Page 59 of Stuck with my Pack
Ethan, ever the strategist, waits until I’m distracted before pulling me flush against him, murmuring, “Truce?” before sealing the deal with a slow, deep kiss that makes my knees weak.
There’s a rhythm, an unspoken flow between us that I didn’t even know was possible. A tether tying me to them, strong and certain.
But the moment I step inside, Iknowsomething is wrong. The warmth of the inn doesn’t chase away the sudden chill that prickles at my skin. A sudden cramp deep inside me leaves me aching as a burning warmth floods my skin.
A needy, rich smell perfumes the air around me. My pulse kicks up, my body attuned to the shift before my mind can process it…
It’s coming.
The moment I recognize the sensation, my stomach clenches. My heat is cresting again, curling like smoke inside me, but there’s something different this time.
It’s sharp and sudden, and the instinctual compulsion is almost impossible to ignore. I inhale sharply, and it’s a mistake.
Their scents cling to me, wrapping around my senses, feeding the inferno already burning beneath my skin. Brodie’s deep, rich musk of amber and leather, Tyler’s sharp citrus and spice, Ethan’s dark and grounding cedar scent—all of them swirl together, flooding my lungs, making my pulse race.
The scent of my Alphas.MyAlphas.
A soft keening sound leaves my throat, something dangerously close to a whimper, and panic flutters in my chest.
I need to get away. Suddenly I’m not ready. And the ease of the afternoon disappears.
Before I even register my own movements, I slip from the room, feet carrying me upstairs on instinct. My body is humming, my skin too sensitive, my mind spinning. I need something, but I don’t know what—until I reach my bedroom.
The moment I step inside, a strange, consuming instinct overtakes me. I pause in the doorway, my gaze sweeping across the space, and I know.
My nest. I need to build my nest.
The idea takes root so quickly that it feels like a revelation. How have I never done this before? I’ve never felt motivated to build a nest before beyond a cozy bed.
I never thought that I’d everneedit. But now the need is overwhelming, a frantic desire curling through my blood.
I drag my mattress from the bedframe, the heavy weight of it barely registering as I shove it into the farthest corner of the room. The space feels safer there, more enclosed, moreright.
The compulsion inside me only grows as I gather every soft, plush thing I own—blankets, pillows, comforters, even my thickest sweaters—piling them into a circular shape, tucking and adjusting, shifting things until it feels just right.
My hands work on instinct, smoothing fabric, fluffing edges, layering textures until the nest is deep and warm, a cocoon of softness meant just for me.
I lay down in my newly made nest, wanting to bask in my hard work, but as soon as I snuggle in and inhale, I’m sitting back up. I sit back on my heels, flushed with effort, something ismissing.
It’s not the structure, not the comfort. It’s their scent. The ache inside me intensifies, the craving almost unbearable. I need them here. I needthemwoven into this space, wrapped around me, in every fiber, in every inhale. Only then will it feel complete.
I turn on my heel and head downstairs to where I know they are. I move through the inn as though possessed, searching, collecting.
The first thing I reach for is the pile of blankets draped over the couch. The scent of all the Alphas is on it, but Brodie’s smell lingers in the fabric most of all, warm and familiar, and I clutch them tightly, my breath shuddering out as I inhale.
The smell soothes the raw edges of my need, but it isn’t enough. I need more. Tucking the blankets under my arm, I move on.
I strip Ethan’s worn flannel from the coat rack, my knees nearly buckling at the rush of scent that clings to it—dark spice, pine and warmth, like the lingering embers of a fire.
I drag Tyler’s hoodie from the back of a chair, the citrus and wild spice sending a dizzy shiver through me. Then Brodie’sheavy, worn sweater, the rich scent of amber and leather nearly undoing me.
Item after item, I hoard them, carrying my treasures back upstairs. My arms are full, my fingers clutching at fabric, my body thrumming with something both desperate and soothing all at once.
When I reach my bedroom again, I don’t hesitate. I pull the blinds and turn on the little salt lamp by the bedside table, I brought with me, wanting the dim lighting.
I pile everything onto my bed, arranging it in soft layers, building something thatfeelsright. I don’t know the rules of nesting, but I don’t care.
I just know that I need them, their scent, their warmth, surrounding me, grounding me. My fingers shake as I work, as I burrow myself into the nest I’ve made, wrapping myself in their clothing, their lingering presence.
