Page 95 of Knot Their Safe Haven

But hell, I’m not backing down with what I want.

LEARNING TO NEST

~VELVET~

The living room stretches before me like an advertisement for architecture magazines—vaulted ceilings with exposed beams, windows that frame mountains like living paintings, furniture that costs more than most annual salaries. I'm curled in the corner of a leather sofa that probably required the sacrifice of very expensive cows, holding nothing, doing nothing, being nothing.

The revelation sits heavy: I don't know how to just exist.

Twenty years of running the Haven, of fighting battles, of being the Rebel Queen who never stopped moving because stillness meant acknowledging the emptiness. Now here I am, recovered from near-death, claimed by a new pack, and I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself when there's no crisis demanding attention.

"You look like a lost soul who's forgotten the point of living."

Alexis appears with two glasses of lemonade—actual fresh-squeezed lemonade with mint leaves and everything, because apparently this cottage doesn't do anything halfway. She's changed into fitted jeans and a black tank top that shows arms defined by either excellent genetics or dedication to iron.

"That's exactly what I am." The admission comes out easier than expected. "I don't know how to just... rot."

She hands me the glass, condensation immediately beading on the crystal. "Rot?"

"Sit. Exist. Do nothing productive." I gesture vaguely at the space around us. "I've never had time to just be useless."

Alexis drops onto the other end of the couch with zero ceremony, spreading her legs wide and slouching into leather like she's claiming territory. The casual masculinity of the gesture contrasts with the delicate features of her face, creating that cognitive dissonance that makes her fascinating to watch.

"That's what nests are for, obviously." She takes a sip of lemonade, ice clinking. "Safe space to shut your brain off. Read trashy billionaire romance novels with absolutely filthy sex scenes. Nap for fourteen hours. Eat snacks in bed without judgment."

I blink at her, processing this foreign concept.

"You look like I just spoke Mandarin."

"I understood the words individually."

Her eyebrow rises in that way that suggests she's recalculating something fundamental. "Why do you look like you've never nested in your life?"

The shy smile escapes before I can stop it.

"Because I haven't?"

"You mentioned that before, but I thought—" She stops mid-sentence, setting her lemonade on the coffee table with deliberate care. Her full attention shifts to me, ice-blue eyes intense. "I thought you were being dramatic with those coward losers present. Playing up the neglect for effect."

"No effect. Just truth."

She sits forward, elbows on knees, studying me like I'm a particularly complex merger proposal.

"Velvet. Have you never had a nest? Ever? In thirty-nine years of being an omega?"

"Could you define nest?" The question feels childish, but I genuinely need parameters. "Is it like an outdoor thing? Sticks and leaves? I had a tree fort once in foster home number five, but that was more about escaping than comfort."

Her eyes go wide enough that I can see white all around the irises.

"No! Jesus, no. A nest is—" She runs a hand through her blonde bob, clearly reorganizing thoughts. "It's a space that's entirely yours. Usually a room or section of room filled with soft things—pillows, blankets, cushions. You arrange everything exactly how you want, decorate it with things that bring comfort. And traditionally, you'd have clothing from each pack member, so when we're apart, you're still surrounded by our scents."

The concept settles in my chest like longing for something I didn't know existed.

"It's a safety space," she continues, voice gentling. "Where omegas can retreat when the world gets overwhelming. Where you can ugly cry into pillows that smell like your pack. Where you can masturbate without shame. Where you can eat ice cream at 3 AM and no one judges. It's... it's fundamental omega care."

Masturbate, eat ice cream and just chill with no judgement…wow. Sounds like a literally dream.

"Oh."