Page 80 of What We Don't Say: Part One

“Green.” Theo answers quickly, then reaches toward him. “Idris. Here.”

Idris steps in at once. “Where do you want me?”

Theo looks around the nest, frowning with concentration. He pats the space near my legs first, then changes his mind and points closer to Sloane’s side, where Idris can reach all of us. “There.”

“There,” Idris agrees, and the faint smile in his voice makes my throat tighten.

He settles where Theo points, close enough for one hand to rest at my ankle and the other to brush Theo’s shoulder. The pressure in the room changes again, not heavier, but held, with Sloane’s mouth still at my neck, Theo’s cheek against my knee, and Idris’s thumb moving once over my ankle like he’s counting my pulse through skin.

Theo turns toward the door before any of us hear the next footsteps. “Garrett.”

I go still for half a second before I can help it. Sloane’s arms tighten around me, not enough to restrain, only enough to say he felt it, and Idris’ eyes flick up, sharp and unreadable, as Garrett appears in the doorway in a dark robe over sleep clothes, his hair slightly mussed for once.

Garrett takes in the room more slowly than Idris did. His gaze lingers on Theo first, then on the nest, then on Sloane’s arms around me and Idris’s hand at my ankle, and when he looks back to Theo, his expression softens in that head-Alpha way that has made the house feel steadier a hundred times before.

“You called?” Garrett asks.

Theo nods and pats the space on his other side, the one away from me. “Here.”

Garrett doesn’t look at me for permission, and he doesn’t look at Sloane for challenge. He looks at Theo, because Theo is the one who asked. “Color?”

“Green.”

Then Garrett enters the nest.

He moves with more care than I expect, lowering himself on Theo’s other side and letting Theo arrange him with a flushed little huff of concentration. Garrett’s robe brushes my calf as he settles, close enough that his mint and leather slides into the warm tangle of Sloane, Idris, Theo, and me.

Theo sits between us, one shoulder angled toward Garrett and one knee pressed against my thigh, and for a moment, no one moves. This is the shape Theo wanted: Garrett on one side of him, me on the other, Sloane behind me, Idris close enough to touch all the seams.

Theo looks around at all of us, cheeks pink, eyes shining, and whispers, “Stay.”

Sloane’s breath leaves him against my neck. Idris’ hand tightens gently at my ankle, Garrett’s palm settles between Theo’s shoulders, and I put my fingers palm-up on the blanket near Theo’s knee. He covers them with his own.

“We’re staying,” Garrett says.

For several minutes, that is all it is: warmth, breath, Sloane pressing drowsy, hungry kisses along my shoulder, Idris watching Theo’s face and rubbing slow circles against my ankle. Garrett keeps one hand on Theo’s back, steady and broad, while Theo leans first into him, then into me, then sits up again like he’s making sure we’re all still where he placed us.

I’ve spent weeks waiting for the moment someone would realize I’m in the wrong part of the room. Tonight, no one moves me.

Theo’s scent changes first.

It slips through the nest in a warm pulse of cardamom and peach blossom, sweet and sharp at once. His fingers tighten over mine, and then his whole body shudders, hard enough that Garrett’s hand stills on his back.

Sloane lifts his head from my neck with a sound that is almost a growl and almost my name. Idris’ fingers close around myankle before Sloane’s body can surge forward on instinct, and his voice cuts through the sudden heat with clean, controlled authority.

“Theo. Color.”

Theo’s breath stutters. He looks at Garrett, then at me, then down at our joined hands. “Green.”

Garrett shifts closer to him. “Come here.”

Theo goes quick and eager, turning into Garrett’s chest with a needy sound that makes every Alpha in the room sharpen. I feel Sloane’s body answer behind me, hard and hot and immediate, but his arm stays locked around me instead of reaching past me for Theo.

His mouth finds the side of my throat again, and this time the kiss has teeth in it. “Fuck, baby,” Sloane murmurs against my skin. “Look at him.”

I do.

Theo is kneeling between us now, half-turned into Garrett, one hand still locked around mine. Garrett cups the back of Theo’s neck and says something too low for me to catch, and Theo melts toward the sound with his eyes open and fixed on me, dark and wet and hungry enough to make my thighs press together.