Page 53 of A Promise of Forever
But looking at the alternatives, waiting for Wilson to pick his moment and his ground, I know we don't have a choice. Sometimes the only way to protect family is to drag the threat into the open and deal with it decisively.
I just hope Sterling and Forrest's bond is strong enough to survive what's coming.
Forrest
Sterling has been exploring the house for most of the afternoon, gradually growing more comfortable passing the staff members who've been giving him respectful space while remaining available if he needs anything. I've been watching from my office and catching occasional glimpses when he wanders past, making sure nothing triggers his anxiety.
The breakthrough happened about an hour ago when he actually initiated a conversation with Marcus about breakfast preferences. I could feel Sterling's nervousness through the bond as he approached the head of household staff, but also hisdetermination to push past his fear. Marcus, bless him, handled it perfectly by treating Sterling like his opinion genuinely mattered rather than just humoring an Omega.
Now, Sterling is finishing up the breakfast that resulted from that conversation, perfectly scrambled eggs with herbs that Marcus apparently grows in the kitchen garden specifically for cooking. I step out of my office to check on him directly rather than just sensing him through the bond, needing the visual confirmation that he's truly comfortable and happy.
But something stops me as I get closer. Sterling's scent has changed slightly, developing a new note that wasn't there before. There's a honey quality layered over his usual apricot and vanilla, sweeter than normal in ways that make my protective instincts flare with concern. His cheeks are also flushed rosy pink, like he's been exerting himself or running a fever.
I pull out my phone immediately and start researching what the scent change could mean, typing in variations of "Omega scent honey after heat" and "post-heat scent changes" with growing urgency. Most of the results just talk about general after-effects of heat cycles, nothing specific about this particular shift. Some mention that scents can fluctuate for a few days after an intense heat as hormones rebalance, but the honey note specifically isn't mentioned anywhere I can find.
Sterling notices my attention and comes over with concern written across his features. "What's wrong? I can feel something through the bond, like you're worried about something."
The observation reminds me how clearly emotions travel through our new connection. I can't hide my concerns from him the way I could before we bonded, which means I need to either explain or deliberately block him out. And blocking feels wrong, like a rejection of the intimacy we've just built.
"Nothing," I say, shoving my phone into my pocket and forcing my expression into something more relaxed. "Just checking some work messages."
It's a weak lie and Sterling probably knows it, but he doesn't push. Instead, he accepts my deflection with a small nod.
I decide to distract both of us by offering something I've been meaning to do anyway. "Want to walk through the house with me? I can show you all the different rooms and explain what they were originally used for."
Sterling's face lights up with genuine interest as he scurries back over to his plate to clean up. Marcus chuckles at his insistence to set everything at least in the sink before Sterling attaches himself to my side and we start moving through the halls together. I find myself talking more than I usually do, explaining the history of each space and how the house has evolved over generations.
"More people used to live here," I admit as we pass a wing of closed bedrooms. "When my parents were alive, this place felt full. Staff had their own quarters, family members visited and stayed for weeks, business associates were constantly being entertained. It was loud and chaotic and alive."
Sterling's hand finds mine as we walk, his smaller fingers threading through mine. "But things slowly changed after your fathers died?"
"Yeah," I confirm, my voice rougher than I intended. "Something kind of broke when they died. The car accident was sudden, with no warning or time to prepare. One day they were here planning a party, the next day Caelan and I were trying to figure out how to run an empire we weren't sure we were ready for."
We stop in front of what used to be a game room, now closed up and collecting dust. Through the window, I can see the furniture covered in sheets like ghosts of better times.
"Why didn't you move them back in?" Sterling asks softly. "Your brother and his pack could live here, couldn't they? And maybe Thea? Lorcan? Make it feel alive again?"
The question catches me off guard because it's so simple and obvious. Why haven't I asked them to come home? The house has more than enough space, and having family close would make operations easier and probably improve everyone's quality of life.
I laugh, but it sounds hollow even to my own ears. "It just never happened, I guess. After our parents died, Caelan moved out to establish his own space with Bryn and Astra. Thea has her own place that she's comfortable in. And I just... I didn't know what to do with all this empty space. Didn't know how to make it feel like home again without them here."
Sterling stops walking and turns to face me fully, his hazel eyes seeing more than I'm comfortable revealing. "You miss them. Your parents."
It's not a question, and the certainty in his voice makes my throat tight with emotion I usually keep locked down. I back him up gently against the wall, needing the physical contact to ground myself, and press a soft kiss to his lips.
When we break apart, Sterling keeps his hand pressed against my chest, right over my heart. "I didn't think I'd feel you this clearly through the bond, but I can sense everything you're feeling right now. Why don't you just ask them to come home? Your brother and his mates, I mean. Make this a real family home again."
"You called this home," I observe, the significance of that word choice not lost on me.
Sterling pauses, processing his own words, then nods. "It's the first real home I've ever had. And I want you to be happy here. I know you want me, I can feel that through the bond and youkeep telling me too. But I had no idea you were still missing something, still carrying this grief and loneliness around."
I look down the halls at some of the old bedrooms, imagining them filled again with family and noise and life. Through the bond, I can feel all of Sterling's love and warmth and complete acceptance flowing toward me. He's not just tolerating my broken pieces; he's actively trying to help me heal them, like I am doing for him.
I run my thumb along the bottom of Sterling's lip where the bond mark is still slightly swollen and tender. The gesture makes him shiver against me, his scent spiking sweeter with that honey note again.
"I'll definitely ask them," I promise. "We'll make this a proper home again, fill it with people we love and trust. Thank you for seeing what I needed, little dove."
Sterling's smile transforms his whole face. I lean in for more kisses, these sweet and tender rather than demanding. His hands come up to cup my face, holding me close while we lose ourselves in the simple pleasure of connection.
