Page 18 of A Promise of Forever (The Vallaverse #3)

"But you have staff?" His confusion is genuine, like the concept of me cooking for him doesn't make sense. I suppose most of the other powerful men in this business don’t cook for themselves.

I can't help but laugh at his bewilderment. "They help with the upkeep of the place, not to cater to my every whim."

Sterling leans a little farther into my side, waiting until I bring a bowl to his lap.

He holds it close to his chest, almost as if I’ve given him a gift before he starts taking small, careful bites.

I watch him eat, cataloging the way color gradually returns to his pale cheeks, how his shoulders relax incrementally with each spoonful.

It's amazing what just one day of proper attention and care has done for my Omega. The bruises are still littered across his neck, but I tell myself they’re almost fainter now, that time here at my side has erased some of the nightmare he fled from.

It takes everything in me not to pull him into my lap and wrap myself around him until he feels completely safe.

But I know that level of physical contact would terrify him right now and send him spiraling.

So, I content myself with watching him eat, the sweet, content little sounds falling from his lips enough to satisfy me.

His scent mingles with mine, the bodywash he chose doing nothing to hide that he’s as smothered in my scent as I am in his. I fucking love it.

Sterling presses himself farther into me, his spoon dangling from his mouth when he reaches my eyes.

“Do you like it?” The fragile look on his face almost breaks me as he searches for my approval again.

He sits back a little and places the spoon back into the bowl.

“Wilson didn’t, but I thought… You said…

” His brows furrow as he clutches the soup a little tighter to his chest.

I have to bite back a smile as I give in and pull him into my lap, cupping his cheek in my hand. “Take a deep breath for me, Sterling. There you go. Now, explain to me what you were trying to say.”

He purses his lips together for a moment, his cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink. “I saw you. My scent gets really strong when I eat and they would always tell me. But you were smiling. I thought maybe you liked it.” He starts searching my face and I realize he’s waiting for rejection.

Those bastard exes of his actually demeaned him for his scent.

If I didn’t already want to kill Wilson, I would now.

“I absolutely love your scent, but I also feel a lot of this is just as new for you as it is for me. Maybe in a different way, but it’s a new situation and I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.

” I’m still not holding him the way I want to, which seems to be slightly stressing the both of us out.

“Promise me you’ll tell me when it’s too much.

Promise me that because I don’t want to ruin this. ”

“I promise. Please… just don’t…”

“Never. I won’t hurt you, Sterling. Ever. You have my word.”

He starts eating again as I drop my hand to his hip, hesitating for a few moments before leaning in to drag my nose along the side of his face.

Sterling leans into the touch, humming around his spoon as I continue exploring.

He arches his neck to the side, allowing me more room.

I relish the moment, drinking in his sweetened scent until he finishes and holds the bowl up to me.

"It was very good. Thank you, sir," he whispers before meeting my eyes.

The gratitude in his tone makes me smile despite the circumstances.

"My father would be very happy to know that I can make it right.

He spent years trying to teach both me and Caelan how to cook, convinced we'd starve to death if we relied entirely on restaurant food." I press another kiss to his forehead before taking his bowl and setting it down beside my untouched one. I’ll eat once he’s asleep.

Sterling hums appreciatively, the sound vibrating through his whole body as he relaxes into the affection.

His scent spikes sweeter for just a moment before settling back to the baseline of approaching heat.

"Let's get some sleep, alright?" I suggest, recognizing the exhaustion in his posture despite his obvious desire to stay close to me.

Sterling's expression immediately shifts to something close to panic. "I don't want to go to that room, though. I can stay here. Maybe? I won't make any noise. I..."

His words tumble over each other in his anxiety.

My initial reaction is anger, the notion to tell him to just stop worrying an immediate response, but it gives way as I realize what feels like weeks of time together has only been a day.

I still don’t have his trust, not fully.

But I will. I hold him a little tighter to my chest, Sterling turning his face into my neck.

"Hey, deep breaths. There you go. I'm not going to take you back there.

I have something else in mind. Something a bit cozier. "

The relief that floods Sterling's body is almost painful. I stand, keeping him in my arms, Sterling making a small sound of surprise before curling into my hold, his arms wrapping around my neck for stability. "Where are we going?" he asks, his voice muffled against my shoulder. "I can walk."

"You don't have any shoes on," I point out, already moving toward the back of the house once I exit the office. "And we're going outside."

The property behind the main house stretches out in carefully maintained gardens and walking paths, but at the very edge of the grounds sits a small cottage that most people don't even know exists.

My parents built it years ago when they started stepping back from the business, creating a private retreat separate from the main house and all its associated violence and criminal activity.

My Omega father loved that cottage. He'd spend days there when the business got too overwhelming, when the darkness of our world became too much to handle.

After my parents died, I kept the cottage maintained but rarely visited it.

But now, carrying Sterling through the evening air with his sweet scent wrapped around me, I understand why I've been maintaining that space all these years. It was waiting for this moment, for this particular Omega who needs sanctuary more than luxury.

The cottage comes into view, that amber, warm lighting filtering through the windows that I remember from all those years ago.

I shift Sterling's weight to open the door, then step inside and set him carefully on his feet.

Sterling's reaction is immediate. His eyes go wide as he takes in the space, his whole body going very still as his scent spikes to levels that make my head spin.

The cottage is everything the main house isn't. The studio layout feels intimate rather than imposing, with the bed taking up nearly half the room. It's positioned at waist level on a raised platform, surrounded by what looks like hundreds of pillows in various sizes and textures. Soft blankets are folded neatly at the foot of the bed, and the whole space smells faintly of lavender and spice from the sachets my father used to tuck into the linens. I’ve had the staff maintain just the same way they did for my parents and while it’s not plushies and lavish Omega nests like in those articles, it’s a whole hell of a lot better than that bedroom I placed him in last night.

I can only imagine how much my Omega father loved this place, how safe and cherished he must have felt when my Valla father built this for him.

The sweet aroma of Sterling's scent intensifies dramatically, and I look over to see him blushing, his hands trembling slightly in front of him as he stares at the bed.

"Hey," I say gently, concerned by his sudden stillness. "What's wrong?"

Sterling's voice comes out barely above a whisper. "It's... I... mine?"

The hopeful uncertainty in his tone breaks something in my chest. "Do you like it?"

"I've never had a nest," he says, tears slipping down his cheeks as he takes a tentative step forward. "I... there... mine?"

The broken grammar and stuttered words tell me he's completely overwhelmed by emotion, unable to process that someone is offering him something Omegas naturally build on their own. I read something about Omegas constructing a nest when they feel safe and knowing that he’s never had one of his own both angers and worries me.

He reaches out to run his fingers along the blankets, like he's afraid they might disappear if he touches them too firmly.

Sterling climbs onto the bed cautiously, growing more confident by the minute before falling face-down into the pillows.

I bite back a chuckle as the shirt he’s swimming in rides up to his waist, his sexy little ass staring back at me.

He shimmies further into the nest before letting out a little cry of happiness, the sound muffled by the soft fabric.

Then he turns over, staring up at the ceiling with wonder written across his face.

For several moments, I just watch him. He’s perfectly in his own little element, his fingers curling into the plush that I swore to myself this morning I wouldn’t be able to stand.

“It’s perfect. I love it.” He drags one of the blankets to his nose and then groans before sitting up a little. “It doesn’t smell right, though.” I frown, about to ask what he means when he sniffs at it again and shakes his head. “Fuck, I meant. Sorry, sir. I just…”

I chuckle as I close the door behind us and then step toward the bed. “Do you need it to smell like me, little dove?”

He throws me a glare and then shakes his head. “Can you stay?” Ah.

I was about to drag that blanket across my face or scent gland or whatever the fuck it takes to scent it, but staying sounds so much more enticing. "Would you like me to?"

"I don't want to do anything," Sterling says quickly, scooting farther toward the headboard. "But I want... can you just hold me?"

The request is so simple, so heartbreakingly modest in its scope, that I feel my protective instincts roar to life all over again.

"I would love that." I kick off my shoes and move to lock the cottage door, ensuring our privacy and Sterling's sense of security.

Then I climb onto the bed, situating myself against the pile of pillows so there's room for Sterling to choose how close he wants to be.

He stares at the space between us, almost calculating comfort over desire before pressing himself against my chest, his smaller body fitting perfectly against mine.

The feel of him pressed against me, warm and trusting and exactly where he belongs, makes my purr start up automatically.

"Touch, please," Sterling whispers against my chest. "I need you to touch."

The request is so different from his earlier panic that I marvel at how quickly his comfort level can shift when he feels safe.

I wrap my arms around him carefully, holding him close but not tight enough to feel trapped, and he sags against me with a sigh that sounds like relief.

My purr deepens, the rumbling sound filling the small cottage as Sterling melts into my embrace.

His scent is pure contentment now, the sweetness of approaching heat mixed with something that speaks to safety and belonging.

"I know I can't trust all this," Sterling murmurs against my chest. "But I'm just going to pretend that it's the best dream I've ever had until I wake up, okay?"

He still doesn't believe this is real, still expects to wake up and find himself back in whatever nightmare Wilson created for him.

The knowledge that Sterling sees safety and care as something too good to be true makes me hold him a little tighter.

If I have any say in it, this is going to be a dream he never has to wake up from.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, the vibration jarring in the peaceful quiet of the cottage.

Sterling stiffens slightly in my arms, pulling back just enough to look up at my face.

"I'm taking you away from your work, aren't I?

" The fact that he's worried about my work when he should be focused on his own needs pisses me off.

Not at Sterling, but at everyone who taught him that his comfort comes last, that taking care of himself is somehow selfish.

I reach into my pocket, pull out my phone, and turn it completely off without even looking at who was trying to reach me.

Then I slide it back into my pocket and return my full attention to the Omega in my arms. "Problem solved," I tell him, pressing a kiss to the top of his damp hair.

"Go to sleep. I'll still be here in the morning. "

Sterling relaxes completely at that promise, his body going boneless against mine as exhaustion finally catches up with him.

I lie there holding him, listening to his soft breathing and feeling his heartbeat against my chest, and realize that everything in my life has fundamentally changed.

The business, the power, the reputation I've spent years building, all of it suddenly feels less important than making sure this particular Omega feels safe and cherished.

Marcus and Caelan and even fucking Bryn were all right.

This broken, beautiful Omega is mine now, and I'm going to do everything in my power to prove that he can trust in the world I can give him.