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When his teeth lightly graze my scent gland, I cry out into his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes. “You’reso ready.”

His hands fist my underwear at my hips, twisting the material until it rips and then I’m bare before him. He hisses a gentle curse, gaze so full of worship I can’t believe I ever doubted his interest in me.

Two fingers slip inside me as his thumb circles my clit, and I break. My body bucks, hips jerking wildly as he curls his fingers just right. He kisses me again, swallowing the noise I make as the pressure coils tight and hard and impossibly fast.

“Come for me, omega,” he whispers, thumb stroking faster. “Let go, wildflower. Let me feel it.”

And I do.

The orgasm slams into me hard and bright, a wave of heat and pleasure that crashes through my core and knocks the breath from my lungs, stealing every thought from my head. I cling to him, nails in his back, crying out his name as my body convulses around his hand.

My scent explodes again, stronger than before, thick with omega release and the promise of heat.

He holds me through it, murmuring soft things into my skin, grounding me as I shake and melt against him.

When it finally ebbs, I collapse against him, limp and shaking, chest heaving. I bury my face in his neck, overwhelmed. My body hums. My omega purrs in satisfaction. And all I can smell isus.

He kisses my hair, my forehead, murmurs something low that I can’t quite make out through the haze of pleasure and disbelief.

I came. Forhim.

And all I feel is safe.

Seen.Wanted.

His arms wrap tighter around me. “You’re everything I ever needed,” he whispers into my hair. “And I’ll remind you every single day, Evie. You never have to doubt it again.”

I don’t want to move. Not yet. Not when he’s still wrapped around me like a shield, a promise, a home.

He kisses the top of my head.

“I’ve got you,” he vows again. “Always.”

The scent of coffee and warm bread draws us from the nest like a thread pulled taut. We should probably shower first, but Dane assures me it’s not necessary, as he kisses and leaves me to get dressed. I guess he’s right. I’m with my alphas, my scent matches, and I finally feel safe enough to just exist – messy hair, bare skin, tangled scent and all. There’s something deeply comforting in that, not having to mask or apologise for the way I belong to them now.

By the time I pad into the kitchen, Dane’s already pouring mugs, Xar is buttering toast, and Blaise is halfway through his second cinnamon swirl like it owes him money, if the crumbslittering his plate, the table top, and his shirt are anything to go by.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Blaise grins. “Guess what day it is?”

I blink, reaching for a mug. “No idea.”

“Christmas Eve,” Xar says, glancing over with a half-smile.

The mug slips in my hands. “Wait—What?”

They all pause, turning to stare at me.

“You didn’t realise?” Dane asks gently.

“I— no—I thought we had another week,” I stammer, heart jumping as I place the mug down carefully before I make a mess or break it. “Or a few more days at least. I haven’t got you anything. I didn’t even think—Shit.”

I’m already backing away, panic bubbling up. My chest tightens. Heat haze or not, I should have known. Should have prepared. I can barely breathe through the sudden guilt knotting in my ribs.

“Evie.” Xar’s voice is calm but firm. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” I snap, too sharp. “You’re practically living with me now. You’ve doneeverythingfor me and I didn’t even?—”