29. Aria

29

ARIA

Home is where the heart starts to race.

The hum of Malachi's car feels like a heartbeat beneath me. The sleek, midnight blue Jaguar F-PACE is a beast of a vehicle that matches his presence—elegant yet powerful. As the streets of Puritan City blur past the tinted windows, I can't help but feel a mixture of excitement and trepidation. I'm about to see his world, the place that might become my world too.

Malachi sits beside me, his hands steady on the wheel, exuding that calm authority that makes me feel safe yet slightly on edge. He glances over, his eyes softening. "Nervous?" he asks, his voice a soothing balm to my jittery nerves.

"More like…anticipatory," I reply, trying to keep my tone light and assertive. "It's a big step, you know?"

He nods, his gaze returning to the road. "Maybe, just don't let Dash hog all your time."

I hide my smile at that, because Dash can hog as much time as he wants.

We turn off a main road, leaving the hustle and bustle of downtown Puritan City behind for the quieter streets of Winthrop. The cityscape transitions to charming, tree-lined avenues, and I lower the window a crack to let the scent of saltwater and fresh air flood in. The ocean stretches out in the distance, a dark expanse under the night sky. The rhythmic sound of waves reaches us, a soothing presence in the darkness.

"Almost there," Malachi murmurs, a hint of a smile playing on the corners of his lips.

I straighten in my seat, looking forward. As we pull onto Washington Avenue, the scenery shifts again, revealing beachside homes. It's simple, quaint, and beautiful. The three-story home, older by about a century, has touches of Victorian elements, like the wrap-around porch and a path that leads to a private beach.

I so wish it was swimming weather. I can absolutely see myself lying under the sun on the beach here, which makes me miss California.

"Wow," I murmur, unable to mask my awe. "This is…beautiful." Ivy creeps up the side of the house, and beautiful mums line the pathway.

Malachi pulls up to the front, stopping the car smoothly. "Welcome to our home, Aria."

I step out, my boots crunching on the gravel driveway as I take in the home. Out front is an apple tree that looms over a small side yard. The driveway goes all the way to the back, and my eyes try to take in as much as I can, from the little ornate elements to where the salt has eroded the paint. It's humble, homey, and cozy.

It's perfect, and my heart squeezes at how much my auntie would have loved it.

Malachi steps up beside me, resting his hand lightly on my back. "Are you okay?"

Before I can respond, a figure comes bounding down the steps, a whirlwind of energy and enthusiasm—Dash. His grin is infectious, and he pulls me into a bear hug before I can protest.

"Aria! Finally, you're here! What's your favorite board game?" His tone is playful, his attitude easy and welcoming as he sweeps me in a circle. "Quinn ordered pizza, and Zane went for drinks. Do you drink sweet things? Beer? I told him to get everything. Oh, and dessert. He's stopping by a bakery. Do you like cake? Cookies? Donuts?"

Laughter spills from me when he finally sets me down. "I'll try anything once."

I should think about the words that come out of my mouth, because Dash bites his lip and tugs me close.

"Anything? Like a Clarke sandwich?" He winks, releasing me. "Come on, everyone's inside. Quinn has some new tech he's dying to show off, and Zane… Well, I told you Zane is getting alcohol."

I chuckle, feeling some of the tension ease away. Malachi's hand slips from my back, and I feel a pang of loss at the contact, but it's quickly replaced by the warmth of his presence beside me.

As we walk inside, the spacious foyer of the pack house greets us with a mix of traditional and contemporary design. The dark wood floors, plush fabrics, and gentle lighting give off a simple yet sophisticated vibe.

Two rocking chairs and dozens of plants sit in the front room of the house that we quickly walk past. The room opens up into a large, spacious living room. Unlike a lot of modern homes, this one remains separated instead of having an open concept layout.

A large sectional couch is directly to my left, lining the front and left walls. A staircase heads upstairs at the far left toward the back, where there's a closet. To my right is a table, where Malachi tosses his keys, and a dining room before a large archway.

Quinn appears from the back, his eyes lighting up when he spots me. "Aria, welcome! I've been working on something special just for you." His quirky smile is disarming, and I find myself smiling back, despite the whirlwind of emotions.

I want to pull him aside and apologize for my behavior earlier, but there's too much going on. I make a mental note to find him later.

Zane walks in the back, dropping off bags in front of a kitchen island, his intense gaze fixed on me. There's an unreadable quality to him, something alluring that makes me both wary and curious.

"Make yourself at home." Malachi's voice brings my attention back to him.

"Games!" Dash takes off toward the kitchen, only to trip over his feet and sprawl face-first onto the floor.

I rush over to Dash, trying to stifle a laugh as I help him up. "You okay there, speedy?" The pet name is definitely a play on his actual name.

He grins, not even fazed by his tumble. "Just excited! Come on, let's get those games set up."

As Dash leads me toward the back of the home, I can't help but marvel at the warmth and camaraderie between the pack members. I love it more than I could even begin to vocalize right now. They have no idea this is exactly how I grew up. Auntie… She once told me that if a home wasn't messy and loud and full of things from adventures, then it wasn't living.

With each picture I pass, full of smiles and families and love, I fall a little more for these guys, which could absolutely be a problem.

I'm not even entering this relationship with the truth, which I owe them. Soon, I will tell them soon. Besides, who would be mad at finding a scent match?

I relax a little more with the thought as we enter a cozy den at the back of the house, complete with plush couches, a fireplace, and a wall of bookshelves lined with board games. There isn't a single book in sight. Dash immediately starts pulling out boxes, his enthusiasm infectious.

"Okay, we have Monopoly, Scrabble, Pictionary… Oh, how about Twister?" He waggles his eyebrows at me, and I can't help but laugh.

"Maybe later, when we're all a little more…loosened up," I reply, my cheeks heating at the thought of tangled limbs and close proximity.

Dash's grin widens, but he relents, settling on Pictionary. As he sets up the game, I take a moment to absorb my surroundings again. The room overlooks a small grassy yard with a retaining wall and steps that lead to the bay.

I walk over to the window, mesmerized by the view. The sun set hours ago, so the night now paints the sky in hues of blue and black with twinkling stars. The waves lap gently against the shore in a soothing rhythm that calms my racing heart, and the water reflects the skyline. I can't believe I'm here, in this moment, with these people who have so quickly become a part of my life.

It feels like I'm dreaming, as though I'm going to wake up and it's all going to come crashing down. I should pinch myself and make sure I'm a real person.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Malachi's voice is soft, almost reverent, as he comes to stand beside me. His presence is both comforting and electrifying, sending a shiver down my spine.

I nod, not trusting my voice. We stand there for a moment, side by side, taking in the tranquility of the scene before us. It feels like a stolen moment, just like the kiss from earlier. I press my fingertips to my lips when they begin to tingle with the memory of that kiss.

The spell is broken by Dash's exuberant voice. "All right, lovebirds, break it up! It's game time!"

I turn, a blush creeping up my cheeks, to find the others gathered around the coffee table. Quinn is setting up the Pictionary board, while Zane pours drinks. When he passes me a glass, our fingers brush, and I feel a jolt of electricity. His gaze lingers on mine for a moment, intense and searching, before he looks away.

I take a seat on the plush couch, sinking into the cushions as Dash plops down beside me, his energy vibrating through the room. Malachi settles on my other side, his presence a steady anchor amidst the excitement.

"Okay, teams!" Dash declares, rubbing his hands together. "I call dibs on Aria!"

I laugh, bumping my shoulder against his. "You sure you can handle my artistic skills?"

"Oh, I think I can manage." He winks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just look at my haircut."

"I'd say your stylist did a damn good job," I tease.

Quinn and Zane exchange a look, a silent conversation passing between them. "Guess that leaves us as a team," Quinn says, his quirky smile back in place.

"No cheating, Dash," Malachi scolds before the game even begins.

"I would never." He is clearly lying, because he so would.

As we settle into the game, the room fills with laughter and playful banter. Dash's enthusiasm is contagious, and even Zane cracks a smile as we struggle to decipher each other's drawings. It's a side of them I haven't seen before, mostly because I refused to allow myself to, but that's on me. At times, I feel like I'm nothing more than an observer, and yet not once do they make me feel as though I don't belong here.

"All right, who's ready to embarrass themselves next?" Dash asks, bouncing in his seat like an excited puppy. "Come on, don't be shy. We promise not to laugh…much. But you have to pull from this pile." The pile is a stack of index cards, not a part of the game.

No one questions it, so I am guessing Dash does this often.

"I'll go," Quinn volunteers, grabbing a card and glancing at it. "Okay, this should be interesting."

He starts sketching furiously on the pad, his brow furrowed in concentration. The rest of us lean in, trying to make sense of the lines and shapes appearing on the paper.

"A tree!" Dash shouts, his enthusiasm bubbling over.

"Nope," Quinn replies, shaking his head but smiling.

"A house?" Zane guesses, his voice calm but engaged as he sips amber-colored liquid in a glass.

"Close, but not quite," Quinn says, adding more details to the drawing.

"Is it a playground?" I suggest, trying to see where Quinn is going with the picture.

"Getting warmer," Quinn hints, adding a few more strokes.

"A slide!" Dash yells triumphantly, and Quinn's face lights up.

"Yes! Finally! The slide I fell off of as a child." Quinn laughs, handing the pad over to Dash. "Your turn, Dash."

Dash takes the pad with a gleeful look. "Prepare to be amazed by my artistic prowess," he declares dramatically.

"Let's see what you've got," Zane challenges, leaning back with a smirk.

Dash starts drawing, his strokes quick and confident. "Okay, what's this?" he asks, stepping back to reveal a series of circles and lines.

"A tree?" Zane guesses immediately, earning a laugh from Dash.

"Yes, but what's special about this tree?" Dash presses, adding a few more details. "Remember, it's the memory pile."

That's what the pile is! Memories.

Damn you for being so adorable, Dash.

I squint at the drawing. "Is it…the tree you fell out of when you were a kid?"

Dash's eyes widen in surprise. "Yes! How did you know that?"

I rack my brain, trying to remember if Dash ever mentioned this story. Did he? Or am I just making assumptions based on his personality? "Let me guess," I say with a smile, hoping to cover my uncertainty, "Was that the first time you realized you could actually get hurt?"

"Right! That was quite the revelation." Dash laughs, handing the pad over to me. "Your turn, Aria!"

I take the pad, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement. "Okay, here goes nothing," I say, drawing a card from the top.

Favorite childhood toy.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Quinn teases, leaning in closer.

I sketch quickly, trying to keep it simple but recognizable. "What do you think this is?" I ask, revealing my attempt at a drawing. It's pretty bad, if I'm being honest.

"A teddy bear?" Dash guesses, squinting at the paper.

"No, not quite," I say, adding a few more details.

"A stuffed animal?" Zane asks, sounding uncertain.

"Close," I encourage, feeling a little more confident.

"A Care Bear!" Quinn exclaims, and I nod enthusiastically.

"Yes! You got it!" I laugh, passing the pad to Zane. "I used to have a whole collection of them when I was little." My mom bought me my very first one.

Aunt Sara bought the rest.

Zane takes it with a calm smile. "All right, let's see if you can figure this one out," he says, starting to draw with deliberate strokes.

"A mountain?" Dash guesses, earning a chuckle from Zane.

"No, Dash. It's not always a mountain," Zane replies, his tone light.

"A car?" Quinn asks, but Zane shakes his head.

"Think more abstract," Zane suggests, adding more lines and shapes.

"An arrow?" I guess, feeling like I might be onto something.

"Yes! Good job, Aria," Zane says, handing the pad back to Dash. "It was the first time my first foster dad taught me how to shoot a bow," he says nonchalantly, but there is a tightness to his face as he says the words. Clearly, it meant a lot to him.

The clinking of glasses mingles with the rustle of game pieces and the soft pop and crackle of the fireplace. The scent of wood smoke and pizza lingers in the air, wrapping around us like a cozy blanket. The fire casts a soft glow, adding to the comfort of our surroundings. Laughter erupts sporadically, punctuating the air with joyous bursts.

I could so get used to this.

But a nagging voice in the back of my mind whispers, Can you really? How long before your secret tears this all apart?

Dash's vibrant energy infuses the atmosphere with lively feelings that uplift everyone present. Quinn's quick wit and Zane's quiet confidence blend seamlessly, creating a dynamic synergy within our group. The playful competitiveness between teams sparks a sense of friendly rivalry, fueling our determination to win each round.

"All right, this is the final round," Dash announces, grinning widely. "Winner takes all!"

We all lean in, ready for the challenge. As Dash draws, I find myself leaning closer to Zane, our shoulders brushing. He glances at me, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Do you think you can guess this one?" he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

"I think we can manage," I reply, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.

Dash steps back, revealing a drawing that looks like a jumble of shapes. "All right, what's this?"

"A mess?" Quinn jokes, earning a laugh from everyone.

"No, come on, take it seriously!" Dash protests, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I squint at the drawing. "Is it…a rocket?"

Dash grins. "Close enough! It's actually supposed to be the model rocket I built when I was ten. I launched it straight into a tree."

"You've always had a knack for chaos," Zane says, his tone warm.

"Yeah, well, some things never change," Dash replies with a wink. "I am the master of chaos!"

When the pizza arrives, we descend on it like frat boys. I am no better than a man when my hunger strikes, and I nearly consume a whole pizza by myself.

"How about we mix it up?" Quinn suggests, shuffling the cards. "New teams, new round. I call dibs on Aria this time!" As we rearrange ourselves, settling into our new teams, the outside world fades away, leaving only the shared experience of this moment in time.

The camaraderie and connection among us deepen with each shared laugh and inside joke, weaving a tapestry of memories that will linger long after this night ends.

My hand instinctively touches my neck, where my scent glands are. The suppressants are working, but for how long? The guilt of my secret gnaws at me, threatening to spoil this perfect moment. I push the thought away, determined to enjoy this while I can.

"Is that supposed to be a dog or a deformed llama?" Quinn teases as Zane attempts to draw what looks like a blob with four legs.

"Shut up and guess," Zane grumbles, but there's a hint of amusement in his voice.

I watch them as warmth spreads through my chest. This feels right, like I'm exactly where I'm meant to be. The worries and uncertainties of the past few days fade away, replaced by a sense of belonging.

A yawn cracks my jaw, and my eyes burn.

"Hey, sleepy girl." Dash leans in, rubbing his cheek against mine. The whole room freezes.

I'm not dumb, I know exactly what Dash just did—he scent marked me without hesitation and without knowing I'm an omega, and damn me to hell, but I want to bathe in his citrusy salty scent.

It's fine, I'm just totally not going to address it.

"What time is it?" I yawn again.

"Nearly midnight," Zane murmurs.

Malachi stands up, stretching his arms above his head. "We should probably call it a night. It's been a long day for everyone, especially Aria."

I nod, feeling exhaustion settle into my bones. The emotional roller coaster of the past few days, combined with the excitement of tonight, has left me drained.

"I'll show you to your room," Malachi offers, extending his hand to help me up from the couch.

As I take his hand, I feel a spark of electricity pass between us. His touch is warm and comforting, and I don't want to let go, but I do, reluctantly, as I rise to my feet.

"Thanks for the great night, guys," I say, smiling at each of them in turn. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

Dash grins, his eyes twinkling. "Just wait until tomorrow. We have a whole day of adventures planned."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "After work," I tell him, solidifying that I still have to work and function as I have. Independence.

Quinn and Zane bid me goodnight from across the room, and I follow Malachi out of the den and up the back stairs. The wooden steps creak beneath our feet.

As we ascend to the second floor, the hallway is illuminated by soft, warm lighting. The walls are adorned with framed photographs, capturing moments of the pack's history and the bonds they share. Each image tells a story, and I find myself wanting to learn more about the life they built together.

There's a warmth to the pictures, despite the rough and tough exterior these guys try to maintain. My eyes catch on a gap between two frames, a slightly lighter rectangle on the wall. Was there another photo here once? I reach out to touch the space, but Malachi's voice makes me jump. "Right here," he says gruffly, his eyes flickering to the empty spot before he turns away.

Malachi leads me down the hall, his presence a comforting escort. We stop in front of a door, and he turns to face me, his hand resting on the doorknob. "This will be your room," he says, his voice low and gentle. "I hope you'll find it comfortable."

He opens the door, revealing a spacious bedroom bathed in soft, inviting hues. A large, plush bed dominates the center of the room, its fluffy comforter and pillows beckoning me to sink into their embrace. A cozy armchair sits in the corner, perfect for curling up with a good book. The room feels like a sanctuary, a place where I can let my guard down and simply exist without fear. It even looks like it might chase away my nightmares.

I step inside, taking in the details—the vase of fresh flowers on the nightstand, the soft rug beneath my feet, the delicate lace curtains framing the windows. Malachi has thought of everything to make me feel at home.

"It's perfect," I murmur, turning to face him with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Malachi, for everything."

His eyes soften, and he takes a step closer, his hand coming up to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The gesture is intimate, sending a shiver down my spine. "You're welcome, Aria. I want you to feel safe and comfortable with us."

His fingers linger on my cheek for a moment, his touch featherlight yet electrifying. I lean into his caress, my eyes fluttering closed. When I open them again, his face is mere inches from mine, his gaze intense and filled with an emotion I can't quite decipher.

"Malachi," I whisper, my heart pounding in my chest.

He leans in, his lips brushing against my forehead in a tender kiss. "Get some rest, Aria. We'll talk more in the morning."

With that, he steps back, offering me one last smile before turning to leave. I watch him go.

My heart flutters as I approach the bed, fingers trailing over the soft comforter. Before I can stop myself, I'm diving onto the mattress, burying my face in the pillows. A sound escapes me, half giggle, half purr, my omega instincts reveling in the comfort and safety. I know it's risky, but I open the door to the walk-in closet and nearly vomit.

It isn't because it's not perfect. It's huge and full of spare blankets in varying softness and muted colors.

Oh no.

I turn back to the room, the pizza in my stomach turning to acid.

They didn't.

Oh hell, they did.

They gave me a nest meant for their omega.

They think I'm a beta.

Oh, shit.