Page 29 of A Cobbled Conspiracy
“I’m sure,” I said against his lips. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
His hands found my face, thumbs tracing along my cheekbones with a reverence that made my knees weak. “I…” he began, but didn’t finish.
His lips parted again, words forming and dying in the same breath, eyes revealing what his voice couldn't express. He kissed me again, deeper this time, his hands moving to my waist and pulling me closer. The bond hummed with contentment andgrowing arousal, five weeks of enforced separation making every touch electric.
“There’s something I need to show you,” I said, gently pushing him away. I shivered at the growl of protest that rumbled from deep in his chest. I laced my fingers through his, tugging him gently toward the guest room. “Blake managed to get a sweater from your apartment, and I… I made something.”
Dominic followed me down the hallway, his confusion evident. “Made something?”
I paused at the guest room door, suddenly nervous. “I built a nest,” I said quietly. “I’ve never done it before—never had the instinct—but during the separation, I just… needed it.”
I opened the door to reveal my creation. Over the past week, I’d carefully arranged every soft surface in Blake’s guest room into a perfect circle on the bed. The expensive sheets Blake had acquired from the omega boutique shop formed the base, topped with plush throw blankets from the living room. Dominic’s sweater—the one Blake had retrieved from his apartment—was placed prominently at the heart of the intricate arrangement, creating a nest that smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon.
The sweater had lost most of Dominic's essence over the past few weeks, his scent barely clinging to the fabric. My body ached for my alpha to sink into the soft contours of the nest, to infuse every thread with his presence.
Dominic stopped in the doorway, his scent shifting to something deeper, more complex. “Leo,” he breathed.
“I know it’s probably not very good,” I said quickly, suddenly self-conscious. “I’ve never built one before, and I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right, but?—”
“It’s perfect.” His voice was rough with emotion. “God, Leo, it’s perfect.”
But he didn’t move to enter the room, and I could smell the hesitation mixing with his arousal. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve never…” He ran a hand through his hair, looking uncertain in a way I’d never seen before. “I’ve never been in an omega’s nest. I don’t want to mess it up or make you uncomfortable. I know omegas are sensitive about their nests, and if I do something wrong?—”
“Dominic.” I reached for his hand, tugging him gently into the room. “I made this for us. For you. I want you in my nest.”
His pupils dilated at my words, alpha instincts responding to the invitation. “Are you certain?”
Instead of answering with words, I led him to the edge of the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt. My fingers worked the button free on his slacks, then slid down his zipper. I gripped the waistband, intending to tug the fabric down over the hard planes of his hips, but his hands suddenly covered mine, stilling them.
“If we do this, I need you to know—I’m not exactly feeling like my usual self right now. Because of the separation… I’m more… territorial. More possessive. The alpha instincts are stronger right now, and will be until I’ve claimed you properly again. I don’t want to frighten you.”
His hands slid to my wrists, tightening on them, betraying the control he was trying to maintain.
I looked up at him, seeing the worry in his silver gaze, but also the predatory edge that hadn’t been there before. Heseemed sharpened somehow, his alpha nature more raw, more demanding.
“You could never frighten me,” I said softly. “I trust you.”
I resumed tugging down his slacks, but his hands tightened on my wrists, stilling them with firm pressure.
“Leo,” his voice had dropped to that commanding alpha tone, “I need to touch you. I need to make sure you’re real, that you’re mine.” His grip held me still, and I could see the battle in his expression—the need to maintain control warring with the desperate biological imperative to claim, to dominate, to reassert his place as my alpha.
“No,” I said firmly, pulling my hands free and placing them flat against his chest. “I’m going to take care of you.”
“I’m going to make you feel good.” I pressed my lips to his skin, my tongue lightly brushing against his nipple. “I’ll be the one claiming you this time, my alpha.”
His control finally snapped. He snarled, his hands tangling in my hair and tilting my head back so he could claim my mouth in a kiss that was pure possession. I moaned against his lips, but then pulled back, my hands pressing firmly against his shoulders.
“Dominic,” I said, my voice steady despite my racing heart. “I said I’m going to take care of you.”
He growled low in his throat, his alpha instincts clearly fighting my direction. “Leo, I need?—”
“I know what you need,” I interrupted, pushing him gently but insistently toward the bed. “But you’re exhausted,malnourished, and you’ve been taking care of yourself for weeks. For now, you’re going to let your omega take care of you.”
I could see the internal battle in his cool gray eyes—the desperate need to dominate warring with his trust in me, his exhaustion and the lingering effects of the stressed bond making his alpha instincts more raw and demanding.
“Get in my nest and lay down.” I said, mustering as much authority into my tone as I could. My command didn’t hold the same inflection that an alpha command would, but the omega in me preened when he moved to obey.