Page 47 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

"You're settled here?" he asked, his voice low and private. "Comfortable?"

I nodded, running my fingers over the soft fabric of one of the quilts. "More than I expected to be," I admitted. "Thank you for..." I gestured vaguely at the piles of nesting materials, unsure how to articulate my gratitude without sounding overly emotional.

Gabriel smiled, a genuine expression that softened his usually serious features. "No need to thank us. This is your space while you're here. We want you to feel safe."

Something in his tone—the sincerity, perhaps, or the lack of Alpha condescension I'd grown accustomed to—made my throat tighten unexpectedly. I swallowed hard, nodding instead of trusting my voice.

"I'll leave you to your nesting," he said, taking a step toward the door. He paused, hand on the doorknob. "If you need anything—anything at all—just call out. One of us will hear you."

With that, he slipped out, closing the door softly behind him. I stood for a moment in the silence, strangely moved by the care these Alphas had shown me. It ran counter to everything I thought I knew about Alphas, especially ones in positions of authority.

I turned to the piles of nesting materials, running my hands over the various textures—soft fleece, sturdy cotton, silky throws, and plush pillows. The star-patterned quilt Dakota had brought caught my eye again, its pattern intricate and clearly handmade. I lifted it to my face, inhaling deeply. Though it carried no strong scent, there was something comforting about it—I glance back at the door again, my heart warming at theses four alphas.

The familiar tug of nesting instinct pulled at me, and I surrendered to it, allowing my hands to work almost automatically. I started with the foundation—the sturdier pillows Lucas had brought, arranging them in a rough semicircle against the wall beneath the window. The star-patterned quilt came next, draped carefully to create a soft base.

Layer by layer, I built upward and outward, weaving blankets and throws into a structure that felt increasingly right. Each addition was deliberate, guided by an instinct older than conscious thought. The softest materials went inside, creating a cocoon of comfort that would cradle me when I curled up within. Sturdier fabrics formed the outer layers, a symbolic barrier between me and the world.

As I worked, my thoughts quieted for the first time since the attack. There was only this—the textures beneath my fingers, the rhythm of folding and tucking, the growing sense of security as the nest took shape. It was meditative, this ancient ritual, connecting me to something primal and certain in a time when nothing else felt secure.

Nearly an hour passed before I stood back to survey my work. The nest was beautiful—a perfect circle of soft fabrics in soothing blues, greens, and neutrals. It looked inviting, safe, exactly what I needed to process the emotional upheaval of the past few days.

I crawled inside, arranging the last few pillows around me as I settled into the center. The tensions I'd been carrying in my shoulders began to melt away as I curled up, surrounding myself with softness on all sides. For the first time since the attack, I felt truly secure.

My eyelids grew heavy as I nestled deeper into the nest. I hadn't realized how exhausted I was—I close my eyes and seep deeper into the nest, finally letting sleep win over and let myself fully relax.

Chapter Twenty

Gabriel POV

Shelingeredinmymind long after we left the bedroom.

Vivian Reed, the Omega nesting in our spare room, was currently burrowed deep in a fortress of blankets and pillows, her scent curling around every soft fabric she could get her hands on. Nesting. Safe. Starting to trust us—at least enough to be here. But she wasn’t ours. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

I sat in the living room with Lucas, Theo and Dakota, a handful of case files spread across the coffee table, but my attention kept drifting down the hallway to the room she’d claimed. I could still smell her—Forget-me-nots and something sun-warmed and fierce—woven into every corner of the house now. She'd only been here a day, but it already felt like she'd reshaped everything.

"You're distracted," Dakota muttered, lounging on the couch beside me, tapping a pen against one of the files.

"I'm focused," I replied, not looking up from the file in my hands—a detailed report on the blood sample we'd collected from Vivian's shop. The DNA hadn't matched any in our database, which was both frustrating and telling. Whoever had attacked her was careful enough to avoid having their genetic profile recorded.

"Your eyes keep drifting toward her room," Dakota pressed, his voice low enough that only I could hear him. "You've read the same page four times."

I glanced up, meeting his knowing gaze. "She's a witness under our protection. Of course I'm concerned about her welfare."

Dakota snorted softly. "Right. That's all it is."

"We all are distracted," Lucas replied before I could formulate a response, his eyes fixed on the case file in his hands but clearly not processing the information. "Hard not to be with an Omega building a nest under our roof."

Theo glanced up from his tablet, adjusting his glasses. "It's a natural response to her pheromones. Even at this distance, we're all registering her distress and responding to it instinctively."

"I'm not distracted," Dakota grumbled, though the continuous tapping of his pen betrayed him.

I shot him a knowing look. "Your leg hasn't stopped bouncing since we sat down."

Dakota immediately stilled his leg, scowling. "Fine. It's... unusual having an Omega here. Especially one who's nesting."

"Unusual is one word for it," Lucas muttered, finally setting down his file with a sigh.

I leaned back, rubbing my eyes. We weren't getting anywhere with this case, not while our collective attention was divided. "Let's take a break. Get some fresh air, clear our heads."

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