Page 131 of Claimed By the Band

He looks down at the incriminating slice in his hand like he's actually thinking about denying it, and Jordan snickers.

Dante and Asher sulk but comply, though not without dramatic sighs and backward glances at the food that make Jordan laugh even harder. She's the only one I trust in my kitchen besides Damon, who actually knows how to cook but is currently too engrossed in his book to bother.

I watch her move around the space with easy familiarity, knowing exactly where everything is now. She fits here so perfectly, like she was always meant to be part of us. The way she balances out the pack dynamic, softening our rough edges while adding her own ferocity.

"What?" she asks, catching me staring.

"Nothing," I say, pulling her close for another kiss. "Just thinking about how much I love you."

Her cheeks flush that delightful shade of pink but she doesn't look away anymore when we say things like that. Progress. "I love you too," she murmurs against my lips.

The food is almost ready when Silas appears in the doorway—after everything's pretty much finished, of course—his green eyes dark with hunger that likely has little to do with actual food. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's noticed the change in our omegas' scents. "Need any help?" he asks innocently.

"Nope," I say firmly. "Out. Food first, then whatever you're thinking about. I don't need the kitchen turning into an orgy."

He smirks but retreats, and I catch Jordan's scent blossom slightly at the promise in his eyes.

As we serve up plates of stir-fry and rice, I can't help but marvel at how natural this feels now. The way we all gravitate toward each other, the casual touches and shared looks. The bonds humming with contentment and love.

Jordan takes her usual spot between Asher and Dante, while I sit across from her with Silas and Damon flanking me. The conversation flows easily as we eat—Asher telling stories from rehearsal, Dante describing his latest rescue dog success, Silas discussing new song ideas. Damon is quiet, as usual, but I can tell from the softness in his eyes he's enjoying just drinking it all in.

Eventually, long after everyone has gone in for seconds—and in Dante's case, thirds—Silas clears his throat, setting down his empty plate. "So," he says casually, "we should probably talk about nesting supplies soon. Since you're both close."

Jordan's cheeks flush again, but Asher just grins. "Oh! There's this huge new store uptown I've been wanting to try," he says eagerly. "It's four entire floors."

"All for nesting?" Jordan asks in disbelief, her dessert fork frozen halfway to her mouth.

"Yep!" Asher grins. "They've got everything—blankets, pillows, scent diffusers, comfort items. We should all go."

"All of us?" Jordan glances around the table uncertainly.

"Of course all of us," Dante says firmly. "You can both pick out whatever you want, and we'll take care of everything else."

"Besides," Damon adds with a gentle smile, "we need to know what makes you both comfortable. What scents and textures you prefer now that we've got a chance to get you through a heat properly."

I catch the way Jordan's scent softens at their words, at the simple acceptance and support. Even after everything, I can tell she still sometimes expects rejection or judgment. But we're slowly teaching her that she never has to hide those parts of herself from us. And that being an omega doesn't make her weaker or a burden like the cult taught her. It makes her precious.

"Tomorrow?" Silas suggests. "We don't have any commitments, and it's better to be prepared early."

Jordan and Asher exchange looks, having one of those silent conversations they're so good at now. Finally, Jordan nods. "Tomorrow works."

"Perfect," I say, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "We'll make a day of it."

As the others start discussing logistics and trading playful jabs about Asher's previous nesting habits, including the Great Corduroy Pillow Disaster that will live in infamy, I take a moment to just drink in the scene. My pack, whole and happy and safe. Our omegas happily preparing to nest together for the first time.

It's more perfect than I ever imagined possible.

Jordan catches my eye across the table and smiles that soft, real smile that's just for us. I smile back, my chest tight with love for this incredible woman who fought so hard to find her way to us. For both our omegas, who make our pack complete.

I can't imagine anything more perfect than this.

45

ASHER

Ican barely contain my excitement as we pull into the parking lot of the Happy Nest, the massive four-story nesting supply store that just opened up downtown. Jordan sits beside me in the SUV, her scent tinged with a mix of nervousness and curiosity.

"It's huge," she breathes, staring up at the gleaming glass building.

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