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Ronan makes a gruff sound of disgust. I feel it snag a piece out of my heart before I realize it isn’t directed at me at all; he’s mad at himself. His solid hands cup my shoulders from behind, adding to the comfort of Archer’s touch.
“My sweet baby girl,” he rumbles. “I should have clarified—there is nothing wrong with your clothes or the way you dress. We love the way you look. We only wanted to get you some gear for gamedays, team events, date nights, the gala we’re hosting in a few weeks. And your room needs furniture, of course. We want you to pick anything you want. Decor, clothes. All of it.”
Theo presses in, his scent washing over me in a comforting burst of springy lemongrass. “I told them I’d personally prefer for you to be naked at all times,” he grumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “But Daddy vetoed that suggestion.”
He always knows how to make me laugh. Even when I’m teetering on the edge of a meltdown, just like that first day in the elevator. I giggle at him calling Ronan “Daddy” and he grins back, his eyes a mix of joy and worry.
His body draws closer and the rest follow. Until I’m packed between three thick walls of muscle. Something about that soothes my omega instincts. I still don’t know what’s disturbed me, but I know that these alphas are here to handle it.
Archer’s long fingers curl around my free wrist, sliding down to weave into mine. “A lot of studies have recorded verifiable health benefits when omegas receive gifts from their alphas. It’s proven to increase their serotonin levels and even out their other hormones. It’s also a biological imperative for us. We want to provide for you. Our natures demand it.”
Everything he says makes total sense. And I know they have money to burn. Obviously. Plus, Remi warned me that proper courting usually involves all sorts of gifts and grandiosity. I felt prepared for exactly this. So why is it freaking me out?
Unless… maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s something else.
I replay the last ten minutes, my throat swelling with panic when I get to one specific part. “The nest,” I whisper.
Shame rises inside of me. I huddle closer to Archer on instinct. Because… I need to. Because he’s the one who will understand. He’s the one who loves to understand me.
His smooth, rolling purr greets me as I press my ear over his heart. I feel his fingertips take my pulse where it batters the thin skin at my wrist. The vibrations resonating in his chest snag on a sharp inhale the second he realizes, “You’re scared to build a nest.”
Gritting my teeth, I blow air through my nose, forcing myself to be honest. Even though part of me is sure they’re three seconds away from shoving my defective ass out the door.
After all, what kind of omega doesn’t want to nest? Or worse.
But I have to tell them. They deserve to know how broken I am.
“I am scared to build one here,” I admit, talking to Archer’s chest. “I’m scared I—I’ve never—What if I build my nest here and then…”
The others rush to speak, but Archer must give them one hell of a look. His arms fold around me, his purr deepening as he hums, “Mmm. I understand. That’s a very valid concern, and one we didn’t think about. We should all discuss how we feel about that. I can tell you right now that I personally cannot imagine any other omega in that nest upstairs. To me, it’s as good as yours. I’d move before I ever took it away from you.”
Ronan and Theo’s replies collide over my head. “Absolutely,” the alpha says, his voice menacingly final. Just as my big guy scoffs, “Oh duh, peaches.”
When none of my muscles unwind, Archer still doesn’t lose his patience. He kisses my forehead, whispering, “What else, love?”
I snuggle closer to his spiced scent, fisting the back of his shirt. My eyes snap shut as I force out the last bit of truth I have to offer.
“I’ve never made a nest before, and I don’t know how.”
There’s a horrible beat of silence. I hold my breath, waiting for the inevitable scorn.
The judgment. Confusion. Rejection.
Theo speaks first. Of course. “Why not, precious?”
“I’ve been on my own. My apartments have been small. I’ve been alone for all my heats, and I—I guess I thought I didn’t need one. Or deserve one.”
His thick arm somehow wedges its way between my stomach and Archer’s hips while the other slips between the small of my back and Ronan’s abs. He squeezes me hard.
“Oh, peaches.” Theo sounds sadder than I’ve ever heard him. “I’m so sorry you felt like that.”
It’s the second apology he’s given me that straight-up doesn’t make sense. My head pops up, swiveling to search their faces, trying to understand.
Archer’s dark eyes are soft, full of compassion and concern. Theo seems heartbroken, his shifting green gaze full of grief. Ronan looks pissed, but in a distinctly outraged way that I recognize—he’s angry for me, not at me.
We’re all so caught up in the moment that none of us hear the footsteps. Or smell the torched vanilla wafting from the landing below.
Declan announces himself with a firm bark.
