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And even though everything inside me wants to run, wants to escape the crushing weight of the truth – that I don’t deserve them – I can’t. I can’t fight what’s pulling at me, what’s calling to me from deep inside.

I just don’t know what comes next.

I follow them into the kitchen, still reeling, still half convinced this is all a dream I’m going to wake from with a gasp.

The power is still out, but the soft glow of morning seeps through the windows, and Blaise is already rummaging through the cupboards like he owns the place – which, apparently, he kind of does now. I should bristle at the invasion, but I don’t. Not with the warmth of their scents clinging to the air like the promise of something safe.

Gas flames flicker to life with a soft whoosh as Dane lights the hob. “We found eggs and some bread,” he says, flashing me a small smile. “French toast sound good?”

My stomach growls in response, embarrassing and eager, and I nod.

I drift to the table, my eyes never quite leaving them. I should be thinking about what this means, what I’m supposed to do now, but instead, I’m just watching. The way Xar moves behind Blaise, effortlessly grabbing a pan. The soft murmur of voices as they work together, like this isn’t the strangest morning of my life.

I keep scenting them – can’t stop. It’s like my body is pulling oxygen from their pheromones instead of the air. Leather and apple from Blaise, wood and musk from Dane, and Xar – god, Xar smells like toasted tonka bean and comfort. Together, they make something dark I don’t have a name for, something I could drown in.

Blaise passes me a glass of juice, fresh and cold, and his fingers brush mine. My breath catches. My skin burns where we touched.

I look down, overwhelmed again. “Why do I keep reacting like this?” I whisper, not even sure who I’m asking. “I can’t seem to stop.”

Xar is suddenly there, crouched beside me, his hand gentle on my thigh. “Because your omega’s been starved,” he sayssoftly. “Not just for touch, but for safety. For us. You’ve been holding yourself together for so long, Evie. Let her feel now. Let her breathe.”

The lump in my throat swells. I want to argue, to tell him I’m fine, I’ve always been fine – but then he reaches up, thumb brushing a smudge from the corner of my mouth, and I melt.

His hand lingers.

Our faces are close – too close – and everything inside me goes hot and tight and needful. My fingers curl into my palms to stop myself from reaching for him. His eyes flick to my lips, and my omega rises up with a keening ache.

He leans in just a little more, not quite touching. Waiting.

I blink, torn open by the weight of the moment, of how easy it would be to close the distance.

His hand lingers.

He leans in just a little more, not quite touching. Waiting.

But Blaise clatters a pan onto the hob, and I jump like I’ve been shocked, the moment breaking as heat rushes to my face.

“I’ve got this round,” Blaise says, turning with an exaggerated flourish. “Chef Blaise at your service. Dane’s banned from French toast after the incident.”

Dane snorts from the sink. “One time. One time the egg mixture got weird and suddenly I’m blacklisted for life.”

Xar stands and presses a hand briefly to my shoulder – steadying, warm – before moving to grab plates. I stay seated, trying to pretend I’m not still vibrating with want. With need.

“Do I even want to know what the incident was?” I ask, hoping my voice sounds more stable than I feel.

“Oh, you do,” Blaise says with a grin. “Let’s just say it involved cinnamon, an open window, and a very angry squirrel.”

Dane groans, tossing him a dishtowel. “You swore you’d never bring that up again.”

“Blaise lies,” Xar says flatly, but there’s amusement in his tone. “Frequently. And with flair. He’s also pretty much banned from doing anything in the kitchen too.” He takes over the cooking.

I laugh – actually laugh – and the sound startles me. It feels good, though. Like maybe the world isn’t completely upside down if I can still find room for this. For them. For this strange, domestic kind of peace.

They set down plates piled with food, and I don’t even realise how hungry I am until I’m halfway through a bite, only to pause as another wave of scent hits me. Toast and syrup and them. I close my eyes for a second too long, inhaling deeply.

“You okay?” Dane asks gently.

I nod, swallowing thickly. “Yeah. Just...you all smell so good.Too good.It’s distracting.”