I take it. Press it to my face.Delicious.
"Thank you," I say, and my voice comes out smaller than I mean it to.
Something shifts in his expression. "Take your time, Beth."
I shut the door again.
Mason's shirt goes on the left side. I tuck it under the pillow, arranging it so the collar is exposed, so I can turn my head and breathe him in. Cedar and woodsmoke. My hands are trembling.
Knox's shirt gets woven into the right side, threaded through the blankets so his scent bleeds through the layers. His hoodie goes at the foot for extra warmth, extra scent, extrahim. I press my nose into the fabric and a sound comes out of me, half purr, half whimper, that I'm grateful no one is here to witness.
Arthur's shirt becomes the headboard. I drape it across the pillows I've stacked three high so the cigar leaf wraps around everything else.
Now the walls.
I build them from blankets and cushions, raising the edges until it becomes a cocoon. Not so high I feel trapped. Just high enough to feel held. The wool blanket forms the left wall. The fleece covers the right. Cushions fill the gaps, wedged into place.
I crawl into the center and something inside me releases.
Yes. This. Here.
The nest smells like all of them—Cedar, eucalyptus, rosemary—and my omega brain goes briefly quiet for the first time all night.
I adjust one more pillow. Move Knox's shirt half an inch to the left. Smooth a wrinkle from the base layer, then sink into the center of it and breathe.
For about forty-five seconds, this is enough. The nest. The scents. The cocoon.
Then the heat comes back like a door getting kicked in.
My skin goes tight. My breath goes shallow. The warmth concentrates low in my belly and radiates outward, and the nest that was everything thirty seconds ago is suddenly missing the only things that actually matter.
I grab the edge of the blanket wall. Squeeze.
Alpha. Need. Now.
I look down at myself and pull my wedding dress over my head and toss it somewhere beyond the walls, and find the oversized t-shirt I sleep in. It hits mid-thigh.
"Alphas," I call.
My voice is thick and rough and barely mine.
My door almost immediately opens.
Mason first. Then Knox. Then Arthur, ducking slightly through the frame.
They stop and take in the nest. The walls. The blankets layered just so. Their shirts woven through the fabric. Me...
Mason's lips part.
Knox's hand grips the doorframe.
Arthur makes a low sound in the back of his throat that sends electricity straight down my spine.
"I'm ready," I say.
39
Beth
