Chapter 56

Chapter Fifty-Six

FREYA

T his can't be happening.

I can't blink away the pink haze clouding my vision, no matter how many times I blink or try to convince myself this isn't happening.

It's only been three weeks since we all moved in together. I'm not ready. I mean, for fuck's sake, I'm not ready to pick out my own clothes. How am I supposed to be ready to move our relationship further?

It's dumb, I'm dumb. We have a bond, we're scent-matched mates, and I've had sex with two of my four mates. The other two helped me through my heat and gave me what I needed. None of that felt real, though. It was all under duress. Like severe duress.

I've begun fading in and out, completely missing the drive home and being carried into the house by Elliott. Clarity returned with a vengeance when I was placed in the nest off the pack bedroom.

Light purple drapes hang from the ceiling, creating the most beautiful cocoon around the sunken nest bed. The mattress is covered in my new silk sheet, with a couple of dark purple pillows decorating it. They look soft, but it's not enough.

The walls are a soft pink, creating a cozy ambience with the intimate lighting. It's absolutely gorgeous. But it's wrong. It's bare of everything I need it to have. It's a shell right now.

This, this is what my pack has been working on when they disappear into the house, and I'm being such an ungrateful brat. I bet if I was lucid during the walk through the pack bedroom, I would see it renovated for me as well.

They are so wonderful and so fucking thoughtful. I hate how wrong everything feels. I'm so out of sorts that I can't explain my visceral reaction to Elliott trying to follow me into my space.

"Okay, Ray," Elliott surrenders, stepping back. "Tell me what you need."

Tears well up in my eyes, because I have no clue what I need or what I can have. All I know is nothing is right, and my uterus fucking hurts .

"Baby girl, here," Casey says, thankfully keeping his voice low. "I found where Ronan put all the nesting blankets."

"At least you know where that is," I tease, shocking myself.

It seems the only time I feel like myself is when I'm fucking with my beta. I hope he knows I'm just kidding.

A tear falls, worry making my lip tremble as I watch him slide the pile of coziness across the threshold.

"I'm going to spank her ass," Casey grumbles to Elliott, but our alpha is watching me intently.

"He knows you're teasing, Omega," Elliott explains, reading the emotion on my face. "Build your nest however you want, and if there is anything you need, anything at all, you tell me. We'll be right here. Lucas and Ronan are just getting some water and food put together for the next few days."

I want to linger on the fact that he said a few days, but I'm already diving into my pile of blankets and sheets. Tuning out the conversation happening on the other side of the door, I situate my sunken mattress how I want.

I don't know how long I'm lost to the nesting instinct, but I have nothing else to do and yet... it's not right!

The lighting is warm and dark. The ceilings are low, my entire pack can fit, and the lip of the floor surrounding the mattress is padded by all the soft things I could find. So what's wrong?!

"What's wrong, what's wrong, what's wrong ?!" I screech, stomping my foot, and wiping away the sweat beading on my forehead.

"Star?"

Whirling around, my focus pinpoints on my alpha's bare chest. Like the predator I'm feeling like, I zone in on my prey, the thing I need : the shirt hanging from his fingertips.

My nostrils flare, angry right up until the moment I'm across the small distance, snatching the fabric, and shoving it to my nose.

"Strip," Ronan growls in his throat.

Slick destroys my panties, but nothing matters when a pile of my pack's well-worn clothes is pushed across the threshold. I descend like my new kitty on fucking catnip.

A ferocious cramp makes me land on my hands and knees just as I tuck the final pair of boxers into my nest.

"Freya?!" Casey's panicked voice makes my head ring, but I'm too focused on my bare wrists.

Wrists that feel really empty and itchy.

Unshackled.

It's fucked up, but I need it.

"My scrunchies," I gasp out.

"You need your scrunchies, Omega?"

I don't know who says it, but I'm crying out my agreement as another cramp shatters my ability to nest any further.

"Scrunchies!"

"Can we come in?"

"Please," I whimper.

Then my wrists are being held by the prettiest, softest bands.

My omega purrs in my head, feeling my body settle into the familiar pressure, allowing her to take over and bring us pleasure.

So, so much pleasure.