Page 185 of Beasts of Mine

Home.

My chest tightened as I stared at the ceiling, where shadows from the courtyard shifted faintly across old stone. Tavian's breathing had slowed against my leg, Malek continued running his fingers lazily through my hair, and Luca's hand rested warm against my waist with his thumb occasionally moving over my skin.

Home shouldn't have scared me as much as it did, but I'd spent most of my adult life becoming very good at leaving. I knew how to pack efficiently, live out of cases, sleep in rooms that weren't mine, finish an assignment, and move on to the next one. Even my apartment had mostly been where I returned between trips, not somewhere I had ever been afraid to miss.

This was different, and not because I suddenly wanted to stop leaving. I didn't. There were still places I wanted to photograph, assignments I wanted to take, flights I hadn't booked, forests I'd never walked through, and animals I'd only ever seen through somebody else's lens.

But lying between three purring Alphas in a nest I'd deliberately built with my own hands, with my cameras waiting across the room and tomorrow's work still part of my plans, I realized I'd found somewhere I already wanted to come back to before I'd even left.

That was the part that scared me.

I meant it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

EVIE

I leaned closer to the laptop anyway and enlarged the photograph until the bird's head filled most of the screen, checking the fine line around its eye, the green feathers sweeping over its crown, and the tiny beads of water still clinging to the branch beneath its feet. Everything that needed to be crisp was crisp, while the stream behind it softened into green and brown without competing for attention. The next photograph held up just as well, and the one after that caught the kingfisher half turned toward the water with enough open space along one side that it would work nicely if the image ever ended up in an editorial layout.

“Much better.” I murmured to myself as I moved through the sequence, satisfaction spreading through me when the fourth frame survived the same obsessive inspection without giving me anything worth complaining about.

The reshoot had been worth the extra trip. It was mildly irritating that the kingfisher had been right about me clicking too much, but I was never going to tell him that. I had enough animals criticizing my professional habits without encouraging them.

My station worktable looked considerably more lived in than it had when I'd first arrived. Two external drives sat beside my laptop, one actively backing up the morning's files while the other rested inside a padded sleeve. My notebook lay open beside them, its pages covered in location notes, weather conditions, species sightings, and several lines I'd crossed through after reviewing the latest photographs. A charging battery blinked beside my elbow, damp socks hung from the back of the chair because apparently I had reached a point in my career where that counted as acceptable office decor, and a half-empty bottle of water sat close enough that Mara couldn't accuse me of ignoring it.

There were still several weeks left on the assignment, so nothing about my professional routine had started winding down yet. I had locations left to revisit, species I wanted better coverage of, weather-dependent shots I couldn't schedule until the forest cooperated, and more than enough work to keep me busy. That part of my life remained completely normal, while everything outside of it had quietly changed without me noticing exactly when.

I had slept at the temple the night before and woken with Malek's arm wrapped around my waist while Tavian's foot was wedged firmly against my calf, which apparently counted as his contribution to sharing the nest. Luca had somehow managed to sleep along the outer edge without disturbing anything I'd arranged, though the moment I tried to get dressed quietly, he'd opened one green-gold eye and informed me that fruit was wrapped near the worktable for breakfast before immediately going back to sleep.

By seven, I had been back at the station. By eight, Mara had my intended route for the day, and by nine I had been standing in vegetation high enough to soak my pants while photographing tanagers. Around noon, a capuchin had informed me that my hat was ugly, and by midafternoon I had returned with mud halfway up one leg and enough usable photographs to justify being filthy. Somewhere between washing my hands and opening the kingfisher files, I'd started mentally arranging the rest of my evening without giving it much thought. I needed to finish sorting two folders, make the six o'clock check-in even though I was currently sitting within shouting distance of Mara, eat an actual dinner instead of whatever fruit Tavian decided counted as a meal, and then go back to the temple.

My fingers stopped on the trackpad because I hadn't asked myself whether I was going back. There had been no debate about whether sleeping there made sense with tomorrow's route, no attempt to justify another night away from the station, and no wondering whether the men expected me. I'd simply included the temple in my plans the same way I might think about returning to my apartment after errands when I was home between assignments.

Work, dinner, temple. I hadn't even questioned the last part.

I leaned back in the chair and rubbed my fingers absently along the side of my neck, where my gland felt more sensitive than it had any reason to be. Honey and jasmine warmed faintly around me, softened by the blockers I still took on schedule but noticeable now that I'd learned how much my scent changed around the men.

I knew what waited at the temple, and apparently some part of me had stopped treating it like another interesting place I happened to spend time. My nest was there, along with Malek's charcoal shirt tucked near the pillows because cedar had somehow become something my sleeping brain wanted close enough to breathe in. Luca's blanket had been rearranged enough times that I could tell when someone else moved even part of it, while Tavian's seed and shell rested on the low shelf where I'd deliberately placed them. I'd originally insisted I wasn't collecting anything, yet that argument was becoming harder to defend every time I added something else to the room.

Their scents were everywhere, and so were their purrs. Three Alpha bodies took up a ridiculous amount of space when they all slept with me, yet the nest felt more complete with them inside it instead of crowded. Nothing was forcing me back there, and that mattered. My assignment still came first whenever work required it, Mara still knew my routes and expected return times, and I continued sleeping at the station whenever my schedule made that more practical. None of the men showed up demanding explanations when I did, nor had they tried to turn courtship into a claim on every hour I wasn't actively working.

My Omega instincts clearly liked the routine too, but wanting familiar Alpha scents around me and deciding where I spent my nights were two different things.

I was going back because I wanted to.

The soft chime from my laptop pulled my attention toward the corner of the screen. I expected another backup notification, but instead an email banner appeared with a name I recognized immediately.

Caroline Mercer — Wild Terrain

For half a second, I assumed something had gone wrong with the emergency cover photographs, but the issue was already far enough along that nobody should suddenly discover I'd somehow sent them the photographs. I opened the message and felt that concern disappear before I finished the first paragraph.

Caroline thanked me again for helping with the replacement cover material and explained that the images had gone over extremely well with the editorial team, especially considering how little notice I'd had. The final layout had apparently come together better than they'd expected after the licensing problem, and she'd kept my contact information because another project had recently received approval.

By the second paragraph, every part of my photographer brain had taken over.

Wild Terrain was preparing a three-month field feature in Patagonia focused on predator-prey relationships and changing habitats across several protected regions. The primary photography would center on pumas, guanacos, Andean condors, and supporting wildlife, with time divided between two established field bases and several shorter remote shoots depending on weather, animal movement, and the conservation teams already working there.

I read the species list twice as excitement built with every detail. Pumas moving through open mountain country, condors circling above cliffs, guanaco herds crossing landscapes completely different from the humid green surrounding me now. The project included field access with local trackers, conservation teams, and researchers who already knew the territories.