41. Theo
Theo
Callie has been in the nest long enough for everything to smell like her.
Her cardigan lies beneath my cheek, warm from where she wore it this morning, and her hair is spread across the pillow in a pale tangle that keeps catching around my fingers.
She is supposed to be reading, but she has not turned the page in several minutes because I keep pulling strands across my mouth and watching them slip free.
“You are making progress impossible,” she says, though she is smiling when she looks down at me.
I push closer until my face rests against the soft curve of her stomach. Her dress has ridden high enough that my knee touches bare thigh beneath the blankets, and she makes a small pleased sound when I rub my cheek over the knit covering her waist.
The nest has grown since breakfast. I brought in another blanket from the linen closet, two pillows from the guest room, and one of Sloane’s shirts that still smells like cedar beneath the detergent.
Callie added the scarf Idris gave her, folding it near my head without asking whether it belonged there, and the sight of it beside Dash’s old sweater made something quiet settle inside me.
Dash sits on the floor with his back against the bed, a book open across one knee and a mug of coffee cooling near his hand. He has read the same page twice because Callie keeps reaching over the edge of the mattress to run her fingers through his hair.
Every time she touches him, his shoulders loosen.
Callie reaches down again, and Dash turns his face enough to kiss the inside of her wrist. The movement is soft, almost absentminded, but her smile changes. It warms and deepens, spreading over her face before she returns her attention to me.
I lift myself onto one elbow and touch the corner of her mouth. “There.”
“There what?”
“You smiled differently.”
Her hazel-green eyes narrow slightly, though the expression has no sharpness in it. She catches my hand and kisses the center of my palm before folding my fingers against her cheek.
“You spend too much time studying everyone,” she says.
I let my thumb brush one of her freckles. “I like knowing when you are happy.”
Her face softens beneath my hand. She leans down and kisses me slowly, her mouth warm from the tea Dash brought upstairs, and the book in her other hand slides unnoticed onto the blankets.
The kiss stays gentle at first. Callie’s fingers move into my hair, scratching lightly over my scalp while I curl closer and press my knee farther between hers.
The sweetness under my skin has been building since yesterday, but here, with her mouth against mine and Dash’s quiet presence beside the bed, it feels almost pleasant.
Callie tastes like honey and black tea. Her scent has settled deep into the nest, warm linen, rain, and the soft floral note that belongs only to her. I breathe her in until my chest loosens and the last pieces of Garrett’s voice stop moving through my thoughts.
Dash closes his book. I hear the quiet movement of the cover and glance toward him, but he does not interrupt us. He lifts his coffee, watches Callie’s hand tighten in my hair, and lets the corner of his mouth soften.
Callie catches me looking and presses another kiss to my lips. “Stay with me.”
I turn back immediately. Her thumb moves over my cheek, and when she kisses me again, I open for her without hesitation.
The warmth inside me shifts.
It rolls lower, heavier than it was a few minutes ago, and my body tightens around the sudden ache. Callie feels the change before I make a sound. Her mouth slows against mine, and her hand leaves my hair to rest carefully against the side of my neck.
“Too much?” she asks.
I shake my head and pull her closer. The movement drags my body against her thigh, and relief sparks hard enough to make my breath break.
Callie watches my face. Her eyes move over me with the same attention she gives everything she loves, and the thought of her stopping makes panic rise faster than the heat.
“Do you want me to stay or go?” she asks quietly.
The question hurts even though I understand why she asks it. I can hear the old room inside her voice, the place where everyone decided she should not be near me and convinced her I had agreed.
“Stay,” I say before the fear can close my throat. My fingers tighten in her dress, holding the fabric against her hip. “Please stay.”
Callie’s expression folds around the answer. She bends over me and kisses me with enough feeling that my chest aches for an entirely different reason.
“I’m staying, Star.”
The name settles over me like another blanket. I wrap both arms around her and pull until she is half over me, her soft body fitting against mine while her mouth moves from my lips to my jaw.
Dash shifts beside the bed, though he remains close. His hand comes up to rest against Callie’s back, steadying her where she leans over me, and the contact makes the nest feel fuller instead of crowded.
Callie kisses beneath my ear. Her mouth drifts over the side of my neck, avoiding the temporary bite while her fingers slide beneath the hem of my shirt. I shiver when her palm touches my stomach, and the ache inside me sharpens again.
My hands begin moving without enough thought behind them. I pull at the back of her dress, stroke over her hips, and reach beneath the soft fabric until my fingers find warm skin.
Callie makes a breathless sound against my throat. She lets me touch her for several seconds, her mouth still moving slowly over my skin, before she lifts her head and looks at me.
I try to pull her back down.
She smiles, flushed and soft, then catches my wrist before I can reach farther beneath her dress. “As much as I want to be the one to help you, Star, you need an Alpha.”
The need inside me twists at the word. I whine and tug her closer, unwilling to lose the warmth of her body now that she has promised to stay.
Callie laughs softly and presses her forehead against mine. The sound is full of affection rather than amusement, and she kisses me again when I make another frustrated noise.
Dash sets his book aside and rises from the floor. He rests one hand against the back of my leg, grounding rather than claiming, while he studies my face and the tension gathering through my body.
“Let me go get one before you hurt yourself,” he says.
Callie’s laugh warms my mouth this time. She kisses me once more, slow enough that I follow when she pulls away.
“One?” she asks Dash, still smiling against my lips.
Dash’s hand remains steady on my leg. “I suspect bringing both will be safer for everyone.”
There is no joke in his voice, only warmth and the quiet certainty that he knows what I need without pretending he is the one who should provide it. He looks at me and waits until I nod.
“Bring them,” I say. The words come more easily than they once would have, though heat makes them rough. “But Callie stays.”
Her hand cups my face. “I’m right here.”
Dash leans over the edge of the bed and kisses the top of Callie’s head before brushing his knuckles gently along my calf. Then he leaves the bedroom, keeping the door open behind him.
The empty doorway does not frighten me. Callie remains wrapped around me, and the section of her bracelet that belongs to Dash begins to glow before his footsteps reach the stairs.
I touch the light with one finger.
“He is telling you he is still close,” I say.
Callie looks down at the bracelet and smiles. “He knows what that feels like now.”
Her mouth returns to mine before I can answer. She lowers herself beside me and pulls me against her chest, one hand sliding through my hair while the other moves over my back in slow circles.
I keep touching her. I need the proof of her beneath my hands, the softness of her stomach and hips, the curve of her breast beneath my palm.
She does not turn my wanting into something embarrassing or dangerous.
She kisses me deeper when my hand trembles and guides my face back to hers when my attention starts breaking apart.
My temporary bite begins to pulse, and the ache in my body deepens until I can't find a position that helps. I press against Callie, then pull away, then reach for her again because every movement feels wrong unless she is touching me.
She follows without complaint. Her fingers move over my face, my neck, and my shoulders, keeping me attached to her while my scent thickens around us.
“I need them,” I whisper.
“They’re coming.” Callie brushes my hair away from my damp forehead.
Sloane’s scent reaches the room before he does. Cedar rolls through the open doorway, warm and deep enough that my body reacts immediately. Idris' quieter scent follows beneath it, dark spice and clean fabric, and the ache inside me tightens with enough force to pull a sound from my throat.
Callie gathers me closer. She kisses my temple while footsteps move quickly through the hall, and her bracelet lights along both corresponding sections before Sloane appears in the doorway.
His gaze finds me first, then Callie wrapped around me. Nothing in his face suggests she should move. He comes to the bed and puts one hand on Callie’s shoulder before touching me. His thumb strokes the side of her neck, and he bends to kiss her hair while his other palm settles against my calf.
“Tell me what is happening, pretty boy,” he says.
I turn toward his hand. “Spike.”
“I can smell it.” Sloane’s touch moves slowly up my leg, stopping at my knee. “Do you want me in the nest?”
“Yes.” I swallow and look past him toward Idris. “Both.”
Idris enters without rushing. He takes in the rumpled blankets, the heat in my face, Callie’s hand at the back of my neck, and Dash standing just beyond the doorway.
Dash gives him a brief explanation. “It started quickly. He stayed clear enough to ask for them and for Callie.”
Idris' eyes move to mine. “Are you still clear enough to answer me?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you want us?”
I tighten my arm around Callie’s waist. “I want her touching me.”