Page 207 of Knot Baked Out For This
"To forever," I say quietly, and all three of them go still. "You're all my forever fall."
The words hang in the air, more serious than I intended, and for a moment I'm terrified I've said too much, been too vulnerable, ruined the moment with feelings?—
"Every season's yours now," Rowan says, voice rough with emotion. "Not just fall. All of them. Forever."
And then the first firework explodes overhead, painting the sky in gold and purple and autumn fire, and I'm being kissed.
Rowan's mouth on mine, claiming and gentle at once, tasting like witch's brew and promises. Then Luca's lips on my neck, finding that spot that makes me shiver, scent spiking with want and possession. Levi's hand sliding into my hair, tugging slightly, pulling me back so he can kiss me breathless under exploding sky-flowers.
"We should go inside,"someone says—me, maybe, I'm not sure anymore.
"We should stay right here," Luca counters, and his hand is on my thigh, pushing up the skirt of my ridiculous witch costume, thumb stroking the sensitive skin above my stockings.
"Someone could see?—"
"Everyone's watching fireworks," Rowan points out, but he's moving anyway, pulling me to my feet, leading us toward the rooftop door.
We stumble down the stairs in a tangle of security shirts and witch costumes and grabby hands, the pets following with judgmental meows and enthusiastic barking because apparently our entire extended pack family is coming along for this.
The barn nest is closer than my apartment, and when Rowan opens the door, it's exactly as we left it—blankets and pillows and the scent of pack so strong it makes my omega instincts purr with satisfaction.
"Finally," Levi breathes, already pulling his ridiculous shirt over his head. "Been waiting all day for this."
"It's been four hours since the power nap!" I protest.
"Four hours too long!"
Luca's already in the nest, arranging pillows with the efficiency of someone who's done this before, creating the perfect space for what's about to happen. Rowan lifts me easily—cape and all—and deposits me in the center like I'm something precious.
"Still dressed," he observes.
"You're all still dressed too!"
"Easily fixed."
What follows is a chaos of fabric and laughter and hands that know exactly where to touch to make me forget my own name. The witch costume gets tangled in the cape—of course it does—and Levi has to actually cut me out of my stockings because the zipper breaks and we're all too impatient to figure out alternatives.
"Those were expensive!" I protest weakly.
"I'll buy you seventeen new pairs," he promises, kissing down my newly exposed thigh. "In every color. In patterns. In?—"
"Less talking, more—oh."
Because Rowan's found that spot on my neck, the one that makes me arch and gasp and forget why I was protestinganything. And Luca's hands are everywhere, mapping skin he's memorized but touching like it's the first time every time.
Outside, fireworks continue to explode, the sound muffled by barn walls and blankets and the thundering of my own heartbeat. But inside this nest, wrapped in pack scent and autumn warmth and the knowledge that I'm finally, completely safe?—
This is better than any firework show.
Later—much later, when we're tangled together in a pile of satisfied exhaustion, pets curled at our feet, the scent of satisfied omega mixing with happy alphas—I trace patterns on Rowan's chest and think about how far I've come.
From the woman who fled in the middle of the night with nothing but her car and determination.
To this…
To a nest built by hands that love me. A bakery that's become the heart of a town. A pack that protects without possessing, supports without smothering, and loves without conditions.
"What are you thinking?" Luca murmurs, fingers playing with my hair.
