Page 19 of A Promise of Forever
The property behind the main house stretches out in carefully maintained gardens and walking paths, but at the very edge of the grounds sits a small cottage that most people don't even know exists. My parents built it years ago when they started stepping back from the business, creating a private retreat separate from the main house and all its associated violence and criminal activity. My Omega father loved that cottage. He'd spend days there when the business got too overwhelming, when the darkness of our world became too much to handle. After my parents died, I kept the cottage maintained but rarely visited it.
But now, carrying Sterling through the evening air with his sweet scent wrapped around me, I understand why I've been maintaining that space all these years. It was waiting for this moment, for this particular Omega who needs sanctuary more than luxury.
The cottage comes into view, that amber, warm lighting filtering through the windows that I remember from all those years ago. I shift Sterling's weight to open the door, then step inside and set him carefully on his feet. Sterling's reaction is immediate. His eyes go wide as he takes in the space, his whole body going very still as his scent spikes to levels that make my head spin.
The cottage is everything the main house isn't. The studio layout feels intimate rather than imposing, with the bed taking up nearly half the room. It's positioned at waist level on a raised platform, surrounded by what looks like hundreds of pillows in various sizes and textures. Soft blankets are folded neatly at the foot of the bed, and the whole space smells faintly of lavender and spice from the sachets my father used to tuck into the linens. I’ve had the staff maintain just the same way they did for myparents and while it’s not plushies and lavish Omega nests like in those articles, it’s a whole hell of a lot better than that bedroom I placed him in last night.
I can only imagine how much my Omega father loved this place, how safe and cherished he must have felt when my Valla father built this for him. The sweet aroma of Sterling's scent intensifies dramatically, and I look over to see him blushing, his hands trembling slightly in front of him as he stares at the bed.
"Hey," I say gently, concerned by his sudden stillness. "What's wrong?"
Sterling's voice comes out barely above a whisper. "It's... I... mine?"
The hopeful uncertainty in his tone breaks something in my chest. "Do you like it?"
"I've never had a nest," he says, tears slipping down his cheeks as he takes a tentative step forward. "I... there... mine?"
The broken grammar and stuttered words tell me he's completely overwhelmed by emotion, unable to process that someone is offering him something Omegas naturally build on their own. I read something about Omegas constructing a nest when they feel safe and knowing that he’s never had one of his own both angers and worries me. He reaches out to run his fingers along the blankets, like he's afraid they might disappear if he touches them too firmly.
Sterling climbs onto the bed cautiously, growing more confident by the minute before falling face-down into the pillows. I bite back a chuckle as the shirt he’s swimming in rides up to his waist, his sexy little ass staring back at me. He shimmies further into the nest before letting out a little cry of happiness, the sound muffled by the soft fabric. Then he turns over, staring up at the ceiling with wonder written across his face. For several moments, I just watch him. He’s perfectly in hisown little element, his fingers curling into the plush that I swore to myself this morning I wouldn’t be able to stand.
“It’s perfect. I love it.” He drags one of the blankets to his nose and then groans before sitting up a little. “It doesn’t smell right, though.” I frown, about to ask what he means when he sniffs at it again and shakes his head. “Fuck, I meant. Sorry, sir. I just…”
I chuckle as I close the door behind us and then step toward the bed. “Do you need it to smell like me, little dove?”
He throws me a glare and then shakes his head. “Can you stay?”Ah.
I was about to drag that blanket across my face or scent gland or whatever the fuck it takes to scent it, but staying sounds so much more enticing. "Would you like me to?"
"I don't want to do anything," Sterling says quickly, scooting farther toward the headboard. "But I want... can you just hold me?"
The request is so simple, so heartbreakingly modest in its scope, that I feel my protective instincts roar to life all over again. "I would love that." I kick off my shoes and move to lock the cottage door, ensuring our privacy and Sterling's sense of security. Then I climb onto the bed, situating myself against the pile of pillows so there's room for Sterling to choose how close he wants to be. He stares at the space between us, almost calculating comfort over desire before pressing himself against my chest, his smaller body fitting perfectly against mine. The feel of him pressed against me, warm and trusting and exactly where he belongs, makes my purr start up automatically.
"Touch, please," Sterling whispers against my chest. "I need you to touch."
The request is so different from his earlier panic that I marvel at how quickly his comfort level can shift when he feels safe. I wrap my arms around him carefully, holding him close but not tight enough to feel trapped, and he sags against me with a sighthat sounds like relief. My purr deepens, the rumbling sound filling the small cottage as Sterling melts into my embrace. His scent is pure contentment now, the sweetness of approaching heat mixed with something that speaks to safety and belonging.
"I know I can't trust all this," Sterling murmurs against my chest. "But I'm just going to pretend that it's the best dream I've ever had until I wake up, okay?"
He still doesn't believe this is real, still expects to wake up and find himself back in whatever nightmare Wilson created for him. The knowledge that Sterling sees safety and care as something too good to be true makes me hold him a little tighter. If I have any say in it, this is going to be a dream he never has to wake up from.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, the vibration jarring in the peaceful quiet of the cottage. Sterling stiffens slightly in my arms, pulling back just enough to look up at my face. "I'm taking you away from your work, aren't I?" The fact that he's worried about my work when he should be focused on his own needs pisses me off. Not at Sterling, but at everyone who taught him that his comfort comes last, that taking care of himself is somehow selfish. I reach into my pocket, pull out my phone, and turn it completely off without even looking at who was trying to reach me. Then I slide it back into my pocket and return my full attention to the Omega in my arms. "Problem solved," I tell him, pressing a kiss to the top of his damp hair. "Go to sleep. I'll still be here in the morning."
Sterling relaxes completely at that promise, his body going boneless against mine as exhaustion finally catches up with him. I lie there holding him, listening to his soft breathing and feeling his heartbeat against my chest, and realize that everything in my life has fundamentally changed. The business, the power, the reputation I've spent years building, all of it suddenly feels less important than making sure this particular Omega feels safe andcherished. Marcus and Caelan and even fucking Bryn were all right.
This broken, beautiful Omega is mine now, and I'm going to do everything in my power to prove that he can trust in the world I can give him.
Sterling
Heavy pounding jerks me out of sleep so violently that I shoot upright before I'm even fully conscious. My heart slams against my ribs as sweat pours down my back, every nerve in my body screaming danger. The sound comes again, a fist hammering against the door like someone's trying to break it down, and terror floods my system so completely that I can't breathe.
Wilson found me. He's here. He's going to drag me back and make good on every threat he's ever made.
A scream tears from my throat before I can stop it, filled with every ounce of fear I've been carrying for months. Thesound echoes in the small cottage, bouncing off the walls and making everything feel more chaotic and terrifying. I twist to reach for Forrest, but he’s already out of the nest, a deafening growl overpowering my terror. He stalks toward the door with a predatory speed that reminds me he's not just any man but a Valla at the peak of his power. He rips the door open with enough force that I hear wood splinter, then drags whoever was pounding just outside to the right before slamming them against the wall. The violence of it should probably scare me, but right now I'm too focused on my own terror to process what's happening.
"What could you possibly want?" Forrest's voice is deadly, the kind of tone that promises violence if the answer isn't satisfactory.
Tears stream down my face as I clutch one of the blankets to my chest. If it were Wilson, he would already be demanding that I be returned to him. And none of my ex-Alphas have tried to get me back like Wilson has. Not that they won’t try but they just never have. I swallow nervously, only catching snippets of Forrest’s heated voice between my ragged breaths and the sound of blood rushing through my ears. It's still dark outside, maybe three or four in the morning based on the quality of light filtering through the windows. A sob convulses through me as I scoot back against the headboard, a smaller version of Forrest peeking inside.
