Page 94 of Into the Fire: After
Her excitement in the bond felt like a hummingbird’s wings, flapping against my heart, as she slowly ascended the enclosed staircase and passed through the pocket door at the top. We followed carefully, reverentially, behind.
Taryn had been dreaming and planning for her nest for years. Even before she’d met Brea, her apartment with her grandmother hadn’t had a nest just for her. So we’d had no shortage of sketches, inspiration photos, wish lists, and shopping bookmarks to go from.
The attic’s pitched roofline was the perfect cozy nest ceiling, making the space feel small and secure. We’d added drywall and painted it a soft sage green in eggshell, then Brea had added swirls and simple designs in a glossy paint of the same shade. Forest green netting draped from the ceiling, adding an even more cave-like sense of enclosure.
Firm padding covered the entire floor, soft enough to sleep on without hindering movement, and covered in a heat-specific forest green velvet-like cover that could be removed for washing.
Scattered across the room were dozens—literally—of pillows and blankets of every size and weight and texture. Fluffy rose pink pillow the size of my torso. Silver blanket with a wide knit to encourage airflow. Dark brown cushion large enough for our omega, and maybe even Brooks, to curl up and sleep on top of. Gold and green weighted blanket big enough for at least three of us. Wedges and cylinders, and more than a few full-length body pillows in various hues.
So on and so forth.
As per Brea’s insistence, there was nobig light, only a string of lights that rimmed the ceiling, casting a low, warm glow over all of us. It connected to a dimmer, though even the brightest setting should be gentle enough on a sensitive omega’s eyes.
Caine rubbed his hand along Taryn’s arm as she stared around the nest in shock. “That door,” he said softly, pointing to a door just to my right, “goes to a small bathroom. It’s a tight squeeze, but when we need a quick rinse—”
“Or to take a piss,” Brooks put in helpfully.
“—it’ll get the job done,” Caine finished out between gritted teeth.
Brea squeezed by us, taking her mate’s hand and leading her to a small hutch in the corner. We’d painted it to match and blend in with the sage green walls, complete with Brea’s contrasting embellishments. “And here, we’ve got space for plenty of rations. Snacks, water, even an ice chest for meats and cheeses and fruit.”
We’d tested five different ones, choosing the one that had kept ice frozen for five days, even in direct sunlight.
A brown wicker basket in the corner would be a heat-week hamper. The bathroom was stocked with more towels than we could use in two heats. (Hopefully, anyway.) And one cabinet of the hutch hid a cloth basket filled with lube, vibrators, rope, cuffs—everything any of us thought our lust-crazed omega could want for herself or us.
Once the heat passed, a switch on the wall would open the specially designed vents that would air the space out, giving it a fresh clean feel for the next heat. Or, really, whenever our omega wanted. This was her space. Her sanctuary. Her cozy cave, to do with as she pleased in between heats.
“Anything that’s not right,” I murmured in her ear as she stared around the room, mouth agape, “anything you don’t like, we can change. Whatever it is.” I kissed her temple and let her take it all in.
Taryn exhaled an incredulous laugh. “Not right?” She turned toward us, eyes shining and the color high in her cheeks. “It’s like you plucked it directly from my brain. It’s…” Tears leaked down her face as she tackled me in a hug, the two of us stumbling back against the wall.
No worries—we’d used a durable and easy-to-clean and touch up outdoor paint.
I returned her embrace, burying my nose in her hair.
“This is all yours, sweet Omega,” I whispered. “No other omega has ever, or will ever, have this room. Only ever yours.”
Her shoulders shook with sobs. I’d have been concerned, except her bond absolutely flooded me with euphoric joy.
The rest of them piled on, a crushing weight of squeezing arms around us.
In other words, pure heaven.
Brooks
Iwoketoatugging at my boxers. Warm fingers on my skin. Melted toffee—decadent, salty and sweet—the room, the scent making me groan. And also instantly hard.
“Aw, sweetness,” I murmured, reaching blindly for my omega as I hadn’t yet found the strength to open my eyes, “you know if you wanna play, you just need to ask.”
My fingers found hers, scrabbling against my bare thighs. She slapped away my hand.
That woke me up real fast.
Eyes snapping open, I looked for her in the dark.
“Sweetness?”
She purr-growled at me, still tugging at my boxers that were caught on my stacked knees. Under one bent arm, she'd pinned what looked like t-shirts, and a pair of lacy panties dangled from her mouth.
