Page 103

A sharp cramp twisted through my lower belly at his words, making me wince. They were getting more frequent and more intense with each passing day. A reminder of what was coming.

"What can we do to help?" Callum asked, already standing as if ready to fetch whatever I needed.

I considered for a moment, looking around at my half-completed nest. "More pillows? And blankets. The softest ones you can find."

The two men exchanged looks before Rowen disappeared into the adjoining dressing room. Callum vanished in a swirl of shadows, presumably to search elsewhere in the palace.

While they were gone, I continued my work, arranging and rearranging until each piece felt right. I couldn't explain the instinct—I just knew when something was in its proper place. The nest needed to be secure, comfortable, and—most importantly—it needed to smell likeus.

Rowen returned first, arms laden with pillows from the chaise lounge in our dressing room. "Will these do?" he asked, offering them to me like precious gifts.

I reached for them eagerly, burying my face in the cool silk of one pillow and inhaling deeply. Rowen's scent—smoke and spice and something darkly elemental—clung to the fabric. "Perfect," I murmured, immediately incorporating it into my creation.

The mattress dipped again as Callum reappeared, holding an assortment of blankets. "I raided the linen closets," he explained, depositing his haul beside me.

I sorted through them quickly, selecting those with the right texture and weight. Some were too stiff or too thin—those I discarded without a second thought. But others, the ones with the perfect combination of softness and warmth, I added to my growing nest.

"Is there anything else you need?" Rowen asked, watching me with fascination as I worked.

I paused, considering. "Your clothes," I said suddenly, the need hitting me full-force. "I need something that smells strongly of each of you."

Without question, Rowen pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen. He handed me the black cotton tee, still warm from his body. Callum followed suit, shrugging out of his gray henley and passing it to me.

"Archer's not here," Callum noted, "but there should be something of his in the hamper."

While Rowen went to fetch it, I pressed both shirts to my face, inhaling deeply. The scents of my mates filled my nose—Callum's pine and shadow, Rowen's smoke and spice. A small moan escaped me at the comfort those familiar scents brought.

Rowen returned with one of Archer's training shirts, still carrying the steel-and-pine scent that was uniquely his. I added it to my collection, carefully incorporating all three shirts into the nest's structure—not just as covering, but woven into the very foundation.

For the next hour, they watched in silent fascination as I built, tore down, and rebuilt sections of my nest. Nothing was quite right, and then suddenly, everything was perfect. I couldn't explain the logic—I just knew when each piece had found its proper place.

The final structure was a circular fortress of softness, with walls high enough to create a sense of security but low enough that I could still see out. The floor was padded with the softest blankets, their various textures creating a sensory haven. The shirts of my mates were strategically placed where I could easily reach them, their scents mingling in the air around me.

I sat back on my heels, surveying my creation with satisfaction. My body hummed with approval, the primal part of me finally satisfied. "There," I said softly. "It's done."

Rowen and Callum had been watching from the foot of the bed, their expressions a mixture of amusement and wonder.

"Quite impressive," Callum said, genuine admiration in his voice. "You've been at this for hours."

Had it been that long? I hadn't noticed the passage of time at all. The windows showed the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the floor. I'd started shortly after breakfast.

"Do you feel better now?" Rowen asked, his dark eyes tracking my movements as I adjusted one final pillow.

"I do," I admitted, feeling the compulsive energy draining from me, leaving behind a bone-deep satisfaction. "It's like scratching an itch I didn't know I had."

I crawled to the center of my nest and settled in, immediately feeling the rightness of it. This was where I belonged. This was where I would weather the storm of my approaching heat.

As if summoned by that thought, another cramp twisted through me, sharper than before. I gasped, curling inward slightly as heat bloomed low in my belly. When it passed, I became aware of a new sensation—wetness between my thighs.

My eyes flew to Rowen and Callum, who had both gone utterly still. I knew they could smell it—the change in my scent, the first hint of slick coating my skin. Rowen's nostrils flared, his pupils expanding until only a thin ring of black remained. Beside him, Callum's pale eyes had darkened to the color of moss in deep shadow.

"Sierra," Rowen said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how dry my mouth had become. The wetness between my thighs increased in response to their heated gazes. "I—I'm okay," I managed, though my voice sounded strained even to my own ears. "It's just—I need to finish this."

They respected my space, not approaching the nest without invitation, though I could see the effort it cost them. Their restraint only made me want them more, but the nest wasn't quite right yet. Something was missing.

I looked up, trying to figure out what else I needed, and that's when I noticed them—delicate strands of tiny lights woven through the posts of the bed frame, casting a soft, golden glow over my creation. How had I missed them before?