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This morning at breakfast, he stopped reading his research just to kiss Serena’s forehead. And then he let her touch his arm.
Tristan almost choked on his coffee.
That was new, too—Tristan and Serena eating breakfast at the counter like there was only a barstool between them and not a whole damn ocean.
Who knows if that has anything to do with what I find when I come downstairs.
Maybe it’s just her hormones or her instincts Her scent has been lighter day-by-day—sweeter with a high sort of sharpness instead of that deep, dark sting she arrived with.
Maybe she’s just… happy. Comfortable.
The thought puts a smile on my face as I turn down her hallway.
And see the impossible.
Our gorgeous omega. Building our nest.
She looks so cute, wearing one of Avery’s black hoodies, shuffling on her knees from one section of the circular floor mattress to the other.
Long legs bare, face makeup-free. I think this is my favorite look for her. Natural and somehow still so glamorous—she just has that way about her, even on the days I find her elbow-deep in our flower beds.
She likes to look polished—blowing out her hair, waxing her body, wearing little skirts and platform heels.
But I don’t think she has to even try. She’s glorious just like this.
Especially in her nest.
I hope her scent is sinking into every fucking fiber.
It’s been years since I saw the inside of the small, rounded room. I know it has a side door that connects to her bathroom and the suite on the other side, but that’s all I really remember.
I guess that wouldn’t matter anyway. She’s changed everything.
And I love it.
From my vantage point in the hall, I can just barely see the curling tendrils of hanging plants, gently swinging over the nest. She’s strung up several, tangled with soft strings of twinkling lights.
It’s beautiful. Because it’s her. The dark, sensual fabrics. The moody lighting. The greenery she loves so much.
When I get close enough to see the whole room, the plants make more sense. She’s hung them to absorb the sunlight streaming in through the dome of windows overhead.
I don’t remember it being so bright. Will that upset her during her heat? Hanging more plants might help. Knowing Tris, there’s probably some remote that tints the glass or releases a shade.
If Serena is bothered by it, I can’t tell. In fact, I know from her creamy, golden scent that she’s content. Tucking rich purple cushions into plush piles, fluffing out matching blankets, and arranging them into specific swirls.
I watch closely, memorizing the movements in case she needs me to help her rebuild anything later. My scent swells without me noticing—but the second she senses it, she pauses, turning to raise a brow at me.
“Ready for your game, big man?”
God, I am so in love with this woman.
It fills my throat, turning my voice into a rasp. “As I’ll ever be.” I gesture around the beautiful nest. “Looks like you’ve been hard at work, little hummingbird.”
Her expression turns shy as she shrugs. “I woke up this morning and just felt like I needed to start.” A tiny quiver moves through her. “Shit, should I have asked you guys first?”
I smile wider. She has a filthy mouth, just like me and Ave. I love it.
“You never have to ask us, manamea. This is your home. You do whatever you want.”
