Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
DARIA
Time has never slipped by as quickly as it does when I’m with the guys. The ease with which we fall into living together is almost scary. Before I know it, two weeks have passed. Work is torture—pretending I don’t notice when Kai or Linc walks by is easier said than done. Vic even makes appearances, which, from everything I’ve heard, is unusual.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know why he’s suddenly taken a renewed interest in Good Vibes.
He comes to see me. And it’s the sweetest, simplest gesture that puts a goofy smile on my face every time I catch traces of his scent in the office.
Anytime my pack is near, my body lights up with awareness, as if they’re a black hole set to consume the entire universe, and I’m simply a planet desperately trying to escape the pull. But it’s impossible, and more than once, I find myself caged in their arms in some random closet, mouth and body ravished.
Even wearing Vic’s collar has become natural. I take it off to sleep and shower, and that’s it. Otherwise, it’s clasped around my neck because it’s part of what makes me pack.
To say I’m delirious with happiness is an understatement.
So, it comes as no surprise to me that I find myself seeking a midnight snack, body demanding nourishment in preparation for my heat. I’ve gone through it enough times to notice the warning signs. The little fits of grumpiness when I have to wait thirty seconds for coffee. The way I can’t help burying my nose against their throats as soon as everyone is home and we no longer have to pretend like I’m just another employee.
I grab a tub of edible cookie dough and make my way toward my nest.
My treat is sweet, with hints of saltiness—everything I’m craving. I should definitely drink water after. Staying hydrated during a heat is the hardest part, especially when you go through it alone, but with my pack, I doubt I’ll have to worry as much as I did when it happened while I was alone. They’ll be there, with enough sense of mind to make me drink water.
Nudging the door to my nest open, I release a soft sigh and shove another spoonful of dough bites into my mouth, cheeks puffy as I admire my handiwork. I still feel guilty about using the pack’s money, but even I have to admit this is a hell of a lot better than an air mattress.
The walls are now a dark burgundy, with bundles of twinkle lights wrapped around the top like crown molding. I flip the light switch, and they emit a soft, golden glow. Two shelves on either side of the bed hold essential supplies. Towels. Snacks. Wet wipes. Water. Various toys the guys thought I might like. A vibrator with a knot at the bottom for when they’re too tired to keep up with my demands. A tentacle-shaped dildo—because why not?—nipple clamps, a butt plug.
The guys were almost worse than me when it came to picking out things for the nest, always suggesting something more expensive or luxurious than what I originally planned. But honestly? They gave me permission to build my dream nest. The fantasy I’ve been building every time Quinn and I got together to scrapbook ideas. This space is everything I’ve ever wanted.
The best part, though? The velvet, dark-green drapes that create a canopy of sorts over the California king, leaving a seventy-two-inch opening at the end of the bed. The bed itself is one of the best money can buy, the mattress soft yet a little firm at the same time—a perfect combination that everyone enjoys. The four-poster, dark-stained wooden frame is as sturdy as they come. Elegant. Built for fucking.
I head to climb into the nest with my treat, running the pads of my feet through the plush rug that’s covering the floor now and humming in approval. I crawl through the entrance, spoon stuck in my mouth and one hand clutching the tub of cookie dough like my life depends on not dropping it. Inside, the canopy goes as high as the ten-foot ceiling, and the bed is so big it actually feels like a tent. A dim light hangs over the middle of the bed, where the velvet drapes bunch around the canopy ring, emitting the perfect touch of light. Enough that I’m not in total darkness.
Sitting crisscross, I wiggle my shoulders and take another bite, glancing around, counting my pillows and hoarded—stolen—shirts, plush blankets, and the small fans fastened to the top of each post, a much-needed amenity. Almost everything is essential. Honestly, the blankets are for the worst of my pre- and post-heat, because nobody is trying to be wrapped in a blanket when the fever of need hits. When that happens, the bulk of blankets will be stripped away, leaving only the soft sheets covering the slick-proof mattress protector.
Breathing in, I bask in the spice, musk, and citrus of my pack’s scent, more than happy the guys didn’t take their things back.
Someone clears their throat right as I’m taking another bite, and I freeze with my spoon in my mouth, eyes wide, like I’ve been caught doing something naughty.
Linc appears at the opening, crouching to peek inside with a wicked smirk on his face. “Whatcha doing, bunny?”
“Nomfing,” I say around a mouthful.
He chuckles. “You’re nesting.” Not a question.
A fact.
It’s not like it’s a big secret.
I nod and tip my head, sticking my spoon into the tub and offering it to him. His smile makes my chest clench, and he accepts my gift, scooping a spoonful and eating it while he watches me. His pleased hum has my lips tugging back.
“Do you want to come out?”
And leave the safety of my nest? Hell, no.
I shake my head, and he gestures for me to move over. “I’m coming in.”
Lincoln makes his way over to me and carefully brings the cookie dough along with him. Smart alpha. Once he’s upon me, he brushes his lips over mine and licks the edge of my mouth. “You had some chocolate,” he murmurs when he pulls back.
My body is flushed, but I’m not silly enough to let him distract me and steal my snack. I snatch the container from him as he settles beside me, clutching it to my chest and narrowing my eyes.
“I’m not going to take your treats, bunny,” he says with a chuckle. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“I was hungry.”
Humming, he flops onto his back and rolls onto his side, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his forehead against my back. “I couldn’t sleep, either.”
I glance down at him. “Why?”
He shrugs. “Sometimes my brain is an asshole. I was going to my studio but could scent your trail heading to the nest. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m okay.” I take another bite and smile softly at him. “Better now that you’re here.”
Squeezing me tighter, he simply clings to my body as I finish my snack, fingers gently running over my stomach and sides, caressing the curves like they’re something sacred. I set the tub between my legs and smooth my fingers through his loose hair. Unlike my curls, his dark brown strands are tangle free.
“Why is your brain an asshole?”
He sighs, air rushing over the small of my back. “So many reasons,” he says. “Everything will be going great, and then it’s like hey, don’t forget about this horrible memory from your childhood .”
“Ugh, I know that feeling. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Long story short. My parents were filthy rich, had a kid because that’s what was expected, only they were never around. I knew the nanny and the cook better than I knew my own blood.”
I smooth my fingers through his hair again. “I’m sorry. That’s shitty.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, it really is. I mean, I know I’m lucky to have had money and a house to live in and the opportunities I had. Sometimes I wish I could have had parents who gave a shit instead.”
Frowning, I think about my own mom. My dads are great. But Mom? “My mom left us when I was little. She ran away with some pack that was into bad shit, and everything spiraled from there. I feel like I remember her being nice, loving me and caring, but sometimes I wonder if I imagined it? She’s pretty terrible now.” I laugh, though nothing is particularly funny; it’s just a reaction to try to make light of something that cuts deep.
“Do you see her a lot?”
I glance away. “Only because my little brother, Marco, still lives with her. Otherwise, I don’t think I’d even try.”
“How old is he?”
“Fourteen.”
“Well, he has the best big sister in the whole world.”
“You’re only saying that because you like my vagina.”
“Don’t be silly, bunny. I like your mouth too.”
I giggle and shove his shoulder. “You’re such a jerk.”
“But you love me.”
“Maybe,” I confess, then suck in a breath. “Oh shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.” Moving too fast has always gotten me into trouble before. Scent matches or not, I should know better than to go around professing my love.
Linc pushes off the bed, kneeling in front of me and holding my stare. “So, you don’t love me?”
“Um...” I trail off. Experience is telling me it’s way too soon to say these sorts of things, but the time I’ve spent with this pack has been life changing. It’s like we’ve known each other our whole lives. And fate says it was always meant to be. Fuck it. I’m not going to be scared to have a heart. “I think I might?”
The smile that breaks across his face steals my breath, then his hands are on either side of my face, and his lips claim mine in a deep, hungry kiss. I desperately try to answer the demands of his tongue, but Lincoln is in control right now, so I let go, let him taste every inch of my mouth until we’re forced to break apart to breathe.
“Wow,” I whisper.
“I think I might love you too,” he admits, kissing me again. “Can I show you something?”
“Always.”
Smirking, he plucks the tub from between my legs and grabs my hand with the other, drawing me out of the nest. We stop by the kitchen to discard the trash, then he leads me to the other end of the house, which holds the gym, spa, a library, and his studio.
I’ve been dying to go inside, but I wanted to be respectful of his space, so I’ve been waiting for permission. He glances back at me as he reaches for the doorknob, and a little thrill of excitement rushes through me.
“I don’t let just anyone in here,” he says, holding my gaze. “But you’re not just anyone.” Opening the door with a flourish, he tugs me inside his art studio, which smells faintly of paint and chemicals. There are a few special vents on the ceiling to help clean the air, but the scent that lingers is from the colors clinging to canvases.
“Wow,” I whisper as I take it all in.
There are stacks of completed pieces leaning next to a slotted canvas holder, which is also full. A five-foot canvas faces away from me, the massive frame held up by the biggest easel I’ve ever seen.
Lincoln sets the light dimmer in the middle, lighting the room but not exposing my sensitive eyes to the full wattage he needs while painting. The brightness between this room and mine is a stark contrast. He needs the light to work. Even the energy is different. While my nest is comforting, the air in Lincoln’s art studio practically buzzes with excitement, the limitless possibilities of creation.
There are a few pieces hanging on the wall. Lincoln’s art is abstract, but that doesn’t mean it’s a meaningless mess of color. There’s a piece where he’s combined the paint in ways that depict a desert landscape, if you let your imagination put the lines together. Another piece looks like a rainy forest in the middle of the fall. But my favorite of those I can see is what looks like a person—a sensual sweep of colors, creating the seductive curve of hips and breasts I recognize.
“When did you paint that?” I ask, rushing over to it and smoothing my fingers over the paint textures.
“The other night, while you were fast asleep between Kai and Vic.”
“It’s me.” I glance at him for confirmation, and he nods. “You painted me?”
“Do you like it?”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say.” I turn to him and close the distance between us with three purposeful strides. “Lincoln Abernathy Donahue, I fucking love it. I’m flattered beyond belief, and I just—” I search his face, shaking my head. “Do you realize how amazing you are?”
He smirks. “Actually, yes.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “You’re a butthead.”
“And you’re a brat.” He grabs me and pulls me flush against his body. “I’m glad you like it.”
“How could I not?”
“Some people don’t understand.” He quickly glances away. “I have some pieces in galleries, and I’ve had a few shows.”
“That’s so cool.”
He frowns, looking anything but happy. “It is, but sending it out into the world means people are comfortable criticizing it, even to my face.”
I nod in understanding, touching his arm. “Do you want me to kick their ass?”
“Think you could take them?” he asks with a grin.
“Definitely not, but I’ll try to defend your honor.”
His laugh fills my body with warmth. “While I appreciate the gesture, I think I’ll survive the criticism. This type of art isn’t for everyone. I only wish people wouldn’t go out of their way to email me about how much they hate it.”
“That’s disgusting behavior.” I wrap my arms around his neck and go onto my toes, dropping a kiss on his lips. “I love your art. You’re so talented.”
He gives me a bashful look. “Thanks, bunny.”
“Any time, big guy. Now, take me back to the pack, I need some snuggles.”
He scoops me up. “So demanding.”
“I know,” I say with a soft sigh.
As he carries me up to the bedroom, I tell him all the ways I love his work and the painting he did of me because he deserves to hear the praise. He deserves to know he’s amazing. My alpha—my pack—deserves love.
And it’s my mission to give them every drop I have to give.