48. Amaya

48

AMAYA

W hite walls, black wooden bedframe, a king-size mattress with only a fitted sheet on it. You'd never know by the state of my master bedroom, but the closet is full, the ensuite bathroom a little messy, and the cabinets are stocked with my things.

I come in here every day to get dressed and get ready. Sometimes I even sit on the sad mattress with my favorite sheet wrapped around me and try to imagine what this room should look like. If I were norma l. But I'm not, which is made obvious by the fact that I sleep on the living room couch every night instead of my pack bedroom.

Today, I'm not imagining the bedroom filled with knickknacks and comfortable bedding. No, I'm doing the one thing I've refused to do since I realized what was beyond the little door in the far corner: my nest. Or what should be my nest.

Again, if I were fucking normal, I wouldn't have a tiny nest made out of couch cushions and a thin ass sheet.

Frustration bubbles under my skin, making me need to move. Huffing, I shimmy off the bed and stomp to the closed door. With gritted teeth, I throw the door wide, not prepared for the state I find it in.

It's clean. I'm not sure what I expected, maybe a plume of dust to steal my breath, but the three feet of wood floors wrapped around the sunken mattress basically sparkle with the light of the bedroom behind me.

The lack of, well, anything, has my throat closing up with emotion. This beautiful, dark, enclosed space should be mine. But it looks stuck in time. As if waiting for the perfect omega to give it the love it deserves.

I feel him before I realize he's even in the room. Vincent's arms snake around my waist and tugs me back into his wide chest. With his comfort, the weight in my throat bursts and the tears finally fall on a cracked sob.

"Why are you crying, Omega?"

My alpha's voice is a low rumble that I swear targets my clit. I squirm a little, trying to keep a leash on my hormones. I slept through the rest of yesterday and all of last night after my first heat flare.

I woke up blushing and warm in Vincent's lap, but his gentle peppered kisses over my face and encouraging words kicked my embarrassment to the curb. Unfortunately, without my anxiety over how I basically threw myself at him, I swirled down a rabbit hole of inadequacy.

"I need a proper nest for you," I whisper with a little hiccup.

Vincent's arms tighten, the lack of space serving as a warning but also makes my bare toes curl. "For who ?"

"For us," I reply weakly, with a hint of a question lining my tone. I cringe, not because I'm afraid of him, but because I know my feelings are a little skewed on the matter.

"Amaya," he growls. Shivers tingle down my spine when he nips my ear in delicious punishment.

No longer is he referring to my omega, which makes sense because all she wants to do is make the prettiest nest for herself . It's me, the person with ridiculous anxiety and social issues, that thinks the only way my alpha will want to mate me, is if I show him I can be a normal, good omega.

"I know." I sigh, deflating in his arms. "I can't turn it off, though."

Vincent hums and begins to sway us in place while I gaze longingly at the bare nest. "Little mate, I would love nothing more than for you to share your nest with me. Any nest. But what is your omega telling you?"

I'm not proud of it, but I stomp my foot. "She wants blankets, and candles, and twinkly lights. Honestly, think of the most basic nest, then picture me salivating over it and crying happy tears. That's what’s going on with my instincts ."

Okay, so I might be a bit frustrated with this push and pull between my omega and me. I wish we weren't so separate, that my thoughts would be hers and her urges could be mine.

But I'm messed up and complicated.

A snarl snaps me out of yet another downward spiral. "Amaya! You are not messed up, do you hear me? Both you and your omega's feelings are normal."

"So I should want to make a blanket fort, throw you in it and make you sweat so it coats my nest in your scent? But also be a little jittery and nervous about doing everything wrong?"

"I promise there is absolutely no way you would be doing something wrong if you're making me sweat in a pile of blankets you arrange for us, little mate,” Vincent purrs in my ear.

His innuendo shoves my worries aside a smidgen, and when his hot fingers tease the waistband of my leggings, my omega soars to the surface with sheer delight.

"Blankets," I gasp, arching into his touch. "Nest, I need blankets to make us a nest."

I can't help the growl that slips out when he stops moving. Vincent chuckles. "Easy. There's some in the linen closet. While you get those set up, I'll run out and get some more."

"NO!" I jump and whimper at my outburst. "I mean, no, please don't leave."

My alpha spins me in his arms and tilts my chin up so I don't hide my gaze staring at the beautiful tattoos on his neck. His backwards hat and chiseled face is all the distraction I need from my embarrassing neediness.

"Amaya, focus," he chides around a huff of laughter. "I can call Kate and have her?—"

"No, don't!" I panic again. The thought of someone coming to the house right now has me ready to burst out in fucking hives.

Vincent studies me before giving me a nod and a soft kiss. "Okay, I'll go grab you everything I can find. We'll figure this out."

I nod, trying to hold back the burn in my eyes as I try to find acceptance in the fact that my new nest isn't going to be everything of my dreams.

Just as Vincent steps away from me, which already puts me on edge, the doorbell rings. I stiffen, my fight-or-flight instincts rooting me to the spot while my body tries to figure out what to do. I swear I can feel my skin aching with the need to itch.

"Stay here," Vincent says in as calming of a voice as an alpha can when their omega is in a heat cycle.

As he disappears down the hall, I jump into action, the urge to hide disappearing as my anxiety rises.

I can't let my alpha face the intruder alone. Nor will I allow another person near him.

My alpha.