Chapter 21 Mona
I lay in bed with my palms together under my head, on my side. And I watch her sleep. Her bangs are curly. Her cheeks are round. Even in her sleep, she smiles.
A man is behind her, one hand thrown over her hip, over the covers.
It took me less time to realize I was dreaming this time. Usually I’m disoriented, realizing I’m in a dream, and then trying to soak up everything I’m seeing. This time, I knew right away.
Her scent helps. Everyone else I’ve met, they have layers to it. Different notes complementing each other. Not everyone’s scent is appealing to me, but it will be appealing to someone. But this girl, she smells of nothing but strawberries.
It makes me smile.
The man behind her is a beta. The lamp beside the bed is on.
Like they just finished making love and passed out from exhaustion, too tired to turn it off.
I push up to see his face, but the dream is fading.
I try to breathe him in but can’t catch anything except his designation.
I think they are mates, but not fated. I hear a noise.
The door opens. Another man enters, an alpha.
He grins at the two in bed. Another mate. Still, not fated.
I try to fight against it, to keep watching, but the edges blur.
And then the room fades to black. I gasp and sit up. Silas is in bed beside me. Orion on my other side.
We went to bed last night after a riveting game of chess wherein Silas beat Grayson, whose demands for a rematch made us all grumble.
He said he’d put on a pot of coffee. He was way too enthusiastic about beating his brother.
Orion threw me over his shoulder and told my other mates to leave me out of their rivalry.
We made love and fell asleep, and I woke hours later—I could tell by the gray light outside the window—with Silas climbing into bed behind me.
“Where’s Grayson?” I yawned, half-asleep.
“He drank the coffee. So, he’s in the nest.”
“Huh?” His words made no sense. But Silas wrapped his arm around my waist, tucked his head into my neck, and promptly passed out, so I did the same.
It’s still dark out, that must have only been an hour ago. Gingerly, I pull back the covers and shimmy off the bed without waking Orion or Silas. When I step into the hallway, I’m shocked to see the door at the end swung wide open.
I quickly use the bathroom, but when I come out, I head toward the mysterious room. My omega is wide awake now. Even Beep is alert.
The room is dark, windowless, with only a sliver of light spilling in from the hallway behind me. With my shifter senses, I can see well enough, though.
Grayson lies sprawled across the enormous bed.
He’s still fully clothed, wearing worn jeans and a threadbare black t-shirt, face buried in the mattress, one muscular arm dangling off the edge.
His long dark hair has fallen out of its signature leather strap, and his deep, rumbling snores vibrate through the night air, and I hold in my giggle. He looks so cute like this.
Beep snorts and corrects me. Not cute. Sexy.
Okay, I agree, as my eyes rake over his hulking frame, my mind drifting to how powerful those hips are when they slam into me. Sexy. Very, very sexy.
Unlike the last time I came into this room, soft cotton sheets tightly hug the mattress. There are still too many pillows to count, and in the far corner of the room, stacks of blankets sit neatly folded on an ottoman that also wasn’t there before.
I imagine burrowing beneath those blankets, drowning in their warmth and softness, and his raw, masculine scent. No—all their scents. Orion, Grayson, Silas, and Ghost.
My knees weaken, fingers tightening on the doorframe, my pulse hammering as heat floods between my thighs.
There’s just something about this room that draws me in.
The cedar-paneled walls seem to glow, even in the darkness.
Wide beams cross the ceiling above, anchoring the snug space.
If I flicked the light switch, I know the lights would be low and gentle.
The mattress dominates everything—an island, draped in soft materials, that could hold all five of us, pressed together, skin against skin.
It almost feels sentient, the way the room seems to inhale and exhale around me.
Beep, I whisper internally, can a room hold magic?
Of course.
Is this room made of magic?
She takes a second to respond. And then says, Our mates are magic when united. This space belongs to all of us together. Is that not magic?
Heather’s homemade rosemary spray permeates the air, as if Grayson had scrubbed away every last speck of dust overnight, and I try to focus on that and not the image of all four of my mates in one place, in one bed.
Grayson’s neck is twisted at an awkward angle, so I ease one of the pillows beneath his head and attempt to maneuver his body.
His weight is too much, but eventually, subconsciously, he cooperates.
He shifts, and with a contented sigh, he rolls onto his side and hugs another pillow close to his chest.
Grayson, my bossy, overprotective, dominant alpha, hugging the pillow like it’s a teddy bear.
With a smile, I tiptoe back out of the room.
I get dressed quietly and head downstairs. After tracking down Grayson’s phone, I find some old music to play on low, then start making breakfast. One of my favorite things about being a shifter is the fact that I don’t even notice not having a phone. I couldn’t live without one when I was human.
It’s freeing—a lot of my new life is freeing—in ways I never expected.
When the buzzer goes off on the oven an hour later, I’m unsurprised to find Silas and Orion joining me in the kitchen. Silas kisses my cheek while Orion helps me finish breakfast.
“A frittata?” Orion asks excitedly. He looks cute with the floral potholders on his hands.
“I looked up a recipe online. I hope Hilde doesn’t mind, I used almost all the eggs she brought.”
“She won’t mind,” he says, setting the dish on the table between us. The three of us spoon out breakfast. Silas pours the juice, and we eat together, listening to old music, and it’s wonderfully domestic.
But even that doesn’t take my mind away from where it’s been stuck all night.
After Silas finishes his first serving, he helps himself to seconds, then asks, “You gonna tell us what’s on your mind?”
Instead of answering, I ask, “What did you mean last night? About the coffee and a… nest? What was that?”
“Gray drank that whole pot of coffee.”
Understanding dawns. Unlike alcohol, caffeine affects shifters. Not more than a human, but a pot of coffee in the middle of the night will keep anyone wide awake, shifter or not.
Silas continues, “So he was a little wired. Like he’d been snorting fucking Adderall or some shit. Lunatic.”
“Why…” I don’t even know what to ask.
“Why did Grayson do that?” Orion asks brightly.
He refills my plate, then his. Surprisingly, I’m not that hungry, but I still pick at it.
He shrugs one shoulder. “Was in a weird mood. He’s mentioned wanting to get the nest ready, and…
I don’t know. Things have been quiet. I think he’s feeling restless.
We’ve been wanting to finish the nest for a while now, anyway.
With the witches, we just hadn’t had time. I’m sorry, Firefly.”
“Gray has no one to yell at. Things are going too smoothly, it’s good he has a project to focus on,” Silas explains.
They aren’t wrong. We haven’t heard a peep from the witches, and it’s a little disconcerting considering how hard Deidre tried to track me and Silas down the first time, and now, nothing.
“And what’s a nest, exactly?”
Orion pauses with a forkful of frittata. “Oh… shit. I thought we… That’s right, we were supposed to meet with Doc when we got back, after the compound raid. To talk about your heat, and nesting.”
“Yeah, it’s a little too late to ask Doc about my heat,” I muse candidly. Silas and I told Grayson and Orion everything, including our time in the cabin, a couple of nights ago. It felt good to get it all out there.
Well, we did leave something out. Ghost. We never mentioned him, though Silas and I never actually discussed keeping his connection with all of us a secret.
It’s been an entire week since we got back, and I haven’t caught a single glimpse of Ghost. I guess I thought he’d at least want to spend some time with me, with us, before leaving.
According to Silas, he’s been out scouting most days.
I was so worried on the drive here that Ghost would vanish without a word. He’s out there hunting Deidre, and when he finds her—what then? Will he just walk away?
My mates can feel my anxiety through the bond. Silas’s eyes meet mine in understanding, but Orion reaches for my hand, a question on the tip of his tongue.
“I know all about heat,” I deflect. “But what’s a nest?”
“You know when your omega feels the need to…” Silas clears his throat, and he fucking blushes.
A scarred, shaved head, tattooed beast of an alpha—blushing.
It’s wonderful. I can’t help it, my smile draws wider, and for just a second, I forget about Ghost leaving me.
I cross my fingers and rest my chin on my hands.
“Yes, Silas? When my omega needs to, what?”
He narrows his eyes mischievously and mirrors my posture, tucking his chin on top of his fingers. “When you need to bury yourself in our scents, build a little, comfortable pile of it beneath you so you can present your ass in the air for your alphas to fuck and knot.”
I purse my lips, and he laughs darkly. Now I’m blushing. I look away, shrugging one shoulder, as if I’m not at all embarrassed by my omega.
You should not be. Your omega is a queen. They are only jealous they do not have the nesting instincts, Beep says.
God, sometimes I wish they could hear Beep’s nonsense. Ignoring her, I mumble, “Sure. I seem to recall the nesting instinct.”
Orion interjects, “You stole some of my clothes, remember? And Gray’s. You kept them close.”