Page 38 of Knot The Nanny We Planned

My nesting instinct surges. Not a whisper anymore. Not a suggestion. A demand. A biological imperative so strong it makes my vision blur and my body shake and my inner omega scream.

Build. Gather. Nest. Now.

JD feels the shift. His arms tighten around me, and he inhales sharply, scenting the change, the surge of omega pheromones, the sudden, overwhelming need.

"She's going into nesting," he says. His voice is low and rough, the Alpha in him responding to the shift in my biology.

Knox's head snaps up. "Now?"

"Now."

They move. Quickly, efficiently, the way they must have moved in crises before, in foster homes, on the streets, in the early days of building an empire. JD carries me to the master bedroom. Deklan pulls the comforter off the bed and starts gathering materials, pillows, blankets, sheets. Knox disappears and returns with an armful of clothes.

"Shirts," he says, dumping them on the bed. "Mine, JD's, Deklan's. They'll smell like us."

I reach for them. My hands are shaking, and the moment I touch the fabric - soft cotton, worn flannel - the scent of pine and smoke and cedar floods my senses, and something clicks. The nesting instinct takes over, and I'm not Willow anymore. I'm omega. Pure omega. Building a home.

I arrange the shirts in the center of the bed. Layer them. Flatten them. I pull the pillows into a circle, creating a wall, a boundary, a nest. The blankets go over the shirts, and I tuck the edges under, creating a soft, scented hollow in the center of the massive bed.

JD watches from the doorway. His black eyes are burning, and I can see the effort it's taking him not to move. Not to touch. Not to claim.

Knox stands beside him, his jaw tight, his scent thick with arousal.

Deklan sits on the edge of the bed, close, but not in the nest, and watches me with those dark, steady eyes.

"Beautiful," he murmurs. "You're beautiful, Willow."

I finish the nest and crawl into the center. The scent of them surrounds me, pine, smoke, and cedar, layered into every fiber of the fabric. I pull the blankets up around my shoulders and curl into a ball, and for the first time in my life, the nesting instinct is satisfied. Not complete, a nest without mates is only half finished, but close. Safe. Warm.

"Stay," I whisper. "All of you. Stay."

JD moves first. He crosses the room and lowers himself onto the bed, his massive frame settling behind me, his chest pressed against my back. His arm drapes over my waist, heavy and warm, and his mouth finds the curve of my neck.

Knox takes the other side. He lies facing me, his green eyes inches from mine, his hand resting on my hip. His thumb traces small circles on the bare skin above my waistband.

Deklan settles at the foot of the nest, his back against the headboard, his hand resting on my ankle. A quiet anchor. A steady presence.

Three men. Three scents. One omega.

I close my eyes. My body is still aching, slick and aroused, the scent-match humming through my blood, but the desperation has eased. The panic has faded. I'm here. I'm staying.

And for the first time since Serena's words poisoned me, the voices in my head are quiet.

"Sleep," JD murmurs against my neck. "We'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?"

"Promise," Knox says, his thumb still tracing circles on my hip.

"Promise," Deklan says from the head of the bed.

I dream again.

Not of heat this time. Not of mouths and hands and the slick, desperate coupling of the last dream. This dream is different.

I'm in a house. Not the penthouse, a real house, with a yard and a porch and a swing hanging from a tree. Lily is older, four, maybe five, and she's laughing, chasing a dog across the grass. A big dog. Golden, like Knox's hair.

Inside the house, I can hear voices. JD, deep and steady, talking about something I can't make out the words. Knox's laugh, bright and unguarded. Deklan's quiet murmur, the rhythm of a man at peace.