Chapter 35 Wyatt #2
Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, revealing the elegant line of her neck, the delicate curve of her ears.
She’d taken off the shirt and pants from earlier, folding them on the floor.
She now wore a pair of form-fitted shorts printed with horseshoes.
I remembered those, they were part of a pajama set Gran got us at Christmas.
We couldn’t have been more than ten at the time.
Nelly’s upper body sported a white tank top, tight enough to curve around her breasts and give us an unfettered view of her sumptuous figure.
She was stretching, warming up, her body flowing through positions without falter.
Her the balls of her feet were wrapped, cushion against the roughhewn floorboards.
Fuck, we need to give her better than this. We need to give her everything.
I heard Levi's breath catch. A glance in his direction showed his glasses slightly fogged, his hands fisted, knuckles white. His usual analytical reserve was shattered by the sight, and I couldn’t blame him. If we’d thought Nelly was beautiful before, then she was incandescent now.
Gazing back through the miniscule break in the barn wall, I watched every movement our Omega made. She arched her back, then swooped forward, one arm moving with her, fingers nearly brushing the floorboards as she dipped impossibly low, bending her body nearly in half.
When she straightened, she raised one arm in a half circle, fingers gracefully extended.
She began to raise her leg inch by inch.
Higher. Higher, until her thigh threatened to press against her side.
When she lowered her leg, she began to move in earnest. Everything else shimmered out of focus until Nelly was the only thing that existed.
Her dancing was storytelling; there was no other way to describe it.
She spun and leaped, the uneven floor a challenge she adjusted for with each skilled movement. Each time her feet landed on solid boards, the impact echoed through the barn. When she flew into the air, she seemed to momentarily float before touching down again.
As Nelly danced, our bodies responded of their own accord.
Our individual scents grew stronger with each passing second, weaving together as they always did, creating our pack’s signature cologne.
It was a collective reaching, an unconscious calling, to the Omega who moved before us in such an ethereal way that she had me wondering if she was even real.
No human being could dance the way she was.
Our pack scent cloud thickened. It swirled around us and began pushing outward, a dome expanding towards what it truly wanted to enclose. Nelly. Nelly. Tendrils of longing, ribboning closer and closer to our ballerina.
I wanted her. I wanted her so badly.
An almost painful constriction formed in my throat.
She wasn't just performing. This wasn't for an audience.
Nelly was reclaiming herself, piece by piece and movement by movement.
Determination and joy flashed across her features in equal measure.
She poured everything into the way she twirled and shifted and curved her form.
The potent cloud of Alphas pheromones was overwhelming. She’d smell it soon. She’d know we were here. It would be better to admit we were watching, rather than surprise her.
Yet none of us moved. None of us spoke. None of us were willing to break the spell of this moment. It was a privilege to witness her hard-won, hard-lost talent.
I wished there was a way to make her understand that I didn’t want her to stay just because she was an Omega, or because she was our scent matched mate.
I wanted, nay needed, her to stay because she was Nelly.
Complicated, defiant, resilient Nelly, who could transform an abandoned building into a sanctuary through sheer force of will.
Pressing my forehead against the weathered wood, I struggled to breathe through the sudden onslaught of desperate need.
For days, I'd told myself I was being practical.
That maintaining emotional distance was the responsible thing to do.
That expecting her to leave was simply acknowledging reality.
But the truth crashed through me now with the force of a flash flood; I'd just been protecting myself from the pain of wanting someone who might not want me back. Wade had given me shit about it a couple days ago, said Nelly didn’t even think I liked her.
But how the fuck was I supposed to crack my chest open for this woman who might disappear tomorrow?
Nelly’s body curved and twisted.
There was anger in some movements.
Sharp, staccato jabs that punched through the air.
Grief laced through others.
She made herself smaller, folding limbs and arms and legs.
And then, most devastating of all, moments of pure joy took over.
Jumps that bathed her body in golden shafts of light slipping through roof damage. Lovely spins she managed despite the shitty, splintering floor.
My throat burned as I watched her, every instinct in my body screaming to go to her. But I remained frozen. This wasn't about me. It wasn't about any of us. This was Nelly's moment, Nelly's healing, Nelly's private reclamation of her identity. All I could do was bear witness.
Her movements began to change, subtly at first, then more noticeably.
The explosive energy that had driven her dance started to ebb, her leaps becoming shorter, her turns slower.
She paused in the center of her cleared space, chest rising and falling with exertion, a small furrow appearing between her brows.
Her head tilted slightly, like a deer catching a distant sound.
She'd finally sensed us. I held my breath, waiting for the anger, the accusation, the sense of violation that would surely follow. Please understand we had to watch you. Please know we couldn’t help ourselves.
Nelly turned, as if in slow motion, her eyes squinting to pierce the dimness of the barn's shadowy corners. "Hello?" Her voice was surprisingly steady, carrying easily through the quiet barn. "Is someone there?"
None of us answered. None of us moved. We were all caught in our own guilt, unsure if we should retreat as fast as possible, or admit we were here.
She took a few steps forward, pulling deep breaths into her lungs.
"How long have you guys been watching?" The question wasn't accusatory, as I'd expected.
Instead, it held a note of curiosity, perhaps even a hint of amusement.
As if she'd caught children with their hands in the cookie jar rather than grown men invading her privacy.
I could feel my brothers' confusion mirroring my own—we'd expected anger, outrage, the fiery defiance that had marked most of our interactions with Nelly.
Not this calm question, this almost gentle acknowledgment of our presence.
She turned again, this time directly toward the spot where I stood. Though I knew she couldn't see me clearly through the small opening, her eyes seemed to precisely target mine. The corner of her mouth quirked up in what might have been the beginning of a smile.
"I know you're there," she said, her voice softer now, almost intimate. "I can smell you guys."
Of course she could. Our Alpha scents had intensified to the point where we’d announced our presence as surely as if we'd shouted it out loud. We couldn't hide anymore, and we didn’t want to hide anymore.
We all seemed to take one, big, collective breath and then we moved toward the barn entrance.
Walking into the time-worn space, we were able to see all of Nelly, not just bits and pieces through inadequate peepholes.
She stood in the center of her cleared space, arms crossed over her chest, sweat glistening on her skin.
She seemed to sparkle, like every drop of moisture on her body was a diamond.
Her cheeks were deeply flushed, whether from exertion or emotion I couldn't tell. But the gold-green depths of her eyes were steadier than they’d been since she stepped off that plane.
It’s funny how a person’s eyes can shift as they’re world view shifts.
It’s like the old saying, ‘eyes are the windows to the soul’.
I’d seen ever feeling in the book in Nelly’s eyes.
Resistance. Grief. Anger. Hope. Lust. Now, something softer had settled into the iris and it made me feel encouraged.
"Next time," she said as we filed into the barn, five chastened Alphas caught in an act of voyeurism, "you could just ask to watch."
I’d never thought to ask her permission, because I’d known she wouldn’t say, ‘yes’. Yet, here she was telling me watching her and being near her and loving her, was one question away.
She looked at each of us in turn, taking in our expressions of surprise and wonder and unspoken longing. "Your faces," she said, shaking her head. "You look like I’ve just told you the world is flat, and all the cows fell off the edge."
"Something like that," Wade murmured from beside me, his voice thick with emotion.
“And nothing like that,” Boone added.
Nelly's smile faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful expression as she continued to study us. "So now you know," she said simply.
"Know what?" Cooper asked, unable to contain himself any longer.
She gestured around the barn, at the space she'd created, at the lingering energy of her dance still vibrating in the air between us.
"This is who I am. Who I was. Who I wanted to be again, even if it meant stripping.
" Her chin lifted slightly, that familiar defiance returning.
"Not just an Omega. Not just a body to be bought and sold. This."
The declaration hung in the air, a challenge and an offering rolled into one. I found myself nodding, words still beyond my grasp, my throat too tight to speak.
"You're beautiful when you dance,” Boone said, his deep voice unusually soft. “You were born to do it.”
A flush spread across Nelly's cheeks at his words, but she didn't look away. "Yes, I know.”
We stood in a circle of sunlight, surrounded by the remnants of her past and Sagebrush’s past. I wondered if the others contemplated the uncertain promise of our joint future.
For the first time since Nelly’s arrival, my hope outweighed my doubt.