Page 73 of Holly Jolly Heat
Pack scent. Not three alphas and an omega. Just pack.
Dex was awake, of course he was, sitting in the armchair with a cup of coffee, watching over us with the vigilance that was coded into his DNA.
"Morning," I said quietly, not wanting to wake the others.
"Morning. Coffee's in the kitchen." He smiled slightly. "She told you she loved you."
"She told all of us she loved us."
"And then built a nest with us. Slept surrounded by pack." His expression turned soft. "That's huge for her."
It was. Michelle, who'd been fighting pack bonds for six days, who'd built walls so high she'd forgotten what vulnerability feltlike, had admitted she loved us and then literally made a nest with us.
Progress didn't even begin to cover it.
Lucas stirred, his eyes opening slowly. He took in the situation, Michelle still asleep against him, me watching from her other side, Dex keeping guard, and his entire face transformed into pure happiness.
"She stayed," he whispered. "I was half-afraid I'd dreamed last night."
"You didn't dream it," I confirmed. "She confessed. We confessed. We built a nest. We slept as pack."
"Best night of my life," Lucas said, and I couldn't argue.
Michelle made a soft sound, burrowing deeper into the blankets. Her hand found mine in sleep, fingers lacing together, and my chest did something complicated.
This. This was what I'd been looking for in every relationship that had never quite fit. This sense of rightness, of completion, of home.
"We should let her sleep," Dex said quietly. "She was up until four AM having emotional breakthroughs. She needs rest."
"Agreed. But I'm not moving until she does."
"Me neither," Lucas added.
So we lay there, watching Michelle sleep, being the kind of sappy, devoted pack that would probably make Dex roll his eyes if he wasn't exactly the same.
Michelle woke slowly, her eyes fluttering open, momentarily disoriented. Then awareness hit, where she was, who she was with, what had happened last night.
I watched her process it, waiting to see if she'd panic, if she'd retreat, if the morning light would bring back her walls.
Instead, she smiled.
Small, but genuine.
"Morning," she said, her voice rough with sleep.
"Morning," Lucas and I said in unison.
"Did we really—" She looked at the nest, at us surrounding her. "Did I really tell you I loved you at three in the morning?"
"You did," I confirmed. "And then we built a nest and slept as pack. And it was perfect."
"I can't believe I did that."
"Regrets?" I asked carefully.
"No. Maybe. I don't know." She sat up, and we gave her space. "I meant it. What I said. But in the light of day it feels?—"
"Real?" Lucas supplied. "Permanent? Scary?"
