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The haze smothering the edges of my mind sweeps in. Only, for the first time, it doesn’t feel like I’ll drown in it. Because my lifeline is under me, holding me close, filling me in every way there is.
And I can finally drift instead of sinking.
chapter
sixty-three
I cut my Mustang’s engine and fall back against my seat. Tomorrow, I’m going to be as sore as my backed-up balls have been all week.
I’m tired, and I’m pissed. Tonight was supposed to be very simple—win my match and come home to fuck my girl until one of us passed out.
Now there’s all this shit…
Spencer sighs, frowning out the windshield the same way he has been the whole way home. “We need to?—”
But Jonah snaps forward, filling the space between our seats and snarling.
Which is usually my thing, but okay.
I toss him a glare, but then Spencer stiffens, too. He curses viciously and moves, throwing his door open. Jonah’s right behind him.
Why the fuck are they?—
Oh.
Oh fuck me.
That’s why.
Later, I’ll have to replay this mental image for our girl. Three grown men, tripping out of their clothes and over each other’s bare asses to get into her nest.
There’s no help for us, though. Not with the tangy succulence of her scent filling the whole fucking house.
We reach the door and find it cracked open. The pitiful whimpers inside have me gnashing my teeth, ready to say ‘fuck nest etiquette’ and burst in there. Spencer is too quick, though. He shoots me a severe look and slowly opens the door so we can look in.
Goddamn, it’s pretty. There are cute-ass fairy lights in there. Our baby’s beloved plants and her favorite plush purple.
Jesus. I care about decor now?
Guess so. Because when I see what a perfect job my kitten did building us a nest, my hard cock throbs. My knot echoes the pulses as I finally catch sight of Serena and Tristan.
They’re in the center of the mattress built into the floor, clutching one another like they’re keeping each other afloat. Tris lifts his head from her shoulder, where he’s been tending his mark. Serena huddles closer to his throat, though, her own lips rubbing at?—
Holy shit.
She bit him.
I haven’t seen Tristan smile like this in—well, ever. He grins at us and nods, confirming what we’re all trying to wrap our minds around.
They’re bonded.
Which means we all will be if she accepts us.
Or should I say, if her Omega accepts us.
That’s who’s here now. The wordless Omega skirting wide, fearful eyes over to us is every inch the girl we met in that interrogation room.
I still see my fighter in there, though. I just have to coax her out like I did that night.
