Through the bonds, I felt everyone’s agreement. This wasn’t just about giving Sable what she needed. This was about building something together. Making Dane’s house into our home. Creating space that said we were permanent.
Through my sensitivity, I felt Sable’s emotions overwhelm her. Love and gratitude and disbelief and hope all tangled together in a way that made my chest ache.
“I love you,” she whispered. “All three of you. I can’t believe I get to have this.”
“We love you too,” we said together, and through the bonds I felt the truth of it.
We were building something real. Something permanent. Something that would survive whatever came next because we were choosing each other every day instead of just once.
And that was more than enough.
Chapter 25
Sable
The renovation took two weeks.
Dane had been characteristically thorough in his planning. Measurements, material lists, contractor schedules for the electrical work we couldn’t do ourselves. The bonus room off the master bedroom was the perfect size for a nest room, but it needed work to transform it from his rarely-used office into something that would feel safe and cozy.
Beau had handled the structural elements with his usual competent efficiency. Reinforced the windows without making them feel like prison bars. Installed blackout curtains on heavy-duty rods that could support my weight if I needed to climb on them during heat. Added extra insulation to the walls for temperature control and soundproofing.
Dane had upgraded the security features, installing window locks that could be operated from inside the nest, a door that locked from both sides with an emergency release, and a smallpanic button near the bed that would alert all three alphas if I needed them during heat.
Silas had focused on scent circulation, adding a quiet ventilation system that filtered air without removing pack scents, installing essential oil diffusers in case I wanted to layer additional calming scents, and making sure every surface was designed to absorb and hold scent rather than repel it.
Then we’d painted, all four of us working together on a Saturday morning. I’d chosen a soft sage green after looking at dozens of paint samples, wanting something warm but not overwhelming. The color reminded me of early spring, of new growth, of things beginning instead of ending.
And through it all, they’d let me make every decision. Asked my opinion on every choice. Made sure I felt ownership over the space instead of just accepting what they thought I should want.
Now, standing in the doorway of the finished room, I felt something settle in my chest that had been unsettled for five years.
I’d never had a nest room before. Had never been in a pack that valued my omega biology enough to dedicate space to it. Nathan had tolerated my nesting during heats, but he’d made it clear that it was a biological inconvenience rather than something to celebrate.
But my three alphas approached the nest room like it was the most important room in the house.
“What do you want for the finishing touches?” Dane asked one evening as we stood in the newly painted room, looking at fabric swatches and furniture catalogs. “We’ve done the structure. Now it’s about making it feel like yours.”
“I need it to feel cozy, not claustrophobic,” I said, running my hand along the soft sage green wall. “Warm. Safe. Like being held.”
“Lighting is important,” Beau said. “We installed the overhead lights with dimmers, but you’ll probably want lamps too. Multiple options for different moods.”
“And scent items,” Silas reminded me, his sensitivity already reading my emotional response to the space. “Traditional nests have items that carry pack scent. We should each contribute something.”
“I want that,” I said immediately. “I want the nest to smell like all of us. Like pack.”
The day the nest room was officially finished, I made them all wait outside.
“Okay,” I said, standing in the empty nest room while my three alphas waited in the doorway. “Give me everything you brought.”
They’d each prepared scent items like I’d asked. Beau handed me his oldest, softest fire department hoodie, the one he wore on days off because it was broken in and comfortable. Dane contributed a thermal blanket from his time in the military, faded and worn but carrying his scent like memory. Silas offered his favorite flannel shirt and a knitted blanket his grandmother had made, both items he’d worn and slept with enough that they were saturated with vanilla and cardamom.
“Thank you,” I said, holding their contributions carefully. “Now let me work. Come back in an hour.”
“You want us to leave?” Beau asked, surprised.
“I want to build the nest myself first. Then I’ll invite you in. That’s how this works. The omega builds the nest, arranges everything to feel right, and then pack is invited into the space.” I looked at each of them. “Trust me.”
“We trust you,” they said together, and filed out, closing the door behind them.
