Page 77 of His Drama Queen

"Understood," all three say in unison.

"And—" I swallow hard. "And if I say stop, you stop. Immediately. No matter what."

"Of course," Oakley says.

"Always," from Corvus.

Dorian nods. "You have my word."

The heat is building faster now. Minutes, maybe. Not the hour I predicted.

"Then help me," I say.

And for the first time since they claimed me in that study room, I make the choice to let them.

Not because biology demands it.

Not because I'm trapped.

Because yesterday showed me they're capable of being better. And today, they proved they're willing to try.

It's not forgiveness.

But maybe it's enough to survive this heat together instead of burning through it alone.

Dorian helps me into the nest. The cashmere is as soft as it looked. The weighted blanket grounds me immediately. Their scents surround me—sandalwood and cedar and mint all woven together—and instead of fighting it, I let myself sink into it.

"Better?" Oakley asks.

"Yes," I admit.

Because it is.

But something's missing.

"The nest needs scent," I say. My voice comes out hoarse. "It's all new. Smells like store. Like nothing. It needs... you."

Dorian pulls off his shirt without hesitation. The one he's been wearing all day, saturated with his sandalwood. He tucks it between the cashmere and silk. Oakley does the same, his cedar-scented shirt joining the nest. Corvus adds his sweater, mint seeping into the faux fur.

Better. But still not enough.

"In it," I say. "Get in the nest. All of you."

They exchange glances but comply. Dorian settles against the pillows first, his scent soaking into the down. Oakley stretches out on one side, pressing into the merino wool. Corvus takes the other side, his weight sinking into the cashmere.

They stay there for several minutes. Letting their scents saturate every fiber. Marking it as theirs. As ours. As pack.

When they climb out, the nest looks lived in. Comfortable. Safe.

And it smells perfect.

"Try it," Dorian says softly.

I slide into the nest.

Oh.

Oh.