Page 94 of Rescued By My Reluctant Alphas

“You’re ours,” Silas added, his sensitivity probably picking up on everyone’s emotional state. “And we’re yours. And this nest proves it. Our scents, our items, our pack mixed together in a space you created.”

“You’re home,” Beau finished, pulling me closer. “This is home. Not the house. Not the town. But this. Right here. The four of us together in a space you built for us.”

I started crying, which was ridiculous because I was happy. Because this was everything I’d never let myself want during the five years I’d spent proving I didn’t need anyone. Because my three broken alphas had somehow given me exactly what I needed without me having to ask.

“I love you,” I sobbed against Beau’s chest. “I love all three of you so much. I never thought I’d have this. Never thought I’d find alphas who’d help me build a nest instead of just tolerating my biology.”

“We love you too,” they said, and through the bonds I felt the absolute truth of it.

We stayed in the nest for hours. Not doing anything, just being together. Talking about stupid things and serious things. About work schedules and whether we needed to buy a grill for the backyard. About future heats and how we’d handle them now that I had a proper nest room. About nothing and everything.

Eventually, Silas’s stomach growled loud enough to make everyone laugh.

“I should make dinner,” he said, not moving from where he was comfortable. “We should probably eat something besides emotional catharsis.”

“In a minute,” I said, not ready to leave the nest yet. “Just a few more minutes.”

“We have all the time in the world,” Beau said. “The nest isn’t going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” I asked, even though I could feel the truth of it through our bonds.

“Promise,” they said together. “We’re pack. We’re permanent. We’re yours for as long as you’ll have us.”

“Forever, then,” I said firmly. “I’ll have you forever.”

“Forever works,” Dane agreed.

We eventually made our way downstairs to the kitchen, where Silas created something that involved pasta and vegetables and the kind of seasoning that made Dane mutter about efficiency but eat three servings anyway. We ate at our table, in our dining room, in our house that was finally starting to feel complete.

After dinner, we collapsed on the couch together, too tired to do anything productive but too content to want to. I was wedged between Beau and Silas, with Dane on the other end, and through the bonds I could feel everyone’s satisfaction.

“We did good,” I said quietly. “With the nest room. With figuring out how to make this house ours instead of just Dane’s.”

“We did great,” Silas corrected. “We took four disasters who had no business forming a pack and built something functional.”

“More than functional,” Beau added. “Something real.”

“Something permanent,” Dane finished.

I thought about Nathan, showing up and trying to convince me I’d made a mistake. Trying to tell me that three alphas would betoo much, that I’d never be able to maintain independence in a pack, that I’d break them apart with my difficulty.

He’d been wrong about everything.

I hadn’t lost myself in this pack. I’d found myself. Found the parts of me I’d been hiding because Nathan had said they were too much. Found the strength I’d been suppressing because I thought it made me bad at being omega. Found the competence and independence and stubborn determination that my alphas didn’t just tolerate but actively celebrated.

Through the bonds, I felt their love. Felt their certainty that this was right, that we were right, that everything we’d built together was worth every risk we’d taken.

I fell asleep on that couch, surrounded by my pack, in our house, with my perfect nest room waiting upstairs. Fell asleep knowing that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Not too much. Not not enough.

Just exactly right.

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