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Is she so careful with her things because she’s a careful person? Or is she over-protective of her possessions because she’s not used to having much?
It could be both, the way it is for me.
The longer silence swells between us, the more uncertain she seems. Eventually, her nature gives in to mine, lowering her lashes over those blue-gold eyes in a demur gesture of submission that makes my blood roar.
God. This is so much more than I imagined it would be.
An omega was the final thing on my list for the pack. We have our successful careers, our pack house. A central bond is the only thing left for me to get for the guys.
But this isn’t some checked box on a list.
This is… her.
Our mate.
I feel it in a way I’ve never felt anything else.
And it’s terrifying.
I’m not prepared. I don’t know how to take care of her or what she’ll need. I don’t even know how to tell her how I feel. Or what I feel, for that matter.
I have absolutely no idea what to do. But I know I absolutely cannot mess this up.
“Remi,” I start, but then she shifts from one foot to the other, and I see through the door looming behind her, into what appears to be a bedroom. My eyes snag on the opposite corner, and I freeze, every nerve in my body prickling.
“What is that?”
Her head swivels, face falling when she discovers that I’m staring into her closet.
Into the small nest—on the floor of her closet.
“Answer me,” I warn, barely holding back a bark. “Is that what I think it is? Is that your nest?”
She tugs her robe closed tighter, her scent darkening with shame. “I—It’s—It’s dark and quiet in there,” she squeaks. “These units don’t have built-in nests, so it was either the closet or the bath?—”
I hold up my hands, unable to even hear her suggest that she could ever use a fucking bathtub as her safe space.
Jesus Christ. I’m the worst alpha ever. My omega has been nesting in a closet half the size of a refrigerator.
“That’s where you’ve had your heats?” I shout, a vein pulsing in my neck. “Alone? In a closet? For a week?”
Remi shivers at my rising voice. Instinct snaps her into “calm the alpha mode,” and she tries for a sunny tone. “It’s really not that bad,” she rushes. “My heats only last five days, and I only sleep in there a few nights a?—”
She sleeps in her closet?
Absolutely fucking not.
Absolutely. Fucking. Not.
“Enough,” I snap out. Aggression and dominance pour unwavering command into every word. “Pack a bag, petal. You’re coming with me.”
chapter
twenty-three
I might not be able to read, but I can count.
And everything Remi has fits into eight boxes.
