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It makes me smile to think of him lying with this next to him at night. Is it from his childhood?
It’s worn around the edges like he’s had it for a number of years. It’s deeply scented of him in a way that the sheets aren’t. I glow that he’d add it to my nest.
I’ve never been in a nest built by an Alpha before.
The ivory shutters have been opened, and the windows have been thoughtfully flung open, allowing a breeze to cool my flushed cheeks.
Morning light streams through.
Shit, I’ve slept the full night here.
I can just make out a garden with clipped bushes and rose gardens beyond, which is surrounded by a high stone wall. My eyes light up at the glimpse of a real peacock’s tail, which is perched on a sloping lawn.
The peacock’s gentle honking is soothing.
I remember the photograph of Thomas that Lincoln showed me on his iPhone.
I’m inside that mansion.
My pulse roars inside my ears at the thought.
Yet it’s equal parts excitement as fear.
The room is grand with high ceilings and wooden floors. It’s meticulously neat.
My eye is caught by a deep alcove on the far wall, next to an engraved teak chest of drawers and wardrobe. The floor to ceiling high alcove is filled with books. Some have their spines hanging off or are faded like they’ve been well read.
Yet next to that is an alcove that’s equally crammed with vinyl records.
Perhaps, Vito could be convinced to like Thomas.
A book lies beside the bed on the nightstand with a worn leather bookmark in it.
I smile, hugging the stuffie, imagining Thomas sitting here late at night quietly reading.
If I had more energy, then I’d lean and open the book, touching the pages that his fingers have lovingly stroked.
The bed has been pushed up against the wall, and it makes the nest easier to snuggle into and feel safer.
It’s my nest fortress.
Shimmering blue and green satin drapes, which match the color of the wallpaper, cover the four-poster bed.
A fan is slowly turning overhead. But I’m still burning up from the inside.
Thomas is the only one who can put out the flames and help me through this heat.
Where is he?
“Tom,” I whimper. “Alpha.”
“I know that you miss this ass,” I hear the door open, and Lincoln slips into the bedroom, “but you’d really go to extreme lengths to see me again.”
“Shut up, gargoyle,” I mumble but I’m grinning.
Even though the fire hasn’t abated, which is raging through me, knowing that Lincoln is here has made my anxiety lower.
When I hold out my hand, Lincoln immediately marches across the bedroom. His shoes are loud on the wooden floor, and it strikes me how peaceful it is here.
