Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
KEIRA
I woke with an itch under my skin that wouldn't go away.
It wasn't physical — not exactly. More like a restlessness, a nagging sensation that something was wrong, something was incomplete, something needed to be fixed immediately.
I lay in the nest for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to identify the source of my discomfort.
The nest. Something was wrong with the nest.
I sat up slowly, looking around at the blankets and pillows arranged around me. It looked fine. Comfortable. Soft. Filled with the mingled scents of five alphas that had become as familiar as my own heartbeat.
It wasn't right.
The thought came from somewhere deep, somewhere instinctive, and suddenly I was moving before I could think about it. Pulling blankets out of their careful arrangement. Repositioning pillows. Tugging at the sheets until they lay differently, then tugging again because that wasn't right either.
Yes, my omega urged. Fix it. Make it better. Make it perfect.
I didn't know what perfect looked like. I just knew this wasn't it. By the time Hwan wandered in an hour later, I'd deconstructed the entire nest and was sitting in the middle of a fabric explosion, frustrated tears pricking at my eyes.
"Whoa." Hwan stopped in the doorway, his golden eyes going wide as he took in the chaos, his freshly styled hair still damp from a shower, one hand braced against the doorframe in surprise. "What happened in here?"
"I don't know." My voice came out thick, embarrassed, and I scrubbed at my face with the back of my hand, feeling the heat of shame creeping up my neck. "It wasn't right. I had to fix it. But I can't figure out how to make it right."
Hwan's expression softened from surprise into something understanding, the concern in his eyes shifting to gentle recognition. He crossed the room and crouched beside me, his hand finding my shoulder with gentle pressure, his warmth seeping through my shirt.
"Nesting instinct." Hwan said simply, his voice warm and without judgment, his thumb rubbing soothing circles through the fabric as he studied the mess around us. "It happens before heat. The urge to make everything perfect."
"It's not perfect." I gestured helplessly at the mess around us, my voice cracking slightly, my hands trembling with frustration as I looked at the chaos I'd created. "Nothing's in the right place. And I don't even know what the right place is."
"Maybe I can help." Hwan said, his golden eyes brightening with purpose, and before I could respond, he was pulling his hoodie over his head, the worn fabric carrying his sunshine-and-vanilla scent in concentrated form.
He pressed it into my hands, his fingers lingering on mine with gentle reassurance.
"Start with this. Put it wherever feels right. "
I stared at the hoodie for a moment, then pressed it to my face and inhaled. His scent flooded my senses, warm and bright and comforting, and something in my chest unclenched slightly.
Yes, my omega sighed. His scent. Need his scent.
I tucked the hoodie into a corner of the nest, arranging it just so, and felt the rightness of it settle into my bones.
"Better?" Hwan asked, watching me with soft eyes, a small smile playing at his lips, his head tilted slightly as he observed my careful movements.
"A little." I admitted, looking at the small island of order I'd created in the sea of chaos, my fingers still smoothing the fabric into place with obsessive attention. "But I need... more."
"I'll get the others." Hwan stood, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head before disappearing into the hallway, his footsteps quick and purposeful on the hardwood floor.
Within twenty minutes, I had offerings.
Tae-min brought three t-shirts and a pillow from his bed, all saturated with his ocean-spray-and-mint scent.
Jin-ho appeared with a worn cardigan that smelled of rain and old books, quiet as he placed it in my hands without a word.
Jae-won contributed a sleep shirt, the thunderstorm-and-petrichor scent so strong it made my head swim.
Min-jun arrived last with a soft blanket that carried forest-and-cedar, wrapping it around my shoulders before stepping back.
I arranged them all obsessively, moving items from spot to spot, layering scents in patterns that made sense only to some deep, primal part of my brain.
The others watched from the doorway, not entering the nest space without invitation, somehow understanding that this was my domain, my project, my instinct to satisfy.
Their scents everywhere, my omega purred. Yes. Good. Ours. Safe.
It took hours. I lost track of time entirely, consumed by the need to get everything exactly right.
Tae-min's shirt needed to be near the head of the nest, but overlapping with Jin-ho's cardigan.
Jae-won's pillow went in the center, a grounding anchor.
Hwan's hoodie stayed in its corner, bright and warm.
Min-jun's blanket wrapped around everything, holding it all together.
By the time I finally sat back, satisfied, the sun had shifted from morning to late afternoon. My muscles ached from constant movement. My eyes burned from focus. But the nest was perfect.
It was right.
"Feel better?" Min-jun's voice came from the doorway, soft and careful, not wanting to startle me, his frame silhouetted against the light from the hallway.
I looked up at him, suddenly aware of how I must look — hair disheveled, clothes rumpled, dark circles probably forming under my eyes from the intensity of my focus.
"Yes." I said, and my voice came out hoarse, rough from hours of disuse, my throat dry and scratchy. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." Min-jun crossed the room, settling beside me with careful movements, making sure not to disturb the arrangement I'd created, his warmth radiating beside me as his weight dipped the mattress. "It's natural. Your body knows what it needs."
I laughed, but there was no humor in it, the sound coming out brittle and thin, more exhale than actual laughter. "My body is apparently very demanding."
"Your body is preparing." Min-jun said gently, his hand finding mine in the nest of blankets, his fingers threading through mine with easy familiarity, his dark eyes soft with understanding.
I looked down at our joined hands, at the way his fingers — strong and capable — held mine with such gentleness. The forest-cedar scent of him wrapped around me, familiar now, comforting.
Need him, my omega whispered.
"How are you doing?" Min-jun asked, his voice soft, his dark eyes searching my face with genuine concern, his thumb tracing patterns on the back of my hand. "Not the nest. You."
The question caught me off guard. I'd been so focused on the nesting, on the physical, on the instinct, that I hadn't stopped to check in with myself.
"I don't know." I admitted, the honesty feeling raw and vulnerable on my tongue, my gaze dropping to our intertwined fingers. "Scared, I think. Of what's coming. Of how intense everything is getting. Of how much I..."
I trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence.
"How much you what?" Min-jun prompted gently, his attention fully on me, patient and present, his body angled toward mine in the nest.
"Want this." The words came out barely above a whisper, confession and fear wrapped together, my heart hammering in my chest. "I'm scared of how much I want it. Want you. All of you. It feels too big. Too fast. Too much."
Min-jun was quiet for a moment, considering my words, his expression thoughtful. Then he shifted, turning so he could face me more fully, both his hands now holding mine, his knees brushing against mine in the tangle of blankets.
"Can I tell you something?" Min-jun asked, his voice low and intimate, his dark eyes soft in the afternoon light filtering through the curtains, something vulnerable flickering in their depths.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"You're the first thing I think about when I wake up.
" Min-jun said, and the rawness in his voice made my breath catch, his usual composure stripped away to reveal something tender underneath.
"And the last thing before I sleep. I dream about you.
Not just the bond, not just instinct. You.
Your laugh. Your stubbornness. The way you fight so hard to protect yourself, even when you don't need to anymore. "
My heart was pounding, loud enough that I was sure he could hear it, the sound rushing in my ears.
"I didn't expect this." Min-jun continued, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on my palms, his touch grounding and warm, his eyes never leaving mine.
"When we found out about the bond, I thought.
.. I thought it would be complicated. Difficult.
Something we'd have to work at." He smiled, small and genuine, his dimples appearing briefly.
"But it's not. Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done. "
Loving. He'd said loving.
"Min-jun..." My voice cracked, overwhelmed by the simple sincerity of his words, moisture pricking at my eyes, my fingers tightening around his.
"You don't have to say anything back." Min-jun said quickly, his grip on my hands tightening slightly, reassurance in every word, his expression earnest and open. "I just wanted you to know. Whatever you're feeling, whatever you're scared of — you're not alone in this. We're all falling. Together."
I stared at him, at this gentle alpha who brought food and comfort and asked how I was doing instead of assuming he knew. Who held my hands in a nest I'd obsessively built and told me he loved me like it was the simplest truth in the world.
Want him, my omega breathed. Trust him. Keep him.