Page 105 of Lavender and Honey

"Damn right it's not," Soren agrees, his purple eyes flashing. "That wicked bitch can stay away if she knows what's good for her. She's not taking Lydia anywhere."

His words – crude, fierce, uncompromising – startle a watery laugh from me. It catches in my throat, emerging as a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. The unfiltered protectiveness behind the declaration, the complete rejection of my mother's authority, feels like a lifeline thrown into the dark waters I've been drowning in since this morning.

Soren's eyes find mine, his expression softening slightly at my reaction. But the determination doesn't fade – if anything, it strengthens, his jaw setting in a hard line that transforms his usually playful features into something formidable.

"He means it," Elias murmurs against my hair, his warm breath tickling my scalp. "We all do. You're ours now, if you want to be. And we protect our own."

Ours.The word sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with a bone-deep longing I've been denying for longer than I care to admit. To belong, to be claimed, to be protected – not as property, not as a status symbol, but as a valued, cherished member of a pack that sees me as I truly am.

"Can she force me?" I whisper, the question slipping out before I can stop it – the fear that's been gnawing at me since the moment I saw her standing in my shop. "Legally, I mean. Can she make me go back?"

"No," Lucian says firmly, no hesitation in his voice. "You're an adult, Lydia. She has no legal authority over you whatsoever. She can't force you to go anywhere or agree to any mating arrangement."

"And even if she tried something underhanded," Finn adds, his tone unusually hard, "she'd have to go through all four of us first."

The declaration hangs in the air, solid and unwavering. I glance around at their faces – Lucian's controlled fury, Finn's quiet determination, Soren's fierce protectiveness, and though I can't see Elias's expression, I can feel it in the tension of his body against mine, in the way his arms form a living barrier between me and any threat.

For the first time since my mother appeared in my shop, I feel something uncurl inside me, something that might, with care and time, grow into hope. These four men – so different from each other, so unlike anyone I've known before – stand united in their determination to protect me, to help me remain free of the life my parents planned.

"Thank you," I whisper, the words inadequate for the surge of gratitude washing through me. "I don't know why you're all doing this for me, but... thank you."

"You really don't know?" Soren asks, his voice surprisingly gentle despite the intensity in his gaze. "After everything?"

I blink, confused by the question. "I've only known you all for a short time," I point out, uncertainty creeping into my voice. "And I haven't done anything to deserve this kind of... protection."

Elias's arms tighten around me, a tremor running through him that might be frustration or something deeper. "You don't have to earn it, Lydia," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "That's not how this works. Not with us."

"You're pack," Lucian says simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Whether you've realized it yet or not. And pack protects each other. Always."

Pack. The word resonates through me like a struck bell, vibrating in places that have been silent for too long. Is that what's happening here? Not just kindness, not just attraction, but something more fundamental, more primal – the recognition of belonging that transcends rational thought?

I've spent so long running from the idea of pack, associating it with control and obligation and the suffocating expectations of my childhood. But this – this feels different. Protective without being possessive. Supportive without demanding submission. Caring without conditions.

My eyes flicker to Lucian…to Finn…then Soren, who’s eyes holds my gaze for a moment before his expression softens marginally, not into his customary grin but into something gentler, more intent. Without speaking, he moves closer to the nest, his movements deliberately slow as if approaching a wounded animal. He crouches down at the edge, bringing himself to my eye level where I'm still cradled in Elias's lap.

"Hey," he says, his voice unusually soft. "You good, Lavender girl?" The familiar nickname, spoken with such tenderness, nearly undoes me. I manage a tiny nod, not trusting my voice.

"Liar," Soren says, but there's no accusation in his tone, only a gentle understanding that makes my eyes burn with fresh tears. "You've had a day from hell, and that's okay. You don't have to be good right now."

The permission to not be okay, to acknowledge the weight of emotion crushing me from the inside out, is almost too much tobear. I swallow hard, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over again. Elias's arms tighten around me, his purr vibrating against my back in steady waves of comfort.

"It's a lot to take in," Soren acknowledges, his eyes never leaving mine. "I get that. But here's what's going to happen. You're going to stay right here, in this nest, for as long as you need to. You're going to let us take care of you, because that's what pack does.”

"We're not going anywhere," he promises, his hand coming to rest lightly on the edge of the nest, not quite touching me but close enough that I could reach out if I wanted to. "And neither are you, unless it's what you want. No more running, Lavender girl. Not when you have us to stand with you."

A tear slips free despite my best efforts, tracing a warm path down my cheek. Soren's expression softens further at the sight, his usual playfulness melting into something that looks suspiciously like tenderness.

"Aw, Lydia," he murmurs, his hand twitching as if he wants to reach out and brush the tear away but is restraining himself. "Don't cry. Or do cry, if you need to. It's actually good for you – releases tension. The science is solid, I swear."

The attempt at lightheartedness, the tiny glimpse of the Soren I'm more familiar with, pulls another watery laugh from me. I reach up to dash the tear away myself, but not before Elias presses a soft kiss to the crown of my head, a silent comfort of his own.

"We've got you," Soren says, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "All of us. And if you need anything – anything at all – you just say the word. Cuddles, food, a bit of rebellious alcohol..." His lips quirk in the ghost of his usual grin. "I'm your man. We all are."

"I can help too," Finn offers, joining Soren at the edge of the nest. He kneels beside his pack-mate, his large frame somehowcontained, made less imposing by the gentleness in his eyes. "If you'd like company but don't feel up to talking, I can sit with you. Or I could read to you, if that would help. Sometimes words are easier when they belong to someone else."

The thoughtfulness of the offer, so perfectly suited to both Finn's quiet nature and my current state of emotional exhaustion, brings a fresh lump to my throat. I glance between them – Soren with his fierce protectiveness barely contained beneath a veneer of lightheartedness, Finn with his steady presence and gentle understanding. Behind them stands Lucian, a silent guardian with watchful eyes and unwavering determination. And surrounding me is Elias, his arms a safe harbor in the storm of my emotions, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against my back.

Four men, so different from each other yet united in their concern for me. Four men who've opened their pack, their home, their hearts to someone they barely know – or perhaps, someone they know better than I've let anyone know me in years. The realization is both terrifying and exhilarating, a precipice I'm standing on after a lifetime of careful steps away from the edge.

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