Page 43 of Nesting With My Three Alphas
Kit shifted toward me, and I went completely still, letting her set the pace. Then she kissed me.
It was tentative at first, a question more than a statement. Her lips were soft and warm, tasting faintly of Micah's tea and something uniquely her that made my chest tight with want. I'd imagined this moment more times than I cared to admit, but reality was infinitely better. She fit against me like she'd been made for my arms, small and perfect and trusting.
The kiss deepened, becoming full of heat and longing. Her scent bloomed around us, vanilla and honey with undertones of something richer, more complex. I could feel her heart racing against my chest, the way her fingers curled into my shirt like she was afraid I might disappear.
Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to claim, to mark, to make her mine in every way that mattered. But louder than instinct was the need to cherish this gift she was giving me. Her trust, her vulnerability, the way she was choosing me in this moment despite everything that scared her.
I returned the kiss with careful hunger, letting her feel how much I wanted her while keeping myself firmly in check. WhenI finally pulled back, it was with every ounce of self-control I possessed.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted that," I said, my voice rough with honesty. "But I want this to be right."
I tucked her against my chest, careful to anchor her weight there, to let her feel how steady I could be when it mattered.
"Sleep," I murmured against her hair. "I'll be here when you wake up."
She settled against me with a sigh that sounded like relief, like coming home. Her breathing evened out as the storm continued outside, but here in her nest, surrounded by the scents of safety and growing pack bonds, everything felt quiet and right.
Jonah was her anchor. Micah was her comfort. I wasn't sure what I was yet. But maybe I could be the quiet place where she landed when the world got too loud.
I'd spent my life fixing things that didn't last. Broken furniture, damaged relationships, foster home situations that were always temporary. But the way she curled into my side like I was something solid, something permanent, something that felt like mine.
Outside, thunder rolled again, but her breathing stayed steady, synced with mine like we were already something shared.
That felt like forever.
Chapter 14
Jonah
The storm rolled in just after midnight, and I knew immediately it was going to be a bad one. Not just because of the thunder that shook the windows or the lightning that turned the night into strobing day, but because of the way Charlie stirred restlessly in her sleep, her small body responding to atmospheric pressure changes the way some people responded to earthquakes.
And because of the scent drifting through the thin walls from next door. Kit's usual vanilla-and-honey sweetness spiked with sharp notes of anxiety and something else. Something that made my alpha instincts sit up and take notice.
Fear.
I lay in my bed, listening to the rain pound against the windows and trying to ignore the way Kit's distress was affecting me. It wasn't my place to comfort her. We'd shared one perfect afternoon building nests and planting gardens, but that didn'tgive me the right to assume she wanted my help dealing with whatever demons storms brought up for her.
But God, I wanted to help.
Another crack of thunder made the house shudder, and I heard a soft sound from next door that might have been a whimper. My hands clenched into fists, every protective instinct I possessed screaming at me to go to her.
But Kit still had carefully placed boundaries and the last thing she needed was me to steamroll over them. She was learning to trust us, learning to trust herself. Whatever lingered in her past that still haunted her was slowly starting to fade, and I wanted to be the light that chased the last of those shadows away. When she was ready to let me.
The storm intensified, bringing with it the kind of driving rain that turned windows into rivers and made even the most solid house feel fragile. I'd been through dozens of storms like this, but something about tonight felt different. More urgent.
Maybe it was the way Kit's scent kept shifting, anxiety spiking and then calming, like she was fighting some internal battle. Maybe it was the memory of how peaceful she'd looked in her nest, surrounded by our care. Or maybe it was just that I was falling for her harder and faster than I'd thought possible, and the idea of her suffering alone was more than I could handle.
I was debating whether checking on her would be welcome or invasive when I heard Charlie's bedroom door creak open.
"Dad?" Her voice was small in the darkness. "The storm's really loud."
"I know, buttercup." I sat up, automatically opening my arms as Charlie padded over to my bed. "Want to sleep in here tonight?"
"Yeah." Charlie climbed under the covers, pressing close to my side the way she had when she was smaller. "Is Kit okay? She smells scared."
Charlie's scent sensitivity had always been sharper than most kids her age, a trait she'd inherited from her mother.
"I think she might be," I said carefully. "Storms can be hard for people sometimes."
