32. Nelly
Nelly
Sunlight greets me.
For a moment, I think I'm dreaming. I blink slowly, squinting against the brightness pouring through the window. My brain struggles to make sense of what I'm seeing.
Sun. No gray skies. No lightning. No loud sounds to make me jump or torrential rain beating at the windows like they owe it money.
Just pure, unadulterated sunshine.
I bolt upright so quickly that every muscle in my body protests.
"Ow," I groan as my hand flies to my head.
My voice comes out rough and everything aches. My hips protest as I wiggle my legs off the edge of the couch. My thighs burn as I try to stand. My back pulses as I waddle toward the window, peering out over the world.
Even my arms feel sore as I bring my hand up and splay it against the cool glass.
The storm.
It's gone.
How long was my heat? I turn back toward my nest, and it looks like a tornado ripped through the damn thing.
Blankets are hanging halfway off the cushions.
Pillows are scattered all across Nash's living room floor.
Some of the stuff looks crusty, and all of their scents hang heavily in the air, intermingled with mine.
I turn my attention back to the window and hope punches through my chest so hard it nearly steals my breath.
I lunge for the remote so I can find the weather channel on the television…
and the room tilts. My knees wobble, and I have to sit down on the couch before I fall.
It takes me a moment of deep breathing to get the room to stop spinning, and then I'm flipping through channels trying to find a weather report.
And when I finally do, there's nothing but little sun icons on the weekly forecast.
"Yes!" I exclaim as I hop back up.
"Fuck," I groan when my body protests the movement.
I half run, half limp toward Nash's bedroom. I have to see the house. I have to see what's happened to it. Everything is so muddled. My senses feel like they're underwater. I stick a finger in my ear and wiggle it around, trying to relieve the ringing.
But when I make it to the window, I see a sight that tugs a gigantic smile across my face.
"Oh, hell yeah," I murmur.
The muted sounds of hammering drift through the glass as Ford and Knox work the roof. One section of the tarp is gone. Lumber is stacked in the yard. Tools are scattered everywhere. The thwip-thwip-thwip of a nail gun cuts through as the ringing in my ear slowly dies down.
They're already out there.
Relief floods through me so fast that I have to brace myself against the windowsill. The house survived. What the damage is inside, I don't have a clue. But it's still there.
It's still mine.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. "Oh, thank God."
How long has the storm been over? How long was my heat? Where are the guys?
The thought then drags my attention elsewhere as I turn from the window.
My heat.
I squint as I gaze off down the hallway, trying to remember the last thing my mind grabbed onto. But I don't remember much at all. It's all in flashes and still-life snippets. Beau washing me in a bath. Nash making me drink a milkshake. Levi's knot, stuffing me full over and over.
Nash and his dirty talk.
Beau and his soft caresses.
"I want my pack."
Nope.
I shake that mental mess away. I can deal with that another time. And just like that, another question hits me.
Where are my guys?
That pulls me away from the window and I go on the hunt for my phone. It doesn't shock me when I find it stuffed underneath one of the couch cushions. It probably slid there when I was riding Beau's face. The memory makes me blush as my thighs squeeze together.
"You've had enough of that to last you a lifetime, girl," I murmur as I sink back down into my nest.
I try to turn my phone on, hoping it was just turned off, but I'm not that lucky. It's dead as a doornail, so I grunt and groan as I shove myself back to my feet.
"Where the hell's my charger?" I mutter as I pick up pillows and blankets left and right.
Before I find it crammed into one of the pillowcases, of all things.
"Whatever," I murmur as I get my phone plugged in.
The second it finally powers back on, it practically explodes. Notifications flood my screen, ranging from missed calls to text messages and even voicemails.
What?
Who the hell's leaving me voicemails?
"Jesus, how long was I down for?" I murmur as I swipe away the notifications.
I start with the texts first.
Nash: Your heat broke around midnight last night. Food is in the fridge. Heat it up before you try working. That's an order.
A smile tugs at my mouth despite myself.
"Bossy little fuck," I murmur as I scroll through the messages he sent.
Nash: Going into work. Call me if you need anything.
Nash: House is still standing, by the way.
I giggle despite myself. Of course he knew that would be the thing I cared about. Beau sent me texts as well, and his are the next I open.
Beau: Hope you aren't mad I gave the guys your number.
Beau: We just wanted a way to make sure you're okay since we have to head back to work.
Beau: Food's labeled in the fridge because apparently none of us trust you to rest.
Beau: I'll stop by around lunch and check on you.
Warmth spreads through my chest, and it makes me almost eager to open Levi's.
Levi: You're a little minx when you're in heat, Nels. I'm impressed.
My cheeks flush with heat as I scroll through his messages.
Levi: You're still dead asleep. You're cute when you sleep, and cute girls deserve milkshakes. Got you one made up in Nash's freezer.
Levi: Don't leave the apartment without eating. You need the nourishment.
Levi: I'm serious.
Levi: Anyway, I've got appointments to catch up on. I'll stop by tonight and see how you're doing. Please don't hate us, you were begging and we were only so strong.
It's that last line that makes me curious.
"What?" I murmur.
I go back through and read their texts, but only Levi's has any sort of an apology.
There's a warmth in my chest that lingers, and it makes me rub at my sternum.
There's so much pressure there, I realize.
It's taken me so long to wake up and get my bearings that I didn't even notice the sensations crashing around inside of me.
"I want my pack."
The soreness in my neck is what hits me next, and it puts me on my feet in moments. Memories come crashing back to me as I practically lunge for the hallway, making my way toward Nash's guest bathroom.
"Oh, shit. So big. So big. More. Bites. Bite me, Nash. Mark me. Please. I want all of you so bad."
The splintered memories assault me as I flip on the light to the bathroom. I don't even have to approach the mirror to see it, though.
Or rather, them.
I rub my chest absentmindedly as I stare at them.
The marks.
Holy fuck, I've been marked.
"Fill me up. Stuff me full. Mark me, please."
"Oh, no," I whisper as I bring my hand up to the crook of my neck.
This is a disaster. I have a mark on both sides of my neck. I rub my hand aimlessly over my chest, brush against something sensitive, and it makes me rip off my shirt. Well, not my shirt. It smells… I shove it against my face… mmm, like Levi.
I inhale his scent again before I drop the shirt from my face and stare at my bare chest in Nash's mirror.
"Oh. My. God," I murmur.
I'm not just marked. I'm fucking riddled with them. They're everywhere. On my breasts. In my armpit. On the underside of my jaw. Suddenly, the soreness in my body makes a whole lot more sense.
I shuck off my shorts and find my inner thighs glistening with marks that are already healing over.
"What," I whisper to myself.
The warmth in my chest turns into almost panic. I rub at it absently again. I've read about this shit. When bonds snap into place, mated pairs can feel each other's emotions. I feel warmth, sure, but I also feel uneasiness. Nervousness. Wariness.
It's too much feeling.
Too much… everything.
"Oh, God," I choke out.
I'm bonded.
I have to be. Even I can see that there are three distinct types of bite marks all over my body. On my love handles, and the little pooch of my belly. Against my tricep and on my ass. Every time I turn around in the mirror, or spread my legs, or twist in some fashion, I find another mark.
I'm littered in them.
I grip the edge of the sink as my legs grow weak. My reflection stares back at me, and it's the only proof I've got that the panic I feel inside of me is coming from, well, me. My eyes are wide. My skin is paler than normal.
I look terrified.
I told them no. I told Nash no marking, right?
"Mark me. I need it so badly. Please."
My certainty over the line I drew evaporates immediately, because I don't remember a lot. But what I do remember has nothing but begging in it. Multiple times, I begged for their marks.
Apparently.
"Oh my fucking god, what a disaster," I grumble as I rake my hands down my face.
They look fresh, too. Sure, they're already healing, but they're still red and scabbed in some places. This shit didn't happen days ago. It happened recently. Maybe even yesterday.
How long did they hold out against my begging before it became too much?
I hear my phone dinging with messages in the living room, but I don't move away from the mirror. I begged them. Multiple times. That I clearly remember in the patchy blackness of my heat. I'm… mated to them now.
Nash.
Levi.
Beau.
The little voice in my head whispers through the memories assaulting my brain.
Is it really that terrible, being mated to three good guys?
The question comes before I can stop it, and somehow that makes it all worse.
The truth of the matter is, I don't know what happened and that scares the hell out of me.
Aren't Omegas supposed to remember those special moments?
I haven't even gone on dates with any of them!
I mean, sure, I'm friends with them. But there's supposed to be romance and flowers and chocolates and dinners and—
Is this what I even want?
Is this what they want?
The repeated dinging of my phone pulls me out of my head. Panic climbs in my throat. The walls feel like they're closing in, and my hearing clears enough to catch Ford shouting an order to Knox.
The house.
I can work on the house.
Surely, that'll clear my mind.