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I press a kiss to his chest and smile when he sighs, content.

“I could stay here forever,” I murmur.

“You might have to,” he says with a grin. “Because I’m never letting you go.”

And as sleep starts to pull me under, I thinkI wouldn’t want to go anywhere else.

EVIANA

The scent of warm blankets and my alphas surrounds me as I stir beneath the nest’s covers, caught between sleep and waking. Not from a dream – but from something real. Safe. Solid. Soft.

It’s Christmas.

I blink slowly, the glow of fairy lights blinking around the nest making it feel more like magic than morning. Blaise is sprawled across one end of the nest like he owns it. He’s snoring so loud it’s a wonder any of us got any sleep at all, but it still makes me smile. Even if I want to chuck a pillow at his head.

Dane’s breathing is slow and even beside me, his arm heavy around my waist. Fuck, I love this. Waking up like this, held,surrounded by them, sharing my space with them, feeling loved by them…it’s everything.

Xar’s warmth hovers close, and the soft sound of him turning pages tells me he’s already awake.

I shift gently and slide out from beneath the blankets. No one stops me. No one clings or panics or demands my presence. That alone feels beautifully surreal.

The hallway is quiet, the house blanketed in hush. I pad toward the lounge on bare feet and stop.

I can’t breathe.

The room has been transformed.

A tall, real pine tree towers in the corner, strung with fairy lights, tiny candles in glass jars, paper snowflakes, and ornaments that are clearly handmade. Real garland is wound around the fireplace, which is lit, and the windows which have proper thick curtains hanging now. There are blankets folded over chairs, cushions scattered on the sofa – fuck it’s anewsofa – flickering tea lights, and a scattering of wrapped gifts in all sorts of paper. One is wrapped in newspaper, another in tissue paper and string. It’s rustic and quaint and so charming.

But more than that it’s…breathtaking. The time and care that’s gone into transforming this room from a cold parlour to a cosy living room is so moving.

I step closer, fingers brushing the tree. It smells like everything I never let myself want.

My throat tightens.

“You like it?” comes Xar’s voice from the kitchen door.

I turn, and he’s there – mug in hand, shirtless, with bed-wild hair and sleepy, amused eyes.

“Xar…” I manage, voice catching as a lump of emotion swells in my throat.

He smiles softly. “The other two were up half the night hanging things. I tried to talk them out of using wire to get the garland to stay, but…”

My chest aches in the best way. “It’s so beautiful. The tree alone would have been more than enough, you know.”

He shrugs and steps forward, offering me his mug. “Sip. I added gingerbread syrup. I thought you’d like it.”

I take it, hand brushing his, and inhale deeply.

He was right. Of course he was. It tastes like a Hallmark Christmas film and I’ve never had anything like it before.

“Try the sofa, see what you think. We wanted something as cosy as the nest, and big enough for all of us to be together.”

I pass him the mug and sink down into the off white velvet sofa. I don’t even care if the colour is completely impractical, it’s like being cocooned in a giant bear hug – something you sink down into and melt, not like the old one which was made to be perched on.

I groan, closing my eyes in bliss. Between this and my nest, I may never leave the house again.

“Let me show you the surprise,” Xar offers.