Chapter Eight
Odette
The first thing I noticed was the soft and golden light spilling through the gauzy curtains and filtering into my nest like melted warmth.
My lashes fluttered, but I didn’t open my eyes yet.
I didn’t need to. I knew exactly where I was, surrounded by the familiar scent of comfort and belonging—my nest.
The space was everything to me: my sanctuary, my cocoon, and my castle made from blankets and love.
Layers of plush throws in warm oranges and honeyed golds were piled around me, some worn soft with years of use, others newer but already infused with the familiar scent of home.
My favorite fluffy, oversized, and mismatched pillows were stacked haphazardly behind me.
Half of them have little stitched suns or velvet fringes.
One had a tiny embroidered fox on it. I didn’t remember buying that one, but it made me smile whenever I saw it.
The sheets beneath me were sun-warmed and buttery soft, tucked into the oversized mattress that took up almost the entire corner of the room.
It sat low to the ground, surrounded by a frame the guys had set up with patient hands and quiet grins.
I remembered the way Micha had carefully drilled in each screw, the way Salem had laid out the rug beneath it so nothing would scrape the floor.
Ravik had carried the entire bed frame upstairs by himself without breaking a sweat, but he’d still looked at me afterward like he wanted me to be proud of him.
Haze had walked in with a laundry basket full of dryer-warmed stuffed animals and declared them “emotional support hostages.”
Gods, they’d been so sweet. No questions, no pushback. They hadn’t just let me bring my nest—they’d made space for it. Built around it, helped me make it mine again.
I blinked slowly, my body still half-draped in soft golden blankets, the scent of citrus and warm flannel wrapped around me.
A sleepy smile pulled at my lips, and I tucked my face deeper into one of my oldest pillows, the one that smelled like vanilla and fabric softener and had a small, hidden tear in the seam that I never fixed because I liked to press my thumb into it when I was anxious.
This was mine—all of it.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t wake up with my heart pounding or my stomach twisted in knots. I just felt… full. Safe. Warm.
And maybe a little smug.
Not only did I still have every piece of my nest, but I also had four massive, overprotective alphas who carried it, fluffed it, and rearranged it three times until I was satisfied.
I was just starting to drift again, tucked deep into the heart of my nest, when the thunder of approaching footsteps echoed down the hall.
I didn’t even have time to sit up before—
“Incoming!”
A blur of chaotic energy launched through the open bedroom door and landed with a dramatic oof right in the middle of my nest. My nest shifted and dipped beneath the sudden weight as Haze sprawled out beside me like an overexcited puppy.
His naked chest was distracting me with all of his golden skin. Is it normal to want to lick abs?
I groaned, dragging the edge of a blanket over my face. “Haze,” I mumbled, my voice half-buried in a pillow, “do you have any idea how long it took me to fluff that corner?”
He was already burrowing beneath the top layer of orange and gold throws, his dark hair sticking up in wild tufts and a delighted grin stretching across his face. “I regret nothing,” he announced proudly, snuggling dramatically against me. “It smells like heaven in here. Like sunshine and you.”
“You’re going to suffocate,” I said flatly, trying not to laugh as he wrapped himself in a swath of velvet like a very determined burrito.
From the doorway, Salem’s amused voice drifted in. “He’s been waiting all morning to do that.”
I turned my head and found him leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed, an indulgent smile tugging at his lips. His eyes, always calm and steady, softened as they landed on me.
“You’re really letting him destroy my nest?” I asked, raising a brow.
“He can rebuild it,” Salem said mildly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “He was the one who knocked over half your pillows trying to deliver snacks last night.”
“Sabotage,” Haze muttered from under the blankets. “I was trying to bring her chocolate.”
“You tripped over your own feet,” Salem replied dryly.
“I was distracted by how cute she looked.”
I flushed, rolling my eyes as I lightly smacked him with a nearby pillow. “You’re impossible.”
Haze beamed at me from where he was tangled in golden throws. “And yet, you adore me.”
I couldn’t even argue. Not when he looked so damn proud of himself.
“Oh, and by the way—” he added, suddenly serious in the way only Haze could manage while wrapped in fleece, “—breakfast is ready. Micha made those weird fancy eggs you like, and Ravik made a noise when I tried to steal bacon, so I’m assuming it’s good.”
“Wait… Micha cooked?” I blinked, propping myself up on an elbow.
“Real apron and everything,” Haze confirmed solemnly. “Salem took pictures.”
“Blackmail material,” Salem said with a satisfied nod. “For later.”
I laughed, warm and easy, as I sat up in my nest and brushed hair from my eyes. Haze looked up at me like I’d just split the clouds open and let the sun pour in.
“C’mon,” he said, reaching up and gently tugging on my hand. “We’ve got food. We’ve got coffee. And we’ve got a perfectly chaotic morning waiting for us.”
And gods help me, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I finally rolled out of my nest, blanket still clinging to my legs like it didn’t want to let me go. Honestly, I didn’t blame it. But breakfast smelled too good to ignore—and the moment Haze said Micha had cooked? Curiosity alone got me moving.
My sleep shorts stayed on, soft and high-waisted, but I needed something on top. I plucked one of Haze’s T-shirts from the corner chair—the one he left in my room “just in case” I ever needed something delightfully oversized and questionably clean.
It slipped over my head easily, swallowing me whole.
The hem hit just below the curve of my thighs, my shorts completely hidden beneath the fabric.
I lift the collar up to my nose and breathe in his mint, cedar, and frosted pine scent.
It reminds me of Christmas. Bold white letters stretched across the front of the black shirt: “I have two moods: Slightly feral or emotionally unstable. Choose wisely.”
I do my morning routine, washing my face and brushing my teeth. I pulled my hair up into a messy bun, checked the mirror, snorted, and decided it was perfect.
When I stepped out into the hallway, I found Salem still waiting for me, arms crossed, a barely concealed smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked me up and down.
“I see you’ve stolen from the menace,” he said, pushing off the wall as I joined him.
“He left it in my space,” I replied innocently. “That’s practically a formal offering.”
His quiet chuckle followed us as we made our way through the house, familiar now in a way that still caught me off guard sometimes.
The floors were warm, natural wood, rich with deep knots and soft grains.
The walls were a mix of muted grays and earthy textures, lit by morning sunlight spilling through floor-to-ceiling windows.
The furniture was all sharp lines and deep comfort leather, dark woods, and throw pillows that definitely didn’t match but somehow made sense together.
It felt… like them.
Their scents were strong throughout the house. All of them layered like a second skin in this space. It was chaotic and delicious. Dangerous and warm. Just like them.
As I stepped into the kitchen, the conversation immediately stopped.
Three sets of eyes locked on me like I’d just sauntered in wearing lingerie and holding a grenade.
Which, to be fair, I could probably pull off.
Micha stood by the stove, spatula in hand, brow arched ever so slightly as he took in the shirt, the lack of visible pants, and my bare legs.
“Good morning sunshine,” he said smoothly, though I didn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze.
Ravik was at the table, a coffee mug halfway to his mouth. He didn’t blink, didn’t speak, just stared. Hard. His jaw flexed once before he carefully set the mug down like it had personally offended him. I notice his hand disappear as he adjusts himself. I’m both proud and trying not to laugh.
Salem gave me a nudge forward with his shoulder. “Careful. You might cause a riot.”
“I’m dressed,” I defended, crossing my arms—not that it helped. It just made the shirt ride up slightly and made things worse.
“Oh, we know,” Haze said, already leaning against the counter like he’d been waiting for the show. “But now I’m gonna need that shirt back. I mean, look at you. You’re stealing my entire aesthetic.”
I tilted my head and gave him a slow grin. “Jealous that I wear it better?”
Haze let out a wounded groan, dramatically slapping a hand over his chest. “She stabs! She wounds!”
Ravik’s voice cut in, low and rough. “Don’t encourage him.”
“You’re not helping either,” Micha muttered, turning back to the stove, though I didn’t miss the faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
Salem slid into a seat at the island, motioning for me to come closer. “Come eat before they combust. And please—stay standing for a bit longer. I’m enjoying the view.”
I raised an eyebrow, cheeks flushing even as I strutted over and leaned on the counter just to mess with them. “You all are ridiculous.”
“Yes,” Micha said dryly, plating eggs onto a dish with practiced ease. “But you like us that way.”
“I do,” I admitted, accepting the plate and settling between Salem and Haze. “God help me, I really do.”
Haze leaned in close, whispering just loud enough for everyone to hear, “If I die, I want it to be by her thighs. Death by Omega is how I go.”
Ravik let out a long-suffering sigh.