Unlike the last time I came into this room, soft cotton sheets tightly hug the mattress. There are still too many pillows to count, and in the far corner of the room, stacks of blankets sit neatly folded on an ottoman that also wasn’t there before.
I imagine burrowing beneath those blankets, drowning in their warmth and softness, and his raw, masculine scent. No—all their scents. Orion, Grayson, Silas,andGhost.
My knees weaken, fingers tightening on the doorframe, my pulse hammering as heat floods between my thighs. There’s just something about this room that draws me in. The cedar-paneled walls seem to glow, even in the darkness. Wide beams cross the ceiling above, anchoring the snug space. If I flicked the light switch, I know the lights would be low and gentle. The mattress dominates everything—an island, draped in soft materials, that could hold all five of us, pressed together, skin against skin. It almost feels sentient, the way the room seems to inhale and exhale around me.
Beep, I whisper internally,can a room hold magic?
Of course.
Is this room made of magic?
She takes a second to respond. And then says,Our mates are magic when united. This space belongs to all of us together. Is that not magic?
Heather’s homemade rosemary spray permeates the air, as if Grayson had scrubbed away every last speck of dust overnight,and I try to focus on that and not the image of all four of my mates in one place, in one bed.
Grayson’s neck is twisted at an awkward angle, so I ease one of the pillows beneath his head and attempt to maneuver his body. His weight is too much, but eventually, subconsciously, he cooperates. He shifts, and with a contented sigh, he rolls onto his side and hugs another pillow close to his chest.
Grayson, my bossy, overprotective, dominant alpha, hugging the pillow like it’s a teddy bear.
With a smile, I tiptoe back out of the room.
I get dressed quietly and head downstairs. After tracking down Grayson’s phone, I find some old music to play on low, then start making breakfast. One of my favorite things about being a shifter is the fact that I don’t even notice not having a phone. I couldn’t live without one when I was human.
It’s freeing—a lot of my new life is freeing—in ways I never expected.
When the buzzer goes off on the oven an hour later, I’m unsurprised to find Silas and Orion joining me in the kitchen. Silas kisses my cheek while Orion helps me finish breakfast.
“A frittata?” Orion asks excitedly. He looks cute with the floral potholders on his hands.
“I looked up a recipe online. I hope Hilde doesn’t mind, I used almost all the eggs she brought.”
“She won’t mind,” he says, setting the dish on the table between us. The three of us spoon out breakfast. Silas pours the juice, and we eat together, listening to old music, and it’s wonderfully domestic.
But even that doesn’t take my mind away from where it’s been stuck all night.
After Silas finishes his first serving, he helps himself to seconds, then asks, “You gonna tell us what’s on your mind?”
Instead of answering, I ask, “What did you mean last night? About the coffee and a… nest? What was that?”
“Gray drank that whole pot of coffee.”
Understanding dawns. Unlike alcohol, caffeine affects shifters. Not more than a human, but a pot of coffee in the middle of the night will keep anyone wide awake, shifter or not.
Silas continues, “So he was a little wired. Like he’d been snorting fucking Adderall or some shit. Lunatic.”
“Why…” I don’t even know what to ask.
“Why did Grayson do that?” Orion asks brightly. He refills my plate, then his. Surprisingly, I’m not that hungry, but I still pick at it. He shrugs one shoulder. “Was in a weird mood. He’s mentioned wanting to get the nest ready, and… I don’t know. Things have been quiet. I think he’s feeling restless. We’ve been wanting to finish the nest for a while now, anyway. With the witches, we just hadn’t had time. I’m sorry, Firefly.”
“Gray has no one to yell at. Things are going too smoothly, it’s good he has a project to focus on,” Silas explains. They aren’t wrong. We haven’t heard a peep from the witches, and it’s a little disconcerting considering how hard Deidre tried to track me and Silas down the first time, and now, nothing.
“And what’s a nest, exactly?”
Orion pauses with a forkful of frittata. “Oh… shit. I thought we… That’s right, we were supposed to meet with Doc when we got back, after the compound raid. To talk about your heat, and nesting.”
“Yeah, it’s a little too late to ask Doc about my heat,” I muse candidly. Silas and I told Grayson and Orion everything, including our time in the cabin, a couple of nights ago. It felt good to get it all out there.
Well, we did leave something out. Ghost. We never mentioned him, though Silas and I never actually discussed keeping his connection with all of us a secret. It’s been an entireweek since we got back, and I haven’t caught a single glimpse of Ghost. I guess I thought he’d at least want to spend some time with me, with us, before leaving. According to Silas, he’s been out scouting most days.
