Page 75 of Wisteria and Cloves

Miles smiled gently, understanding my embarrassment. "Of course we wouldn't mind. Which items would bring you the most comfort?"

I looked at the beautifully arranged nest, my fingers twisting together as I considered. "Maybe the scarf? And one of the scent-retaining pillows?"

Julian nodded, reaching for the bamboo-silk scarf. "Would you like us to scent them individually, or together?"

The question caught me off guard. "Together?"

"Some omegas find blended scents more comforting than individual ones," Miles explained, his tone soft as he explained it to me.

The concept of blended scents felt somehow even more intimate, a mingling of their identities specifically for my comfort. "I think... maybe separately for now?" I said hesitantly. "So I can learn each of your scents individually."

"That makes perfect sense," Julian said with an approving nod. "Learning to distinguish individual scents is important."

Miles held out his hand for the scarf. "May I?" he asked Julian, who passed it to him with a nod. I watched, fascinated, as Miles brought the fabric to his neck, gently rubbing it against his scent glands in a deliberate motion. The casualness with which he scented the material for me made my breath catch—this intimate act performed without hesitation or embarrassment.

When he finished, he carefully folded the scarf and placed it on the edge of the nest. "There," he said softly. "That should hold my scent for quite a while."

I reached out tentatively, my fingers brushing against the fabric. The scent that rose from it was distinctly Miles—something earthy and green, like fresh soil and growing things, with an underlying warmth that reminded me of sunshine on leaves. It was immediately comforting, wrapping around me like a gentle embrace.

"It smells like your garden," I murmured, surprised by how right it felt to have his scent so close.

Miles's expression brightened with pleasure. "I spend enough time there that it's probably part of me now."

Julian picked up one of the scent-retaining pillowcases, his movements careful and deliberate. "Would you like me to scent this one?"

I nodded, watching as he brought the fabric to his throat. His scent was different from Miles's—something crisp and clean with undertones of cedar and cloves. It was the scent of safety and protection, of someone who could be trusted to keep his word. When he handed me the pillowcase, I pressed it to my face without thinking, breathing in the comforting fragrance.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice muffled by the fabric. "Both of you. This means more than I can say."

Julian's hand briefly touched my shoulder, a gentle squeeze of acknowledgment. "We're honored that you find comfort in our scents, Lilianna. It's not a burden—it's a privilege."

Miles nodded in agreement, his green eyes warm with affection. "And if you need fresh scenting during your transition, just ask. We want you to feel secure…I am sure the other two will be happy to scent something for you as well."

I gave him a smile, my cheeks still warm from the blushing. It felt so nice to be treated like this with no expectations. I was definitely becoming more comfortable with these men and could see myself having a future with them…even with the small amount of time I have been here.

I couldn’t wait to see what was to come.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lilianna

I settled into my newly arranged nest, the weighted blanket a comforting pressure across my legs as I leaned against the scent-retaining pillows. Julian and Miles had left me to rest before dinner, and I found myself breathing deeply, savoring the subtle scents they'd left for my comfort. The room felt transformed—not just by the physical items we'd arranged, but by the care that had gone into creating this space.

My phone chimed with a message, and I reached for it, finding a text from Christopher:Back with your prescription and several ice cream options. Dinner in 30 minutes if you're feeling up to joining us.

I smiled at his thoughtfulness, typing back:I'll be down. Thank you for getting everything.

As I set the phone aside, my gaze fell on the folder Nicolaus had given me—the safety document we'd started together. Igave it one last glance promising myself I would add to it later tonight.

The thought of adding to the document felt less daunting now, surrounded by comfort and knowing I had support during whatever changes lay ahead. I tucked the folder into my bedside table drawer, then selected a soft cardigan to wear over my dress before heading downstairs.

The kitchen was alive with activity when I arrived. Christopher stood at the stove, stirring something that smelled rich and savory, while Nicolaus sat at the island with his tablet, presumably researching my new medication. Julian was setting the table with careful precision, and Miles was arranging fresh herbs from his garden in a small vase as a centerpiece.

"Perfect timing," Christopher said, looking up with a warm smile. "I made your favorite soup—the one you enjoyed so much the other night."

I felt a flutter of warmth at his words. The idea that he'd remembered what I liked, that he considered it "my favorite," was still foreign but wonderful. "You didn't have to go to extra trouble for me."

"It wasn't trouble," Christopher assured me, ladling the fragrant soup into bowls. "Besides, comfort food seems particularly appropriate tonight, given what you're about to start."

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