Page 41 of Nesting With My Three Alphas
How long before they decided I was too much trouble? How long before the cost of caring for me outweighed whatever they thought they were getting in return?
I pulled the flannel tighter around my shoulders and tried to convince myself that I could handle this alone. That I didn't need anyone else to fight my battles or soothe my fears.
But my body betrayed me, skin flushed and hypersensitive, omega instincts crying out for pack comfort I was too afraid to ask for.
The photographs were a message, I realized. Not just proof that Marcus had found me, but a reminder of what he could take away. These people who'd started to feel like family, this community that had welcomed me, this life I'd begun to build from nothing.
He didn't want me. He just wanted to prove that no one else could.
He hadn't loved me when I lived under his roof, but he still wouldn't let me go. Why now? What did he think he'd find here? Proof that I was happier without him? Evidence that I could survive on my own?
I didn't owe him anything. Not my peace. Not my fear. Not the small happiness I'd managed to carve out in this mountain town full of people who saw me as worth protecting.
But as I sat in my nest, surrounded by the scents of safety while photographs of my supposed false security scattered across my kitchen table, I couldn't shake the feeling that Marcus was just getting started.
Even if I stayed quiet tonight, I knew it wouldn't last. They'd smell it on me soon, my fear, my heat, the way I was unraveling.
The first raindrop hit the window like a fingertip tapping glass. I didn't know if it was the storm I was afraid of, or what might follow in its wake.
Chapter 13
Reed
Iwas soaked to the skin by the time I knocked on Kit's front door, rain dripping from my hair and jacket despite the short sprint from my truck. The thermos of Micah's calming tea felt warm in one hand while I clutched one of Jonah's old flannels in the other. She'd borrowed it once during our gardening afternoon, and I'd noticed how she'd curled into it like it was armor.
I didn't expect her to answer right away. I'd already decided that if she didn't open the door, I'd sit on the porch all night just so she knew she wasn't alone. The storm was vicious tonight, the kind of weather that made even the strongest buildings feel fragile.
When the door finally opened, revealing Kit pale and wide-eyed in the doorway, every protective instinct I possessed went feral. She looked like she'd been crying, her scent spiked with fear and something else I couldn't quite place. I softenedeverything immediately. My voice, my movements, even my breathing.
"Storm's rough tonight," I said gently. "Thought you might want backup."
She let me in with barely a word, stepping back to allow me into the small entryway. I clocked the details immediately. Closed curtains. Shaky hands. The faint chemical sweetness of suppressants breaking down. Everything about her posture screamed distress, but she was trying so hard to hold it together.
Before following further into the house, I made sure the bolt on the door was thrown and tugged the curtain tighter across the window. It wasn't much, but it was something I could control.
I didn't ask questions. Didn't push for explanations she wasn't ready to give.
"Let's go to the nest," I said softly. "You'll settle better where it smells safe."
She nodded and led me to her nest room, where the lighting was low and the air was thick with her scent. Vanilla and honey, but sharper now, edged with anxiety. Underneath it all, I caught traces of me and the others, evidence of how we'd been woven into her space of safety.
I moved straight to the chair in the corner without needing instruction, understanding instinctively that the nest itself was hers. She didn't speak, just watched as I shrugged off my wet jacket and rolled back my sleeves before settling into the chair like I'd been made to wait here.
In my head, chaos reigned.
She was hurting and I wanted to fix it, but people weren't like cabinets. Her scent was changing, taking on undertones that made every alpha instinct I possessed scream at me to go to her, to comfort and claim and protect. But I'd never rush her. I wanted to be the place she rested, not the storm that broke her.
I remembered how badly I'd needed control as a kid, how much it had terrified me when I couldn't fix what was broken inside myself. The foster homes where I'd learned that being useful meant being wanted, that fixing things was the only way to earn my place.
Micah and Jonah had been the first people who didn't make me feel like a problem to be solved. They'd wanted me around not because I was useful, but because I was me.
Kit wasn't a problem either. She was the reason I wanted to be better.
I poured tea into the travel mug I'd brought and set it near her without saying a word. The ritual of it seemed to calm us both. She curled tighter into her nest, holding Jonah's flannel against her face, and I forced my gaze away from how small and vulnerable she looked.
I tried not to focus on how flushed she was, how her scent had that fever-sweet edge of a heat not quite here but coming. Instead, I distracted us both with stories.
"I used to sleep in the school woodshop just to get away from the dorms," I said quietly. "Couldn't stand being around that many people, all their emotions pressing in on me."
