Chapter Thirty-Three
Emery
The first thing I register is warmth.
Then arms.
Lots of arms.
And movement.
I blink slowly, dazed and heavy-limbed and drifting, the world coming back in soft fragments as I realize I’m being carried—no, cradled—up the stairs. My head lolls slightly as my cheek rests against a broad chest, and I catch the deep, familiar scent of Connor wrapping around me.
“Hey, Omega,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss to my hairline. “You with us?”
I manage a small, content sound in the back of my throat that might be a yes, too wrung out to form a word.
My entire body feels like it’s been poured into itself—loose, aching, and humming.
Every nerve is oversensitive in that way that comes after something intense, when even breathing feels optional.
I’m completely spent, and I couldn’t move if I wanted to.
But I don’t want to.
I’m passed gently into other arms, just as solid, just as sure. Beau. I know it without looking, can feel it through our bond.
“I’ve got you,” he says gruffly, his hand splayed across my thigh.
“The bed,” Theo mutters from nearby. “Is it big enough?”
“Just about,” Connor snorts under his breath.
I barely register being lowered onto the mattress, the soft dip of it beneath my weight, the way the covers are pulled up and tucked around me.
They’re efficient and gentle as they move around me, tender in a way that makes my chest ache.
Theo crawls in beside me, careful of his injured shoulder, and his eyes flick over my face, checking every detail. His curls are damp, his expression wrecked and tender all at once.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, fingers brushing my wrist like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
I swallow. “I’m… better than okay.”
My voice cracks, and I try again.
“I’m perfect.”
The relief that crosses his face is almost painful to witness, and he presses a kiss to my temple, lingering there like it matters.
Connor’s already at my feet, gently massaging my calves, thumbs digging into tender muscles.
“We pushed you hard,” he says, not quite apologetic, more like… awed. “Didn’t mean to be animals about it.”
I smile, dazed and blissed out.
“You are animals. That’s kind of the point.”
Beau lets out a huff of breath behind me—half laugh, half growl—and pulls the duvet up over my hips. His palm coasts up my back, big and grounding.
“Can’t believe you took us all like that.”
“I can,” I murmur. “I wanted it. All of it.”
That gets a reaction from all of them.
A shift. A collective breath.
“Still,” Beau murmurs, “we take care of what’s ours.”
The word ours lands deep, heavy and right.
Theo tucks himself closer, forehead resting against my shoulder as Connor stretches out along my legs, warm and solid. Beau stays behind me, surrounding without smothering, the bond between us quiet but present—like a heartbeat under skin.
I stare up at the ceiling, still floating somewhere between awake and gone, and whisper.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this full or this empty at the same time.”
Beau chuckles.
“We’ll fix that in a few hours, Omega. Don’t worry.”
Connor tangles our legs.
“This was nothing, really. You reckon you’re gonna be able to survive heat after this?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice small. “I feel like I’m gonna float right out of my skin.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Theo whispers, brushing his nose along mine. “You’re safe here.”
I bite my lip, the sting of tears suddenly sharp in my throat. Not from pain, not even from the overwhelming pleasure I’d been drowning in downstairs, but from this—this tenderness.
The way they’re all watching me like I’m sacred. The way they’re gentle.
Hands move through my hair, and fingers trace slow, soothing paths along my arm. Someone presses a glass of water to my lips; someone else reminds me to drink, and I let them hold me.
This shouldn’t feel real, but it does, and as sleep finally pulls me under, wrapped in warmth and steady breathing, one truth settles deeper than instinct:
I’m not alone anymore.
I don’t have to be.