Page 100 of Lavender and Honey

Lucian nods, the movement slight but perceptible. "Then you won't go back. It's as simple as that."

"But it's not simple," I protest, pulling back slightly to look up at him. "She's here until Sunday. Staying at the Grand Haven Hotel. Expecting me to 'come to my senses' and agree to the arrangement. And she said... she implied..."

The words stick in my throat, my mother's pointed comments about my lack of blockers suddenly too painful to repeat. Lucian waits patiently, his grey eyes steady on mine, no judgment in their depths.

"She said I was being naive," I manage finally, dropping my gaze to where my fingers twist in the fabric of the blanket. "That an unmated Omega needs proper pack protection. That I'm vulnerable without it."

A low sound rumbles in Lucian's chest again, but it's not the soothing growl from before. This is sharper, edged with something that might be anger or offense.

"Look at me, Lydia," he says, his voice gentle despite the tension evident in his jaw. When I hesitate, his fingers brush my chin, tilting my face up until our eyes meet. "You are not unprotected. You are not unclaimed. You are ours, and we are yours."

The conviction in his voice, the absolute certainty with which he claims me as part of their pack, steals my breath. His thumb brushes my cheek, wiping away the wetness left by my tears.

"But we're not... I haven't..." I stammer, unable to articulate the fact that we haven't completed any formal pack bonding, haven't discussed mating or marking or any of the traditional steps that would make me officially theirs.

"Formal rituals can come in time, if and when you're ready," Lucian says, somehow understanding my unspoken concern. "But make no mistake—you became part of us the moment Elias scented you in that nest. The moment you stopped using blockers and trusted us with your true scent. The moment you stayed."

His words wash over me, a balm to the wounds my mother's visit had reopened. Could it be that simple? Not a matter of formal ceremonies or traditional pack structures, but of choice and trust and mutual claiming?

"May I?" Lucian asks, his head dipping slightly toward my neck, his intention clear in the gesture. I nod, my heart racing at the intimacy of what he's asking. Scenting is personal, significant—a way for pack members to mark each other, to carry each other's essence as both protection and declaration of belonging. It's something I've shared with Elias, in the safety of his nest, but not yet with the others.

Lucian leans in slowly, giving me every opportunity to change my mind. His nose brushes against the sensitive skin of my neck where my scent gland pulses with a heady mix of anxiety and something warmer, more anticipatory. He inhales deeply, taking in my natural lavender fragrance, now tinged with the remnants of distress and the newer notes of comfort beginning to emerge.

Then he mimics my motion, allowing his own scent gland to brush against my skin, deliberately marking me with his distinctive amber essence. The sensation sends a shiver through me, not unpleasant but startlingly intimate. He repeats the motion on the other side of my neck, ensuring his scent melds thoroughly with mine.

When he pulls back, his eyes have darkened, pupils expanded with something that might be satisfaction or possession or both.

"There," he says, his voice pitched low. "Now you carry my scent as well as Elias's. Anyone with a nose will know you're pack-claimed, protected."

The significance of what he's done—the public declaration it represents—settles over me like a warm blanket. My mother's accusations about flaunting my unblocked scent seem toothless now. I'm not just an unmated Omega vulnerable to any passing Alpha. I'm claimed, protected, chosen by a pack that sees me as more than my designation.

"Thank you," I whisper, the words inadequate for the emotion welling in my chest.

Lucian's expression softens, his usual composed mask giving way to something warmer, more open. "The others were worried too," he says. "They wanted to come, but we thought it might be overwhelming."

"Will you tell them I'm okay?" I ask, realizing how my sudden disappearance must have frightened them. "I didn't mean to worry everyone. I just... couldn't face anyone after she left."

Lucian nods, his hand finding mine atop the blanket. Our fingers intertwine, his larger ones curling protectively around mine. The contact sends a spark through me—part comfort, part connection, part something deeper that I'm not ready to name yet.

"I'll let them know," he promises. "But they'll want to see for themselves. And I think..." he pauses, seeming to choose his words carefully, "I think it might be good for you to be surrounded by pack right now. To be reminded that you belong with us, not with the life your mother wants to drag you back to."

The suggestion should frighten me—the idea of being surrounded by all four of them when I'm still so emotionally raw, so vulnerable. But instead, I find myself nodding, a quiet longing unfurling in my chest at the thought of being held in the circle of their protection, their care.

"I'd like that," I admit softly. "If they're not too angry with me for disappearing."

Lucian's expression softens further, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of my hand. "They're not angry, Lydia. Just concerned. They care about you. We all do."

The simple statement settles something restless inside me, a piece shifting into place with a rightness I can feel in my bones. Whatever my mother might think, whatever the Greene pack might offer, it can't compare to this—to being truly seen, truly known, truly chosen. Not for my breeding potential or family connections, but for myself.

I lean into Lucian's solid warmth, letting my head rest against his shoulder as his arm comes around me again, protective and sure. His scent surrounds me now, mingling with my own, a tangible reminder that I'm not facing this alone.

That I don't have to run anymore.

That I had a home with them.

For as long as I wanted.

Forever.

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