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Chapter seven
Bethany
There is something strangegoing on with them, but I’m too sore and tired to care. I didn’t sleep well, my body was wracked with hot flushes and chills all night, and my joints ache. I remember reading about these as possible pre-heat symptoms. But the actual reality of it is miserable.
All I can smell is passion fruit, and I feel slightly nauseous. With a groan, I shuffle into the kitchen and slump down onto one of the kitchen chairs. I think it’s the groan that draws their attention. I open my eyes, ready to tell them I’ll go back to bed, but Saint is kneeling in front of me, looking up at me with a concerned look on his face.
How did he move so fast? But he is so pretty, and he makes my heart flutter.
“You don’t look so good, Bethany.”
“I feel awful,” I whisper.
He stands up smoothly and picks me up. I’m carried back through the house to my bedroom, but at the door, I make a wordless protest. There are so many things wrong with that room, but the most important part is it has no smells.
Saint reverses direction and opens a door down the hall. All at once, I’m surrounded by their scents. It’s soaked into everything in this room. He gently lays me down in a soft bed, and then pulls the curtains shut so I’m lying in the dark.
I close my eyes while he returns and tucks the blanket around me. It’s such a tender gesture, and it smoothes the jagged pieces of me I have been neglecting since I ran away.
He lies beside me and strokes my hair, running his fingers along my scalp in tiny circles that make me want to purr. The gesture is soothing, but the ache grows in my lower abdomen like a heavy weight or a ball of molten steel. I pant and writhe, soaking their sheets in sweat.
Hunter comes into the room, bringing a wave of coffee air with him, and kneels on the bed. I know without looking that it’s him. He’s stubborn, but he coaxes me into sitting up and sipping the broth he’s made.
But it isn’t until Crow comes and lies on top of me, pressing me into the mattress, his scent surrounding me, that it eases back, giving me a few peaceful minutes to fall into an uneasy sleep.
Every time I wake up, they are there, feeding me water and soup, wiping me down with compresses. Giving me painkillers and making sure I’m being cared for. And slowly, I feel them become a part of me. An extension of me.
At some point, I’m aware that I call for them, and they answer me immediately. My pack. I need them to touch me, to hold me. I need more than this, more than…
I need knots.
I sit up on a gasp as the erotic fantasies playing in my head slip away and look around the room as if to make sure the dreamreally was just a dream. The alphas are all in bed on either side of me, but they’re completely out of it. They look so beautiful in the dark, huge masculine shapes, their chests rising and falling with each breath they take.
I scurry out of the bed, slipping out of the room, a silent thief in the night. There is no logic to my madness, just this drive, this urgency that pushes me uneasily into frantic motion. I wander until I find the perfect room, and then I start my project.
I go back to the bedroom and steal clothes, blankets, and a lamp. They don’t hear a thing. On my second pass, I go to my bedroom, my mind fixed on the fluffy blankets I remember seeing. I snatch it up, along with five pillows, and return my stolen loot to my chosen space.
On and on through the long, dark night, I repeat my steps and silently build my nest.
At last, as the sun rises, it’s done. I look around. Every inch of the floor is covered in so many layers of fabric that it’s actually comfortable to lie on. I even found some thin mattresses and laid them down underneath. The room is a perfect circle, with only one entrance and a massive line of eight stained glass windows that sit higher than my head. As I watch, the room comes alive with reds, blues, greens, and yellows. The light dances, and I step into it, vividly remembering my dad holding my hand while he brought me into an old building that had long since been abandoned. I’d watched in complete awe as the light hit the windows and transformed the room. It made me think that anything is possible.
Love is like these lights. You can’t touch it, but it’s there, changing your perspective and touching the shadows inside of you. That’s why this room is my nest. It’s my gift to my alphas to show them how beautiful these moments can be.
There is no doubt in my mind that they will end up mine. I just need to show them how much I love them.
Around the room, I’ve placed three lamps, stashed food and drink. It’s perfect. There’s even a bathroom two rooms down the hall.
I peel the blankets back and lay down. The scents are strong, but it’s cold, and I want the pack here. I’m too tired to move, though, so with a yawn that makes my jaw crack, I burrow deeper under the blankets until I’m completely covered.
I inhale their smells and then scoop up a whole heap of material and drag it to my nose and inhale over and over. In the back of mind, a small voice of logic is begging for me to stop, but I can’t.
I let out a very unlike me giggle. The image of my pack comes into my mind. Saint with that beautiful hair and those dangerous eyes. I slide my hand down and grip my aching breast. Hunter flashes his dimples in my direction and peels off his top, leaving all that massive expanse of bronzed flesh. I moan and slide my hands down to where I’m really aching.
I’m so wet. When I push a finger into myself, it goes in with no hesitation at all. I pump it in and out, and then drag the heel of my hand up and crush my clit as I remember Crow eating me out.
I whine and spread my legs further apart. When did I lose my pants and underwear? I rub and touch myself until my hips are rising and falling, chasing a climax that isn’t coming. I ache so badly.
With a growl, I flip the blankets off me and pull my slicksoaked fingers out and up to my mouth. I’m sucking on them when I become aware of the very dangerous atmosphere.
