Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mia
The door clicks shut behind them.
It’s such a small sound. Just the latch catching, the quiet seal of wood on frame. But the second it happens, something inside me drops.
Out there were burst pipes, property manager notes, HOA emails, my empty house and my stupid app insisting HEAT DUE IN: 12 DAYS.
But in here there is warm lamplight. Blankets and pillows spilling like a tide. The low hum of servers through the wall. The thick weight of their scent soaked into everything. And four men standing at the edge of the nest, looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world.
My brain goes quiet. No more lists. No more rules.
I’m curled in the center of their nest in a sweat-damp hoodie, hair a frizzy disaster, thighs pressed together around a heat slick that is building so fast, it’s making me dizzy. My scent is so thick in the air I could chew it. They’re all still mostly dressed, towering over the bed.
But they aren’t looking at me like neighbors anymore.
Knox’s jaw is locked tight enough to snap. Declan is watching my chest rise and fall with dilated, black-hole eyes. Rhys has his hands gripped into fists at his sides, knuckles white, like he’s physically stopping himself from pouncing.
My mouth waters. My omega screams finally.
Eli moves first. He sinks down to one knee beside the nest so he’s level with me, palms braced on the edge of the mattress like he’s not willing to come any closer until I pull him.
My breath stutters.
“Mia,” he says quietly.
His voice is lower than usual, rough, but his gaze is clear, steady, focused. All that solid beta attention on me.
“You’re safe,” he tells me, simple as a fact. “You’re here, in our nest. We’re going to take care of you. All you have to do is let us.”
Something behind my ribs comes apart with a small, desperate sound.
“Come here,” I whisper.
I’m not even sure who I mean, but it doesn’t matter. They all move.
Eli’s hand is first, big and warm and careful as he slides his palm along my shin, up over my knee, to rest on my thigh. He squeezes, just once.
“Too hot?” he asks, voice a rasp.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Too everything.”
Declan lets out something like a strangled laugh. “We can help with that, love.”
He crawls onto the nest on my right, like he’s giving me all the time in the world to change my mind. He stops within reach but not touching, eyes searching my face.
“Tell us if it’s too much,” he says. “At any point. You say no, we stop. You push us away, we back off. No questions.”
My throat is too tight to speak, so I nod hard. “I— I’ll tell you.”
He exhales, relief flickering over his features. “Good girl.”
My omega preens, pushing up under my skin. Mine, she hums. Ours.
Knox steps forward, cockiness stripped down to something fierce and intent. “Sweetheart,” he says, and the softness on the word nearly buckles my knees even though I’m lying down. “You smell like you’re dying.”
“I feel like I am,” I choke out. A laugh bubbles up under it, hysterical. “In a…horny way.”
That pulls a short, rough laugh from all of them, and the tension flickers for a second.
Rhys climbs onto the nest last, moving like a big, dangerous animal, slow and sure. He ends up near my feet, kneeling between my shins, broad hands braced on his thighs as he looks me over.
His gaze drags from my flushed face down my body, lingering on the bare strip of skin at my waist where the hoodie’s ridden up. He drags in a deep breath through his nose and his eyes flicker.
“Fuck,” he says softly.
Heat crawls up my neck. The air feels too thick to pull in properly.
“Take it off,” I whisper, shoving weakly at the hoodie. “Please, I’m— it feels like it’s burning me.”
Declan is there instantly, fingers brushing mine. “Let me,” he murmurs.
I let my hands fall.
He catches the hem of the hoodie and the t-shirt beneath it, knuckles grazing my overheated stomach as he peels them both upward. Every inch dragging over my skin feels like too much and not enough. I lift my arms without thinking about it, trusting, and he peels it off over my head.
I’m left in my bra, soaked through with sweat and scent, the thin fabric doing absolutely nothing. Rhys lets out another low, harsh sound. Knox’s breath stutters. “Oh, fuck,” he whispers.
Their eyes on me should make me want to curl in on myself. Instead, my back arches minutely, chest lifting toward them. Power coils under the embarrassment; I can feel the way my body affects them.
I’m in a sweat-damp bra and plain cotton panties now. Nothing pretty. Nothing planned.
Judging by their faces, it does not matter even a little.
The cool air on my legs is a jolt, almost shocking. I make a small, reflexive sound, toes curling into the blankets.
“Fuck, Mia,” Declan breathes, eyes roaming slowly.
I clench my thighs together, chasing a flicker of friction I am rapidly losing the ability to be subtle about. Knox notices. He comes up onto the nest, moving to the foot of the bed, and gently puts his hands on my calves.
“Open for us, sunshine,” he says softly. “Just a little.”
Heat flares between my ribs at the pet name. My thighs tremble as I obey, letting my knees fall apart in the nest of blankets.
Cool air hits the damp heat between my legs; I shiver, a helpless little tremor.
The way their collective scent spikes in response almost undoes me.
“Mia,” Rhys grits out, voice deep and dangerous. “You sure?”
I meet his gaze. Everything in me, shaking, hungry, tired to the bone of holding myself together, tips toward him like gravity.
“Yes,” I say. My voice comes out wrecked and honest. “I want this. I want you.”
Knox inhales sharply. Declan closes his eyes briefly like he’s praying. Eli’s jaw flexes.
Rhys’s control frays around the edges.
“Okay,” he says. One simple word. It lands like a promise.
His hand slides up the inside of my left thigh, big palm hot and rough, thumb rubbing slow circles in the tender skin there. Close enough to where I’m aching that my hips try to chase it.
He smiles, a sharp, fleeting thing, and pulls back.
Sadist, my omega hisses, but she’s purring.
“Too many clothes,” Knox mutters suddenly, restless. “On you. On us.”
“Fix it, then,” I blurt, desperate. “Please.”
That’s all the permission they need.
Eli’s fingers hook into the band of my bra. “Arms,” he says gently.
I obey, lifting them again. The bra is so soaked it sticks; the fabric pulls at my skin before it gives. His knuckles graze the sides of my breasts as he works it up, and I shudder.
The second they’re free, air hits my bare skin and my nipples tighten almost painfully. Knox makes a strangled noise that might be his soul leaving his body.
“Fuck,” he says again, reverent and wrecked.
Rhys goes very, very still.
His gaze drops to my chest, and for a second his expression goes entirely feral. The muscle in his jaw ticks, his throat working on a hard swallow. He looks like a man remembering every promise he made himself about control and very seriously considering breaking them.
I am shaking now, from heat and want and the sheer focus of their attention.
My panties are the last barrier. The cotton is soaked, clinging between my legs.
Declan’s eyes drop to the wet patch, then back up to my face. “Can we?” he asks quietly.
The fact that he’s asking for permission to take off underwear with the way I’m already spread out in their nest makes something in me twist in on itself.
“Yes,” I breathe. “They’re driving me insane.”
He slides his fingers under the waistband, knuckles grazing my hips. “Lift for me, love.”
I do. He peels them down slowly, dragging the damp strip of cotton over too-sensitive skin.
The second my panties clear my thighs, my scent hits the room full-force.
If it was thick before, it’s choking now. Sweet and ripe and sticky, strawberries cooked down in sugar and heat, laced with sharp, wild want. It rolls off me, curls into every crevice of the nest, slams into their lungs.
All four men react like they’ve been physically struck.
Rhys’s hands slam into fists on his thighs, tendons standing out stark in his forearms. A low, animal growl rumbles up from his chest before he grits his teeth against it.
Knox’s pupils blow so wide they all but swallow the slate. His fingers tighten on my calves, the line of his throat working as he swallows, once, twice.
Declan’s scent spikes, edges going darker, richer, his breath coming faster. “Holy fuck,” he whispers. “Mia.”
Eli’s nostrils flare, his usually light eyes darkening. I can see his shoulders pull back like he’s steadying himself against the intensity of it.
For one suspended second, no one moves. Then I reach out without thinking.
My fingers catch a fistful of Rhys’s t-shirt and I yank.
He goes willingly, leaning over me, one braced hand beside my head, the other catching my hip to steady himself.
His face is so close now, shadow and heat and the sharp lines of his cheekbones. His eyes are burning.
Weeks ago, I stood on his porch demanding quiet.
Now I’m about to beg him to ruin me.
“You said,” I gasp, the words scraping out of me, “you’d take it from the source.”
His breath stutters. “Mia—”
“So take,” I whisper, and then I close the distance, surging up and crashing my mouth into his.
Whatever shreds of restraint he had left snap.
He kisses me back like he’s starving.
His mouth is hot and fierce, lips moving over mine with rough, demanding hunger. He licks into me with a groan, tongue sliding past my lips to taste, to take. My fingers claw at his shirt, pulling him closer, closer, like I could drag him under my skin.
He tastes like espresso and something darker, richer. Like everything I’ve been trying not to want.
The nest shifts. Rhys breaks the kiss, breathless, and slides his large frame to my side, propping himself up on one elbow so he can still loom over me without blocking the way.
It leaves me open. Exposed.