Page 91 of Break Me Knot

I thought I knew what scent-matches were. I knew they were rare and important, but this…this is everything I understand it to be because I feel every bit of it. Adrian's smoked cedar wraps around my sugared lilac like they’re made for each other –because they are. Zane's citrus adds sparkle and life to mine, creating something entirely new and magical. Cole's pine and leather grounds us all, creating depth and stability, completing the perfect cord of our combined scents. This is so much more than I knew.

That’s why I can read them through their scents. How I understand what they feel and think. My body recognized its perfect matches, reaching for the harmony even when my mind didn’t catch on.

I read the words out loud, testing them on my tongue. “True scent matches are considered the pinnacle of compatibility. These pairs, or in rare cases groups, are believed to be souls meant to find each other across time and space. The bond between true scent matches is unbreakable once formed, creating a connection so deep it becomes part of each mate's fundamental identity.”

Joy bubbles up inside me like champagne, making me dizzy with happiness. This is why everything is so right with them. Why they resonate in my soul. Why every touch is like coming home, why every kiss is destiny.

I press the book to my chest as tears of pure happiness roll down my cheeks. We're not just compatible. We're not just in love.

We're true matches.

The rarest and most precious of all bonds.

The universe itself says we belong together.

I close the book gently and close my eyes, basking in the knowledge that I'm exactly where I'm meant to be. With exactly who I'm meant to be with.

My true matches.

My destiny.

My forever.

My nest in the closet is suddenly too small, too confined for what we're becoming. Being on the floor with my ratty blanket is not good enough for them. Not for my scent-destined mates. Not good enough for me either. Because I deserve the best, just as my mates do.

I push open the doors and step into the nest room proper. The space calls to me with possibility—low ceilings, soft light, room enough for four. Room enough for our future. I already envision soft blankets and plush pillows, a space big enough for morning cuddles and midnight conversations. A true den that's good enough for my mates.

I wrap my arms around myself, breathing in the mingled scents of my alphas.My alphas.I can say that now as a piece of my soul clicks into place. I am not just surviving anymore.

I am building.

I am becoming.

The broken pieces of me haven't just been glued back together; they've been transformed into something stronger, more beautiful for having been broken. When my mates return, I'll show them how their love has transformed me. How their strength has become my strength. How the scared omega who once hid in a closet has found her voice, her power, and her pack.

I turn to the bags and boxes that line the wall in my bedroom and reach for the first bag, the expensive paper crinkling under my touch. These gifts were chains before. Debt I could never repay. Now I understand, my alphas’ need to provide is as natural as my need to nest and nurture. My heart swells as I recognize this truth: they want to give because they love, not to trap or own. Each gift is an expression of their devotion, their instinctive drive to care for their omega… their only omega.

Me.

I pull out a cashmere sweater in soft lavender, the material making me tingle with pleasure. The fabric is cloud-soft as I slip it over my head. I find fuzzy socks that make me wiggle my toes in delight. There's a pair of leggings that are a second skin, perfectly stretchy but supportive. A small note falls from the tissue paper: “For comfort, Baby Girl. P.S. And easy access.” The joke makes me chuff.

The next bag reveals nest supplies that make my omega whimper with joy. Plush blankets in deep jewel tones. Pillows so soft they’re like sleeping on air, each one perfectly suited for different positions. A weighted blanket reminds me of their protective embraces, heavy enough to feel like being held but light enough not to overwhelm.

I find small fairy lights connected by copper wire. I already picture how they'll cast a warm glow over our nest, creating the perfect ambience. I open another box and find a set of bookends. The note inside reads:For your own library.If you don’t want to start your own, you can have mine.

My eyes prickle with tears as I open a velvet jewelry box, finding a delicate silver chain with four intertwined circles. Each circle is subtly different: one has tinycedar branches etched into it, another citrus blossoms, the third pine needles, and the fourth—mine—has delicate lilac blooms. It's us, interconnected, inseparable.

I put it around my neck next to my locket, stroking it over the soft sweater where the pendant falls between my breasts. I catch my reflection in the mirror and barely recognize myself. There's a glow about me now, a quiet confidence that comes from being loved.

Suddenly, I have to have the nest completed before they return. I’ll wait for them there, and then when they come home we can stay there for the next week while we discover more about ourselves and each other. Gathering an armful of new nesting supplies, I kneel on the soft mattress. I'm finally ready to build something beautiful.

Something ours.

Something that will last forever.

I lose myself in the rhythm of nest-building. Time becomes fluid as I weave blankets and arrange pillows. Each item must be perfect, contribute to the whole. My hands smooth wrinkles, tuck corners, adjust angles until everything is right. This isn't just decoration. It's instinct, it's art, it's love made tangible.

The fairy lights go up next, creating a gentle golden canopy. Standing on tiptoe, I ensure they're secure, imagining how they'll cast soft shadows across my alphas' faces during quiet nights together. Precious trinkets find homes on nearby shelves. Zane’s coffee mug. Adrian's favorite book. Cole’s boxing gloves.

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