32. Storm
Chapter 32
Storm
T he pile of soft blankets grows higher as Jonathan sets down another armful. The fluffy fabrics in various shades of blue and gray that somehow remind me of the stormy sky outside. I run my fingers over them, feeling their plushness, the way they yield to my touch.
This new room Jonathan gave me yesterday is perfect for nesting—darker than my previous one, with heavy curtains that block out most of the sunlight when drawn. The walls are painted a deep, soothing blue, and the space feels cozy, enclosed, secure. When he first showed it to me, explaining that he thought I might prefer it for my upcoming heat, I nearly cried at his thoughtfulness. How far we've come from the cold alpha at the Omega House.
"These are amazing," I murmur, burying my face in one particularly soft throw. It smells faintly of Jonathan's cedar and black pepper, and I inhale deeply, finding comfort in his scent.
"There's more coming tomorrow," he says, watching me with those intense green eyes. Despite being in the mountains, away from the city and all its formalities, he's still wearing a perfectly tailored suit—charcoal gray today, with a crisp white shirt but no tie. Jonathan without a suit would be like me without my attitude. It just wouldn't seem right.
"I've ordered everything I could think of—pillows, more blankets, cushions. Even some of those fairy lights Fox has in his nest."
My heart swells at his thoughtfulness, at how seriously he's taking this. Since Rook alerted him to my pre-heat symptoms yesterday, Jonathan has been on a mission to ensure I have everything I need to build a proper nest. It's a side of him I never would have imagined back in the Omega House.
"This is perfect," I tell him, already feeling the urge to arrange the blankets, to create a safe, enclosed space where I can ride out my heat. "Though I have to say, seeing you play delivery boy is a whole new look for you. Do you offer same-day shipping for all your omega customers, or am I getting special treatment?"
A rare smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Only for the ones who threatened to burn down my entire life."
"Aww, you say the sweetest things." I place a hand over my heart, batting my eyelashes dramatically.
Jonathan hesitates by the edge of the omega mattress, seeming uncertain whether to stay or go. It's so unlike his usual confident demeanor that I can't help but find it endearing.
"You can stay," I offer. "Watch me build, if you want."
He nods, settling into the armchair by the window as I begin sorting through the blankets. My omega instincts guide me, helping me determine which blankets should form the base, which should line the sides, and which should be saved for the top layer. It's strange how natural it feels, despite never having done this before.
"I've never actually seen an omega build a nest," Jonathan admits, his voice softer than usual. "Fox usually does his in private."
"Is it weird?" I ask, pausing with a blue blanket in hand. "Watching me do this?"
"No," he says quickly. "It's... fascinating. Beautiful, actually."
A blush creeps across my cheeks at his words. I turn back to my work, creating a circular shape with the base blankets, then beginning to layer the sides. The work is calming, satisfying something deep within me that I didn't know needed satisfying.
"Can I ask you something?" Jonathan says after a few minutes of companionable silence.
I glance over my shoulder at him. "Sure."
He clears his throat, looking oddly uncomfortable. "I wanted to know if you'd like any protection. For your heat."
The question catches me off guard and I turn to fully face him, the blanket I was arranging still in my hands.
"Protection?" I repeat, my mind suddenly racing.
"Yes," he says carefully. "Birth control. I can arrange for whatever you need."
The realization hits me like a physical blow. I haven't used any protection—not with Rook, not with Reed, not with Fox and Alex in the media room. Not once. It hadn't even crossed my mind.
"Oh my god," I whisper, dropping the blanket. "I haven't been using anything. At all." My hand flies to my mouth as panic rises in my chest. "How could I be so stupid? I didn't even think about it!"
Jonathan moves quickly to my side, his hand gentle on my shoulder. "Storm, it's okay. You're not stupid."
"But that's so basic!" I exclaim, my voice rising with panic. "Protection should have been the first thing I thought about! I've been with Reed, and Rook, and Fox, and I just—I didn't even consider—" I break off, mortified by my oversight.
"Storm," Jonathan says firmly, bringing my spiraling thoughts to a halt. "Look at me."
I reluctantly meet his gaze, expecting judgment, but finding only concern. My hands tremble slightly as I resume my nest building, my mind racing.
"I could be pregnant right now," I whisper, the thought both terrifying and strangely thrilling.
"You could," he agrees gently. "Especially during your heat. That's when you'll be most fertile."
I sit back on my heels, staring at the half-built nest as reality crashes over me. "Kids were never on my radar," I say, trying to sort through the whirlwind of emotions his question has triggered. "But here, in this home, with all of you..." I trail off, uncertain how to finish that thought.
"Storm," he says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, "we are all so grateful to have you as part of our pack. Whatever you want—or don't want—we will support. There's no pressure, no expectations."
I meet his eyes, searching for any sign that he's just saying what he thinks I want to hear. But all I find is sincerity, a rare vulnerability that makes my chest ache.
"Can I think about it?" I ask. "I mean, I know I could get pregnant anytime, but like you said, during heat is when I'll be most fertile. I just... I need to process this."
"Of course," Jonathan says immediately. "Take all the time you need. Just know that we're here for you, whatever you decide."
On impulse, I reach for his hand, lacing my fingers with his. His hand is warm, strong, his fingers closing around mine with a gentle pressure that grounds me. "Thank you," I whisper. "For understanding and not being an asshole."
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I'm not the asshole you thought I was?"
I laugh, the sound breaking the tension. "No, you're not. Though you still have your moments."
His smile widens into something genuine that transforms his entire face. "I'll leave you to your nest building," he says, giving my hand a final squeeze. "But if you need anything—anything at all—you only have to ask."
As he reaches the door, I call after him. "Jonathan? Send the others up, if they're around? I'd like to have something from each of them in the nest."
He nods, understanding the significance of my request. "I will."
Once he's gone, I turn back to my nest, adding more layers to the sides, creating a soft, circular wall that will contain my scent, my pack's scents, during the most vulnerable time of my life. The work is soothing, the repetitive motions help calm the anxiety Jonathan's question stirred up.
A gentle knock interrupts my thoughts, and I look up to see Fox hovering in the doorway, his honey-chamomile scent preceding him.
"Jonathan said you wanted to see us?" he says, his hazel eyes taking in the nest growing on my bed.
"Come in," I invite, patting the spot beside me. "I was hoping you might have something for my nest. Something with your scent on it."
Fox's face brightens with understanding. "I brought these," he says, holding up what looks like a silky pillow and a soft throw blanket in a warm golden color that reminds me of honey. "From my own nest. I thought maybe... we could swap? May I get something with your scent for my nest?"
My heart melts at the gesture. "I'd love that," I tell him, accepting the offerings and burying my nose in them. The blanket smells powerfully of Fox—sweet honey and soothing chamomile, whereas the pillow is Alexander. The vanilla scent immediately soothes something in me, making me feel less alone in this new experience.
"Your nest is beautiful," Fox says, watching as I carefully incorporate his gifts, placing the pillow in a prominent position against the back wall, draping the golden throw over it. "Mine was a mess the first time I tried to build one."
"It feels weird," I admit. "Like my body knows what to do, even if my mind doesn't."
Fox nods, understanding in his eyes. "That's exactly what it's like."
After Fox leaves, promising to send Frankie up next, I sit back and survey my progress. The nest is taking shape, becoming a safe-haven that calls to the omega in me. I've placed Fox's contributions where I can easily reach them, already finding comfort in the scent.
Frankie arrives a few minutes later, looking slightly nervous as he peers into the room. "Hey," he says, his warm brown eyes taking in the nest. "Whoa, that looks amazing."
I smile, waving him over. "Thanks. It's still a work in progress."
He approaches cautiously, his toasted marshmallow and cinnamon scent mingling pleasantly with the other scents already in the room. In his hands, he holds what looks like a soft, well-worn flannel shirt in deep forest green.
"I thought maybe you'd want this," he says, offering it to me. "It's my favorite, so it has a lot of my scent on it."
I take it, immediately pressing it to my face and inhaling deeply. The comforting beta scent wraps around me like a hug, and I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders. "It's perfect, Frankie. Thank you."
He watches as I carefully fold it and place it at the front of the nest, where it will be one of the first things I see, the first scent I inhale when I enter. "Will you be okay?" he asks softly. "During your heat, I mean."
The concern in his voice warms me. "I think so," I say, though truthfully, I'm terrified. "Especially with all of you here to help."
Frankie's cheeks flush slightly. "I'm not sure how much help I'll be."
"I need you more than you know, Frankie." I say honestly.
After Frankie leaves, I turn back to my nest, adjusting the placement of his shirt slightly, making sure it's secure and won't slip down during my heat.
A stronger knock sounds at the door. I don't need to look up to know it's Reed.
"Come in," I call, continuing to work on the nest walls, building them higher with the blankets Jonathan provided.
Reed's ocean and cedar scent fills the room as he steps inside, powerful and grounding. He's carrying what looks like a bundle of dark clothing.
"Jonathan said you were asking for contributions," he says, his voice gruff and very much Reed.
I glance up at him, taking in his imposing figure, the stormy eyes that watch me with an intensity that still makes my heart beat faster. "Well, if it isn't my favorite grumpy alpha," I say with a smirk. "Come to donate to the cause?"
His eyebrow arches at my tone, but I catch the smallest twitch of his lips. "I have," he confirms, gesturing to the bundle.
"One thing with your scent," I say, breaking into a grin at how much he has brought.
He approaches, setting the bundle down beside me. “Thought you might want options."
I reach for the items, spreading them out to examine each one. The hoodie immediately catches my attention—dark blue, soft from wear, the fabric saturated with Reed's scent. I press it to my face, inhaling deeply. It smells like him after a shower, clean but still undeniably Reed, with notes of that ocean breeze that always clings to him.
"This one," I decide, adding it to the nest, arranging it carefully next to Frankie's flannel and Fox's blanket. "Thank you."
Reed nods, his eyes tracking my movements as I continue building.
"Have you had any luck with Harley?" I ask, remembering his promise to try to contact her.
"I'm trying," he says, his expression darkening slightly. "It's complicated. They left the city, likely hiding out like we are. But I'll keep at it."
I pause in my work, concern for my friend washing over me. "What's happening in the city?" I ask, suddenly realizing how isolated we've been here, how little news we've received about the aftermath of the rebellion I accidentally triggered.
Reed's jaw tightens, but after a moment, he answers. "Changes. Big ones. The lottery system is being completely overhauled. The Omega House is under new management."
My heart leaps with hope. "Really? So I didn’t fuck up when I chose your pack?"
"No, the system needed a little… storm .” A hint of a smile crosses his face.
Reed's stormy eyes meet mine directly. "Your actions were the spark, whether you intended them to be or not. The rebellion was coming either way—you just gave it the push it needed."
“What happened exactly?” I saw how angry those beta-born alphas were. I hope they didn’t hurt anyone.
"Everything has changed, but for the good. You're safe here with us, and we'll make sure you stay that way. That's all you need to know.”
Impulsively, I rise from the nest and cross to him, wrapping my arms around his waist in a hug that seems to catch him by surprise. After a moment, his arms come around me, returning the embrace.
"Thank you," I murmur against his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. "For everything."
His large hand comes up to stroke my wild curls, the touch gentle and surprisingly tender. "You're pack now," he says simply, as if that explains everything. And in a way, it does.
When Reed leaves, I return to my nest, incorporating his hoodie into the design with care, making sure it's positioned where I can easily reach it, where its scent will surround me during the most intense moments of my heat.
The door opens again without a knock, and Rook's familiar strawberries and cream scent washes over me. My heart lifts at his presence, at the way he strides directly to the nest without hesitation.
"Look at you," he says, admiration clear in his voice as he takes in the nearly completed nest. "Building a nest."
I smile up at him, reaching for his hand. "It’s weird, but also not weird."
Rook laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out. "Who knew this is where we would be?" he says, settling beside me on the edge of the nest.
“You didn’t bring me anything.” I pout playfully.
He pulls off the faded band t-shirt he's wearing and offers it to me. "Fresh scent."
"Oh my god, are you stripping for me?" I tease, fanning myself dramatically.
He laughs as I take the still-warm garment and immediately bring it to my face. The powerful flood of his scent—strawberries and cream, but also sweat and something purely Rook. It sends a wave of contentment through me, followed by slick, that reminds me my heat is approaching.
"Perfect," I say, voice slightly muffled by the fabric. "This is going right in the center."
Rook watches as I place his shirt in the heart of the nest, arranging it carefully so it won't get buried under the other items. His dark eyes are soft with an emotion that makes my chest tighten with love.
"How are you feeling?" he asks. "Any more cramps?"
I shake my head. "Not too bad. But I can feel something building, like pressure under my skin. Fox says that's a normal part of the pre-heat."
Rook reaches out to touch my face, his calloused fingers gentle against my cheek. "You're going to be okay," he says, conviction in his voice. "We'll all be here for you."
"I know," I tell him, leaning into his touch. "That's what makes this bearable." I hesitate, then add, "Jonathan asked me about protection earlier. If I wanted any."
Rook's expression remains neutral, though I notice his scent shifting slightly. "What did you tell him?"
"That I needed to think about it," I admit. "I hadn't even considered the possibility of getting pregnant until he mentioned it."
Rook's thumb strokes my cheekbone, his touch soothing. "Whatever you decide, I'll support you. We all will."
The simplicity of his acceptance, the lack of pressure or expectation, makes my eyes burn with unexpected tears. "I love you," I whisper, turning my face to press a kiss to his palm. "So much."
"I love you too, Hurricane," he says, using the old nickname that always makes my heart flip. "Always have, always will."
He stays with me as I put the finishing touches on the nest, helping me arrange the top layer of blankets, ensuring everything is secure. When we're done, the result is a circular haven of soft fabrics and comforting scents, large enough to accommodate multiple people but small enough to feel cozy and safe.
"What do you think?" I ask, stepping back to survey the nest.
Rook's arms wrap around me from behind, his chin resting on top of my head. "It's perfect," he says, his voice rumbling through his chest against my back.
"Just like you."