Page 56 of Lavender and Honey

"Two were completely unintentional," Elias retorted without missing a beat.

Lucian chuckled, setting his keys on the counter. "Well, I’ll leave you masters to it. I’m going to change out of my work clothes." He paused for a moment, his eyes finding mine again. "Finn should be home soon, too. I'm sure he'll be glad you're here."

"Looking forward to it," I said, and meant it. Finn's quiet presence had a soothing effect on me, like a cool shadow on a sweltering day.

"Be back in a few," Lucian promised, heading toward the stairs with a softness to his steps that belied his size. Lucian's departure sent a ripple of warmth through the kitchen that lingered even as he ascended the stairs. I found my gaze tracing his retreating form, an unbidden smile tugging at my lips. When I turned back to the others, Elias and Soren were nodding as if having a silent conversation.

"See you soon," Elias called out, a fond note in his voice. Soren merely grinned, his eyes following Lucian with an air of amusement.

As if on cue, Lucian paused at the foot of the staircase and pivoted gracefully, returning to us with a few purposeful strides. The atmosphere seemed to hold its breath as he approached each of his packmates in turn, bestowing a kiss upon their cheeks— a gesture of camaraderie and kinship that was evidently commonplace among them. Elias received the affection with a smile, his hazel eyes reflecting the shared bond of their pack. Soren, ever the playful provocateur, feigned annoyance, though his eyes danced with mirth.

Then, unexpectedly, it was my turn. I felt the air hitch in my throat as Lucian leaned down slightly, his presence enveloping me. The brush of his lips against my cheek was feather-light, but it ignited a blush that blossomed across my face, warm and revealing. I struggled to maintain composure, the shyness within me battling the burgeoning sense of belonging.

"Welcome, Lydia," he murmured, his voice a low hum that resonated somewhere deep inside me.

"Thank you," I whispered, the words barely escaping before he retreated once more, finally ascending the stairs. I presseda hand to my burning cheek, attempting to steady my frayed nerves.

"Aw, look at you, all flushed and flustered!" Soren chortled, his teasing tone drawing a sharp glance from Elias.

"Be nice, Soren," Elias admonished gently, though the corners of his mouth twitched in an effort to suppress his own smile. "We don't want to scare her off with your boisterousness."

"Who, me? Never!" Soren protested with exaggerated innocence, earning a soft chuckle from Elias.

I tried to school my features into something resembling neutrality, but the heat lingering on my skin made it impossible. Despite their teasing, an unfamiliar lightness bubbled up within me, mingling with the rich aromas of cooking herbs and spices.

"Alright, alright," I conceded, my voice steadier than I felt. "You've had your fun."

"Indeed we have," Elias agreed, the laughter now fully lighting up his eyes. "But let's get back to work. We wouldn't want dinner to become another casualty of Soren's culinary exploits, would we?"

"Hey, I will have you know—" Soren began, but a playful glare from Elias cut him short.

"Save it for after dinner," Elias said with finality, turning his attention back to the simmering pot on the stove.

And just like that, the kitchen dance resumed, the teasing giving way to the comfortable rhythm of cooking and companionship. I knew we had mostly finished everything. He had made extra batches of noodles and we were having that for dinner.

"Okay, that should just about do it," Elias said, eyeing the bread as I finally placed it into the oven. "Now, this is going to take some time to bake." I nodded, wiping my hands on the apron that felt foreign against my body. Elias's gaze met mine,and there was a softness in his eyes, a recognition of something unspoken that had me teetering on the edge of vulnerability.

"Let's head to the living room while we wait for it to simmer and for Finn to get home," he suggested, his voice a gentle nudge. "There's no need to stand around here watching. There is nothing more we can do for right now."

I followed him, relieved for the escape from the heat of the stove and the intensity of the kitchen. The living space welcomed us with its plush couches and the quiet hum of the outside world filtering through the open window.

Elias fidgeted slightly, casting a glance toward a corner of the room where blankets and cushions were artfully arranged into a cozy enclosure. It was clearly a personal space, one that spoke of safety and comfort.

"Would you, um, like to relax in my nest while we wait?" he asked, his usual composure giving way to a hint of uncertainty. His question lingered in the air, an offer wrapped in layers of trust and intimacy.

The suggestion hung in the air like a delicate scent, and I felt a tremor of uncertainty course through me. I glanced towards Elias's nest— an intimate alcove that seemed to pulse with quiet invitation.

"Are you sure? You would be comfortable with that?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them, layered with an undercurrent of surprise and apprehension. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, my gaze flickering between Elias and the nest, a place so deeply personal I could hardly believe he'd offered it so casually.

A nest was a sanctuary, a sacred space for an Omega, and yet my own experience with such places was nothing but a barren field of yearning. The very concept felt foreign, a language I had not been allowed to speak. Growing up, my family had deemed it unnecessary, frivolous— even improper for someonewho preferred solitude over pack life. The idea that I might now be welcomed into another Omega's haven sent a ripple of unfamiliar emotion through me.

Elias's nod was gentle, the gesture brimming with an effortless grace that seemed to fill the room with warmth. "Lydia," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm that smoothed over my jumbled nerves, "there's nothing I'd like more than to share my nest with you. It's a place of peace, meant for comfort and companionship."

His eyes, those warm hazel pools reflecting understanding and kindness, held mine with an unwavering steadiness. He didn't know the weight of his invitation, how it pulled at the threads of longing woven through my past. To him, offering his nest was as natural as extending a hand in greeting, but to me, it felt like stepping across a threshold into a world I had only watched from afar.

"Okay," I managed, my voice a whisper caught between gratitude and trepidation. The single syllable felt momentous, a key turning in a long-locked door. I followed him, my feet carrying me closer to the alcove tucked away in the corner of the communal living space. The nest itself was a harmony of colors and textures— plush pillows, soft blankets, and a quiet ambience that seemed to hum with Elias's essence. My heart thrummed against my ribs, each beat a drum roll marking the gravity of this simple act.

"Make yourself at home," Elias encouraged, stepping back to give me space. His smile was an open invitation, free of expectations. As I lowered myself into the embrace of cushions, the reality of where I sat— a nest freely offered— caused a shiver of emotion. This wasn't just a place to relax while bread baked in the oven; it was a gift of trust, a symbol of the life Elias and his pack lived—one of unguarded acceptance and shared joys.

---