I took it, pressed my face into it, inhaled deeply. Pine and woodsmoke and the essence that was distinctly Harper. "Yes." The word came out broken, grateful, my arms clutching the pillow like a lifeline. "Please. More."
Remy scent-marked three pillows in quick succession, grinning when I clutched them to my chest like treasures. Silas was more deliberate, choosing just one pillow—the one closest to where Gumbo had resettled in the doorway—and pressing his wrist to it slowly, thoroughly, his gaze on mine the whole time.
When they were done, the nest smelled like all of us. Like pack.
I was still crying a little, still purring a lot, and when Remy pulled me down onto the pile of pillows and blankets, I didn't resist. Harper settled behind me, his broad chest warm against my back. Silas took the edge of the nest, one hand resting near my ankle, his body angled toward the door like a guardian. Remy curled into my front, his forehead pressed to mine, his amber eyes soft and close.
"First cuddle pile," he murmured, his breath warm against my lips, one hand coming up to brush a tear from my cheek. "How am I doing?"
"Terrible." I laughed through my tears, the sound watery but real. "You talk too much."
"You love it." His smile was real, unguarded, beautiful, crinkling the corners of his amber eyes.
The purr hadn't stopped. If anything, it had gotten louder, and now there was an addition—a chirp, high and bright, that escaped my throat when Harper's hand settled on my hip. An Omega sound I'd never made before, pure contentment given voice.
"That sound," Harper rumbled against my hair, his chest vibrating with his own response, his arm tightening around my waist. "Make it again."
I chirped again, and all three of them rumbled in response, and suddenly I was laughing and crying at the same time, overwhelmed by the rightness of it all. The instinct came over me without warning—ancient, undeniable. I tilted my head back,baring my throat, offering the most vulnerable part of myself to three Alphas who had already proved they wouldn't hurt me.
Harper made a sound low in his chest and pressed his face to my neck first, breathing deeply, his lips brushing the sensitive skin but not biting. Just scenting. Just claiming in the gentlest way possible. Then Remy, nuzzling into the other side, his nose tracing a path from my jaw to my collarbone. And finally Silas, who leaned over to press his forehead to the curve of my shoulder, breathing me in like I was air.
"Pack," I whispered, and the word felt like a vow, like a prayer, like coming home.
Harper's answer was a rumble against my throat, wordless agreement that I felt more than heard. Remy pressed his lips to my collarbone, breathing the word back to me in French—"Meute"—soft and reverent. Silas didn't speak. He just pressed closer, and that was answer enough.
Gumbo watched from the doorway, ancient and unimpressed, but he didn't hiss or growl or try to eat anyone. In his own way, that was a blessing.
We stayed like that for hours—drifting in and out of sleep, shifting positions, trading soft words and softer touches. At some point, Remy hummed a melody I didn't recognize, and Harper's breathing deepened into sleep, and Silas kept watch even as his body relaxed into the pile.
My nest. My pack. My home.
For the first time since Aunt Marguerite died, I wasn't alone anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Artemis
Iwoke up surrounded by warmth. For a disorienting moment, I couldn't remember where I was—then the scents hit me. All of them mingled together, wrapped around me like the softest blanket I'd ever known.
My nest. My Alphas. My pack.
Harper was behind me, his broad chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of deep sleep, one heavy arm draped across my waist. Remy was curled against my front, his face slack and peaceful, curls falling across his forehead. Silas—I turned my head slightly to find him sitting at the edge of the nest, back against the wall, watching the door. Even in sleep, he'd positioned himself as guardian.
The fairy lights were still on, casting everything in soft gold. Through the window, dawn was just starting to pink the sky. I lay there for a long moment, letting myself feel it. The rightness of it. The way their scents had mixed with mine overnight until we smelled like one unit. Pack.
Then my bladder made itself known, and the spell broke. I extracted myself carefully, sliding out from under Harper's arm, stepping over Remy's sprawled legs. Silas's eyes opened the moment I moved—pale and alert, no trace of sleep in them.
"Bathroom," I whispered, and he nodded once, settling back against the wall, his vigilance unbroken even now. By the time I came back, Harper was stirring, and Remy was making disgruntled noises into a pillow. I stood in the doorway, watching them wake up in my space, and warmth bloomed in my chest.
"Coffee," Remy mumbled, his voice rough with sleep, face still half-buried in a pillow. "Need coffee. Will die without coffee."
"You're not going to die." I crossed to the nest and nudged his shoulder with my knee, fighting back a smile at his dramatics. "But I'll make some if you three can manage to get downstairs without falling."
Harper sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face, his hair sticking up on one side in a way that made my heart clench. He looked younger like this—rumpled and soft-eyed, before he put his armor back on. "What time is it?" He blinked against the early light, still half-asleep.
"Early." I headed for the door, pausing at the threshold to look back at them, my hand resting on the frame. "Come down when you're ready. We need to talk about Crescent Holdings."
That woke them up. All three of them.
