Chapter 46
Lark
The bathroom is quiet. Too quiet.
The soft hum of the vent, the faint drip of water somewhere in the pipes. None of it fills the space the way my alphas do. I’ve grown used to them. Their sounds. Someone’s always talking. Usually Graham. Silas’ soft snore when he’s really tired. Saint humming to himself.
It’s the first time I’ve been alone since Saturday afternoon, when Cammie left me standing in front of this same mirror, flushed and excited and so sure I knew what was coming.
I didn’t.
I run the brush through my damp hair, working out the last tangles before gathering it at the nape of my neck. The motion is slow, familiar. Something I do without thinking.
But it feels different, somehow. Like I’m waiting for someone to come up behind me. For warm hands to settle on my hips. For breath at my ear. For one of them, any of them, to close the space.
I used to love being alone. Craved it, even. Not that I don’t like people, but sometimes I just need time to myself. Quiet mornings. Long showers. Space to think, to breathe, to just be me.
Now it feels wrong. Not bad or suffocating. Just… incomplete.
My eyes lift to the mirror. And there they are. Three marks. Three bonds.
Silas’s is already fading at the edges. Nearly healed. I set the brush down slowly, my fingers lifting to trace it. The moment I do, something settles deep in my chest.
Strong. Certain. Unshakable.
Silas.
It’s the same feeling I’ve had since the moment he bit me. Like I didn’t know what it felt like to stand on solid ground before our bond. There’s no hesitation in it. No doubt. Silas’ love for me is just as unmovable as the mountain I always accuse him of being.
I swallow, my fingers lingering before drifting higher.
Graham’s.
The skin is still tender, the mark darker, newer.
I brush it lightly, and the response is immediately warm and bright.
It hums with his adoration for me. It floods through me so fast I have to brace my hand against the counter.
Everything he feels for me is pure. Open and unfiltered.
Graham’s love doesn’t question itself. Doesn’t hold back. Doesn’t second guess.
A small, breathless laugh slips from my lips. Of course that’s what he feels like. My chest squeezes, not from pain, but from how much of him there is. How willingly he gives it.
I close my eyes for a second, letting it wash through me before my hand moves again to the other side.
Saint’s.
I hesitate. Just for a heartbeat. Not because I’m unsure. Because I’m not. But because I already know this one is going to undo me.
My fingers press gently against the mark.
And, oh.
It’s deeper than I expected. Not loud or sharp. But deep. Like his feelings for me have been buried and they finally surfaced. A treasure he’s placed, deliberately, into my hands.
Precious.
The word forms before I can stop it.
His love is not fragile. Not delicate. It’s sacred. To him, I’m not just wanted. Not just claimed.
I’m chosen.
I press my palm flat against my chest, trying to steady the sudden rush of it. Of all of them. The way the bonds overlap and blend and settle.
We didn’t get the night we planned. The slow build. The anticipation. The space to feel every second of it the way we thought we would. But I remember.
Not everything. The heat blurred so much of it. It turned time into something slippery and strange. But I remember those moments. The shift of emotions. The snap of our connection. The way each bond locked into place. The way it felt like something… aligned.
I open my eyes, meeting my own reflection. My lips part slightly, my fingers still resting over Saint’s mark.
I was so afraid of heat. Of losing control. Of the pain. Of being too much. Instead, I got them. All of them. I was searching for a way to navigate the worst part of being an omega and discovered something bigger. Complete love for my alphas. The reverence and care they give to me.
My gaze softens as I take in the woman staring back at me. Heat didn’t wreck me. It will never wreck me. Because I’m whole. Partnered and connected forever with alphas who protect me. Care for me. Love me.
A quiet knock sounds at the door, followed by the soft creak of it opening.
“Little bird?”
My heart lifts immediately. I turn, already moving toward him. “I’m coming,” I say.
The door swings open wider, and there he is. Silas, leaning against the frame, loose navy sweats slung low on his hips, hair still damp from the shower, beard slightly overgrown from three days in the nest.
For a second, I just look at him. Then I step forward and walk straight into his arms. They close around me instantly.
“I missed you,” he murmurs into my hair. Then, quieter, almost amused, “How is that even possible?”
I laugh softly, pressing my cheek to his chest. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
He huffs, squeezing me once before loosening his hold just enough to guide me back toward the bedroom.
When we step into the nest, I see the guys have been busy while I showered. Clean sheets. Fresh comforter. The windows cracked just enough to let in soft afternoon light. The room smells like us, but calmer now.
Graham is already stretched out on the bed, glasses pushed high on the bridge of his nose, his attention fixed on his laptop. I slip from Silas’s arms and climb onto the bed beside him, leaning in to press a kiss to the inked equation along his shoulder.
“What are you reading?” I ask.
He glances at me immediately, softening, then leans in to press a quick kiss to my forehead. “Speed of healing in bond marks,” he says. “There’s some conflicting data depending on timing and—”
A low groan sounds behind me.
Saint. I feel him before I see him, his chest pressing warm against my back, ginger and molasses surrounding me as his arms slide around my waist. He pulls me close.
“Don’t get him started, princess,” he mutters into my neck. “He’ll never stop.”
I giggle, tipping my head back against his shoulder. “I like it when Graham tells me about what he’s reading.”
Graham huffs. “Yeah, didn’t you say she has a thing for intelligent men?”
I chuckle, warmth blooming in my chest as I think back to messages that started all this. Back to when Saint was just CoffeeGuy.
Saint snorts softly. “She likes all kinds of intelligence,” he says. “Even street smarts.”
I turn my head just enough to catch his eye, smiling. “I do like intelligence,” I say. “In all forms.”
Silas shifts into the nest at my feet. His hands slide over my bare legs.
I reach for them, all of them, pulling everyone closer together until there’s no space left between us.
“But mostly…” My voice softens. “I love you.”