Alphas can care. Can love. Can want to protect without wanting to possess.”
“Like yours do?”
His scent changes—something bitter threading through the usual sage and rain. “I guess they’re trying. To be better.”
“Better than what?”
“Than they were.” He sighs again. “Than what happened before.”
I want to ask what he means, but something in his tone warns me not to push. Instead, I find myself saying, “They love you very much.”
He inhales then exhales so deeply that it makes his chest swell high then deflate.
“I saw it. At dinner. The way they looked at you when they didn’t know I was watching.”
“Hailey…”
“The way they tried so hard to make you smile. To make things feel normal, even with me there disrupting everything. ”
“You’re not?—”
“And I know I shouldn’t want to stay.” Oh God, I shouldn’t admit this. Because I can’t stay. I’ll have to leave one day. Probably soon. I swallow hard, pushing on. “I know I’m intruding on something private and precious. But dinner was…”
“It was what?” His voice is barely a whisper.
“It was nice.” The admission burns my throat. “Made me feel like maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Maybe I could belong somewhere.” I hurry on, not wanting to make him feel threatened. “Not here. I know I don’t belong here, but maybe somewhere out there.”
The silence that follows is deafening. I want to take the words back, stuff them deep inside where they can’t hurt anyone. But then I feel Finn’s hand brush mine.
“You have no idea how much you already belong here.” His fingers trace my knuckles. “And how I don’t.”
For a split second, his words don’t register. Because they don’t make sense.
“Finn—What?”
“I mean it.” His touch becomes more certain, thumb stroking over my palm. “They meant what they said about you staying. And I…I want you to stay.”
My heart thuds painfully. “Even after I kissed you? After I made everything complicated?”
His hand stills. “You didn’t make anything complicated. Things were already complicated. You just…” He makes a frustrated sound. “You make me feel things I thought I couldn’t feel anymore. Make them feel things they’re afraid to acknowledge.”
“What kind of things?”
Instead of answering, he brings my hand to his face. I feel his breath ghost across my palm, then the press of his lips—soft, barely there.
“Finn?” I whisper, and this time his name comes out like a plea .
“I know.” He releases my hand slowly. “I know we shouldn’t. I know it’s too soon and too much and too dangerous. But…”
“But?”
A quiet laugh. “But I can’t seem to help myself around you.”
The admission hangs between us, heavy with possibility. With warning. With something that feels too big to name.
From downstairs, a door closes. Footsteps on the stairs—multiple sets. Both of us tense, listening as they pass the nest room. They pause, just for a moment, and I catch the faint trace of their scents—Stone’s pine musk, Ren’s sandalwood, Jax’s cedar.
“They’re giving us space,” Finn murmurs once their footsteps continue down the hall. “They won’t…they won’t sleep in here.”
“Oh.” I start to sit up. “I can go back to that other room—” The thought of being alone in that room makes me shudder. But I can do it. Every day I get better.
Finn’s hand catches mine again. “No. Stay. Please.”
“But—”
“They want you to stay.” His voice is soft but certain. “They’re trying to show us both that they…that things can be different.”
I sink back into the blankets, confused. “Different how?”
“Than what I knew before.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Do you trust me?”
The question catches me off guard. “I…yes. I do.”
“Then trust that this—you being here, them giving us space, all of it—it means something. Something good for you…sunshine.”
Sunshine.
The nickname makes something hot and warm spring up in my chest.
From down the hall, I hear a door close. Another. The house settling into nighttime silence.
A shuddering breath breaks the quiet, and I realize with a start that Finn’s shoulders are shaking. He sniffles and I know that sound. The sound of silent tears .
“Finn?” Alarm shoots through me and I reach for him in the darkness. “What’s wrong? Did I—is it something I?—”
“No,” he chokes out. “God, no, Hailey. It’s not you. It’s…” Another shaky breath. “You have no idea how long it’s been since I felt…safe. Like this. With someone.”
The raw honesty in his voice makes something hurt in my chest. I shift closer, my free hand finding his face in the dark. His skin is damp with tears.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for. For making him cry? “Maybe I shouldn’t?—”
“No.” His voice cracks. “Please don’t say you shouldn’t be here. I can’t—” He breaks off, turning his face into my palm. “I need to tell you something,” he says after a moment. “Something important. But I need you to promise me you’ll listen. Really listen.”
I nod. “I’m listening.”
He shifts closer, the mattress dipping under his weight. His scent wraps around me—sage and rain, warm and comforting, but with an edge of something sharper, something that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
“The way you’re feeling right now,” he begins, his voice steady but soft, “the way you feel about me…it might not be entirely real.”
My cheeks warm even though confusion fills me. “How I feel…” I clear my throat.
“I know you feel something,” he whispers. He sniffs again and I get the sense he’s pushing his tears back.
I can’t lie about it. He’s right. I’m silent for a few moments before I decide to face the music.
“I know I shouldn’t…” I murmur.
Finn releases a slow breath. “Because it might not be real.”
I freeze, confusion knotting in my chest. “What do you mean, not real? ”
He hesitates, and I can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back. “You’ve never been in heat before…”
The statement makes my cheeks warm immediately. Heats were something that would only happen after I was bought by my master.
“No,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I haven’t yet.”
The admission makes me feel less than. By omega standards, I’m ancient to have not flowered yet.
Finn’s hand tightens around mine, his touch both reassuring and unsettling. “For omegas, heat is a natural part of our biology. It’s when our bodies are most fertile, most…receptive. But it’s also when our instincts take over. When everything feels more intense. More urgent.”
I swallow hard, my throat dry. “And you think I’m…going into heat?”
“Preheat,” he corrects gently. “It’s the stage before full heat. Your body is preparing itself, and that means your hormones are changing. Your scent is changing. And those changes…they can affect how you feel. How you react to people around you.”
My mind races, trying to process what he’s saying. “So…we kissed…just because of my hormones?”
Finn’s silence is answer enough. I feel a pang of something sharp and painful in my chest, like a knife twisting. The warmth I’d felt earlier—the sense of belonging, of safety—starts to crumble, replaced by a cold, hollow ache.
“It’s not that simple,” he says quickly, as if sensing my distress. “Your feelings aren’t just because of your hormones. But they’re…amplified. Intensified. And I need you to understand that. Because if we…if we let this go too far, it might not be what you really want. Not when the heat passes.”
I pull my hand away from his, curling into myself. The nest feels too big suddenly, too empty, even with Finn sitting right beside me. “So, what are you saying? That I shouldn’t trust myself? That I shouldn’t trust you?”
“No,” he says firmly, his voice cutting through the darkness. “I’m saying you should be careful. That we both should. Because I care about you, Hailey. More than even makes sense. And I don’t want to take advantage of you when you’re not in your right mind.”
His words hang in the air. I can feel the truth in them, the sincerity, but it doesn’t make the ache in my chest any less painful. I want to believe him. I want to trust him. But how can I, when everything I’m feeling feels so real?
“How do you know?” I whisper. “How do you know it’s not real?”
Finn exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Because I’ve been through this before. I know what heat feels like. I know how it twists your thoughts, your desires. And I know how easy it is to get lost in it.”
I bite my lip, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over. I know it’s wrong to want Finn…but it feels real to me.
Finn is very still. For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, slowly, he reaches out, his fingers brushing against my jaw. His touch is so gentle, so tentative, like he’s afraid I’ll pull away.
“Hailey,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “If it’s real… if what you’re feeling is real…then we’ll figure it out. But not like this. Not when you’re not in control.”
His words should comfort me, but they don’t. Instead, they stir a bone-deep anxiety. Pure dread that isn’t bottled up. Dread I can’t control.
For a long moment, Finn doesn’t move. Then, slowly, he leans in, his forehead pressing against mine. His breath is warm against my skin, his scent wrapping around me like a shield.
“Do you feel it right now?” he whispers, voice low and rough. “The heat? Low in your gut? Like a fire you can’t put out?”
The dread gripping me doesn’t intensify. But it also doesn’t drown out the heat he’s talking about. The one that rises within me at just being close to him.
I nod, unable to speak. The heat is there, burning through me, making it impossible to think, to breathe. All I can focus on is Finn—his touch, his scent, the way his body feels so close to mine.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my forehead. “It’s okay to feel it. Just…let me help you.”
Before I can respond, his lips are on mine, soft and insistent. The kiss is sweet. Slow. Like he’s trying to savor every moment. I melt into him, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.
Finn groans softly, his hands sliding down to my waist, holding me steady as the kiss deepens. His tongue brushes against mine, and I moan, the sound muffled against his lips. The heat inside me flares, spreading through my body like wildfire.
“Finn,” I gasp, breaking the kiss. My chest heaves so hard I can’t control it.
“I know,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “I know what you need.”
His hands slide lower, gripping my hips as he slides into the nest and guides me onto his lap. I straddle him, my breath coming in short gasps as I feel the hard length of him pressing against me. The sensation sends a jolt of surprise through me, that makes my hips jerk on their own accord. I can’t help but flush with embarrassment.
Finn’s hands tighten on my hips, holding me still. “Slow down,” he says, his voice strained. “Let me take care of you.”
I nod, my body trembling. Finn’s hands move to the hem of the shirt, lifting it slowly over my head. The cool air hits my skin, making me shiver, but the heat building inside me quickly overpowers it. Finn’s eyes darken as he takes me in, and I realize immediately that this is the first time I’ve been unclothed in his presence. This is different from being naked at the Academy. Completely different. The way Finn’s gaze roams over my body with hunger makes my breath hitch .
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up my sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “So fucking beautiful.”
I whimper, my hips rocking against his again in a movement I can’t seem to control. Finn groans, his hands tightening on my waist as he guides me to move against him. The sensation is overwhelming, pleasure building low in my gut with every roll of my hips.
“That’s it,” Finn murmurs, his voice rough yet tender, lips trailing hot kisses along my shoulder as his hands slide up my sides. “Just like that. Let go, Hailey. I’ve got you.” His fingers pause to trace the curve of my ribs, featherlight and deliberate, before settling at my hips again. But this time, he doesn’t just guide me—he slows my rhythm, his touch firm but patient, teaching me to savor every shift and shudder. “Ease back,” he breathes against my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “Don’t rush it. Use me. Feel me.”
A whimper escapes me as I obey, rocking slower, deeper, his body arching to meet mine. His hands roam my skin like he’s memorizing it—one palm skimming up my spine to tangle in my hair, tilting my head back as his mouth crashes over mine. The kiss is possessive, demanding, but his thumbs sweep gently over my nipples, rolling in slow circles until I gasp into his mouth. “There,” he growls, breaking the kiss to watch me unravel. “That’s how you take what you need. Let it build.”
I tremble, my nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure coils tighter, hotter. Finn’s breath hitches when I grind down harder, his own restraint fraying, but he shakes his head, hands sliding to cup my face. “Look at me,” he rasps. His eyes lock on mine, dark and blazing, as he guides my hips again, our bodies syncing into a rhythm that steals the air from my lungs. “Don’t hide from this. Don’t hide from me .”
The command splinters me. I cry out, my release surging like a storm, but Finn swallows the sound with another searing kiss, his arms banding around me as he murmurs filthy, tender praises against my lips. He doesn’t let go, even as my climax ripples through us both, his hips stuttering beneath mine until he’s panting my name like a prayer.
When the world sharpens again, I’m slumped against him, my forehead pressed to his collarbone. Finn’s fingers trace idle patterns down my back, his heartbeat a wild echo of my own. “Still with me?” he asks, voice hoarse. His lips brush my temple, lingering as if afraid to pull away. “That was so beautiful.”
I nod, clinging to him, my throat tight. The warmth between us feels too vast to name—a fragile, terrifying thing blooming beneath the heat. Finn shifts, rolling us sideways to face each other, his thumb stroking my cheek.
I don’t know how long we stay there, just gazing at each other in the darkness. I just know I don’t want it to end.
But as I drift in the safety of his arms, the shadows at the edges of the room seem to pulse. Finn’s heartbeat thrums steady under my palm, his breath warm in my hair, yet a warning lingers, cold and quiet: This peace is borrowed.
Because Finn is right. This isn’t real. And none of this is mine.