Chapter 36
Maya
I sleep without dreaming. The kind of sleep that pulls you all the way under, the kind I haven’t had in weeks.
My body is heavy. Warm. The blankets I spent hours arranging have settled around me in layers that feel exactly right, and I don’t remember falling asleep but I remember the moment I stopped fighting it.
Bash’s hoodie is still pressed against my chest. My fingers have curled into the fabric sometime during the night.
Adrian’s blanket covers my shoulder, the cedar-amber woven so deep into the knit that I can feel it against my skin even with my eyes closed.
Elias’s blanket lies across my legs, heavy and cool, the mineral edge of his scent grounding everything beneath it.
The room smells like us.
All four of us, woven together until I can’t separate the threads anymore.
Vanilla-citrus from my own skin, cedar and amber from Adrian’s blanket, bergamot and dark spice from Bash’s hoodie, the clean stone-musk of Elias—all of it layered through the nest I built with my own hands until the room feels lived in. Claimed. Safe.
The lamp in the corner casts a soft gold glow across the wall.
I moved it there this morning. It was in the hallway for two days and it bothered me every time I passed it until I finally carried it upstairs and put it exactly where it belonged.
The decorative pillow from the living room couch sits near the foot of the nest. I stole it. I don’t regret it.
My limbs are warm and loose. The exhaustion from a full day of nesting sits in my muscles like something earned. I’ve never slept this deeply. The kind of sleep where you forget your own name.
Then a sound reaches me.
A door, downstairs. The front door.
My body registers it before my brain does. Something shifts beneath my skin, a small current of warmth that I mistake for the blankets until it doesn’t stop.
Another door. The kitchen.
Voices. Muffled, low, familiar in a way that makes my omega lift her head without permission.
They’re home.
The thought lands somewhere instinctive, not conscious. I don’t move. My eyes stay closed. But the warmth beneath my skin spreads, quick and sudden, and my breathing changes before I can catch it.
Footsteps on the stairs.
More than one set. The house creaks in the specific way it does when multiple people move through it at once, and the sound of it reaches me through layers of sleep I can’t quite shake.
Their scents hit the landing.
All three at once.
Cedar-amber from Adrian, warm and grounding. Bergamot and dark spice from Bash, sharp then warm underneath. The cool mineral thread of Elias, clean and controlled.
My omega wakes violently.
The shift happens so fast I don’t have time to brace.
One moment I’m half-asleep and warm beneath the blankets.
The next my skin is burning. My pulse hammers so hard I feel it in my throat, my wrists, behind my knees.
The blankets that felt perfect ten seconds ago are suddenly too heavy, too hot, the fabric dragging against my skin with an intensity that makes me gasp.
I’m overheating.
The room is cool. I know it’s cool. But my body is running too hot to register it, and the scent of all three alphas drifting through the door is making it worse by the second.
Every sense sharpens at once.
The cedar from Adrian’s blanket, suddenly so strong it makes my head swim.
The spiced edge of Bash’s hoodie pressed against my face, now overwhelming.
Elias’s mineral scent from the blanket across my legs, clean and sharp and impossible to ignore.
My own vanilla-citrus flooding the nest around me, blooming so powerfully I can taste it.
My thighs clench.
The movement is involuntary. My body does it before I understand why, and the realization lands with a slow, cold horror that creeps up from my stomach into my chest.
This is different.
The kitchen flare was urgent. The paintball course was intense. But this—
This is heat.
My breathing turns uneven. Each inhale pulls their scents deeper, and each exhale comes out ragged.
My skin feels hypersensitive everywhere the blankets touch, everywhere the air touches, everywhere my own clothes press against me.
The nest I built this morning suddenly doesn’t feel close enough.
The blankets aren’t enough. The hoodies and the scented pillows and the careful arrangement of everything—none of it is close enough to them, and the distance between this bed and the hallway where their footsteps are growing louder feels unbearable.
I’m terrified.
The bedroom door opens.
All three of them enter at once. Adrian first, then Bash, then Elias filling the doorway behind them. They stop.
The room floods with their scents.
My omega surges toward them with a violence that steals my breath. Before I fully think about it, my hand is reaching from the center of the nest, reaching for them, and the sound that comes out of me isn’t a word. It’s instinct, raw and desperate.
My scent spills into the room harder. Vanilla-citrus blooms warm and thick, filling the space between us until the air feels heavy with it.
All three alphas freeze.
I watch it happen in real time. Adrian’s eyes go sharp, protective focus locking into place so fast I can see the shift across his face.
Bash goes completely still for half a second before his body pivots toward practical care, his gaze dropping to the nest, to the blankets, and the space around me.
Elias moves first, crossing the room in three strides to kneel beside my nest.
Their scents hit me harder from close range.
Cedar-amber floods my lungs when Adrian steps closer. Bergamot and spice when Bash moves to the foot of the bed. The cool mineral edge of Elias as he kneels beside me, his hand finding mine.
None of them panic.
That’s what breaks through the fear first. Not one of them looks lost or uncertain or like they’re making this up as they go.
Adrian is already reaching for the water on the side table.
Bash is pulling cooling packs from the bathroom without being asked.
Elias’s hand is warm in mine, his voice low and calm as he speaks.
“Breathe,” he says. “Slowly.”
I try. The breath comes out shaky.
Adrian presses a cool cloth against my forehead. The sensation is so jarring that I make a sound an involuntary noise. His thumb brushes my temple once, and I watch his expression change.
“Her fever’s climbing,” he says turning to look at Bash and Elias. “We need to cool her down.”
Bash is already there. He rearranges the nest around me, pulling the heaviest blanket back and replacing it with something lighter before tucking a cooling pack beneath the pillow near my neck. His movements are quick and practiced, every motion purposeful.
Elias stays beside me.
His hand never leaves mine.
His scent cuts through the heat building beneath my skin, and my omega latches onto it like an anchor.
“Look at me,” he says.
I do. His dark green eyes stay fixed on mine.
“You’re safe,” he says. “We’re here. Whatever you need, we will get it.”
I believe him. It’s impossible not to as I watch Adrian check the electrolyte drinks beside the bed, Bash adjust the nest around me, and Elias hold my hand like he has no intention of letting go.
They prepared for this.
Every cooling pack. Every electrolyte packet.
Every blanket. Every bottle of water. Every phone number taped inside the cabinet door.
They've been ready. They spent days preparing for this moment while I was still afraid to admit it was coming, and the realization hits me so hard my throat tightens.
“It’s happening,” I whisper.
The words come out small. Scared.
Elias’s thumb moves across the back of my hand. “We know,” he says. “We’ve got you.”
Something cracks open in my chest.
The fear doesn’t disappear. But I feel secure enough to stop fighting the heat.
The moment I stop, my body takes over completely. The heat surges through me, filling every space the fear had been occupying, and the shift is so sudden I gasp. My scent floods the room. Vanilla-citrus blooms richer than it’s ever been, and I watch all three alphas react to it at once.
Adrian’s jaw tightens. Bash’s breathing changes. Elias’s hand flexes once around mine.
But none of them give in to their own instincts. Every one of them stays focused on me.
I’m scent-drunk.
The realization comes with a distant, floating clarity. Their scents surround me, and my omega drinks them in hungrily. The distance between my body and theirs suddenly feels impossible to tolerate. I need them closer. I need their naked skin against mine and their hands on my body.
I reach for Elias.
My hand finds his shirt. I pull him roughly towards me, and he comes easily.
His mouth meets mine gently, like he's holding himself back through sheer force of will, and the restraint in it makes me want him more.
I kiss him harder. My hands find his chest, tugging at his shirt, needing it gone, needing his skin on mine immediately.
He helps me. His hands move to the buttons, working them open one by one while his mouth stays on mine, and when the fabric falls away his skin is warm and solid under my palms. I push at his shoulders, urging him back into the nest.
The blankets shift around us. Adrian and Bash step back, giving us space without leaving the room. I still feel them at the edges of the nest, their scents lingering close, but my omega is fixed on Elias with singular focus.
He worships me.
There is no other word for it. He flips our positions, then his mouth moves from my lips to my jaw to the pulse point beneath my ear.
Each kiss is slow and sweet. His hands are steady as they push my shirt up, exposing my stomach, and then his mouth is there too, pressing warm, open kisses across my skin until I’m arching beneath him.
“My omega,” he murmurs against my ribs. The words rumble through his chest into mine, and my core clenches hard enough that I whimper.