Page 48 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas (Hollow Haven #2)

Elias

T he morning light filtering through the cabin windows had a different quality than it had three days ago.

Softer somehow, warmer, like even the sun understood that something fundamental had shifted in this space.

I stood in the kitchen doorway, watching my pack navigate their first real morning as a completely bonded unit, and felt the deep satisfaction of a healer whose most important patients had not just survived but thrived.

The bonds between all four of us hummed with contentment and connection, stable and strong in a way that made my chest tight with emotion.

This was what successful pack bonding looked like.

Not just individual connections, but a network of love and support that made all of us stronger than we could ever be alone.

Willa sat curled in the window seat with a cup of the post-heat recovery tea I’d blended specifically for her, her camera resting forgotten in her lap as she watched the morning light play across the forest. She looked different now.

Not just the obvious physical markers of successful bonding, the claiming marks that decorated her neck like badges of belonging, but something deeper.

A settling, a contentment that radiated from her very core.

“How are you feeling this morning?” I asked, settling beside her with my own coffee.

“Like I’m exactly where I belong,” she said, turning to smile at me with eyes that were clearer and more peaceful than I’d ever seen them. “Like everything that came before was just preparation for this.”

Through our bond, I could feel the truth of her words.

The deep satisfaction of an omega who had been properly claimed and cared for, whose vulnerability had been rewarded with love instead of exploitation.

It was exactly what I’d hoped to achieve, but experiencing it firsthand was more powerful than I’d expected.

“Any discomfort? Physically or emotionally?” I asked, slipping into healer mode automatically.

“Just the good kind,” she said with a soft laugh. “Sore in all the right places, overwhelmed by how much I can feel all of you in my mind. It’s incredible.”

The pack bonds were still settling, I knew. For the first few days after complete bonding, the emotional connections could feel overwhelming. But Willa seemed to be adapting beautifully, learning to distinguish between her own feelings and the emotions bleeding through from her mates.

“It’ll stabilize as you get used to it,” I assured her. “The intensity will settle into something more manageable.”

“I don’t want it to be less intense,” she said quickly. “I love being able to feel how happy you all are. How content and satisfied and… complete.”

Complete. That was exactly the right word. For the first time in my life, I felt like all the pieces of myself were in the right places. Not just my role as a healer or my individual relationships, but my place in this family we’d built together.

Rhett appeared from the direction of the workshop, his hair still damp from a shower and his scent carrying the satisfied contentment of an alpha whose omega was safe and happy. He moved differently now, I noticed. Less restless energy, more purposeful calm.

“Morning,” he said, dropping a kiss on top of Willa’s head before settling into the chair across from us. “Sleep well?”

“Better than I have in years,” she said honestly. “Waking up surrounded by pack is… there aren’t words for how safe it feels.”

“There are words,” he said with a grin. “But they’re all variations of ‘home.’”

Home. The word sent warmth through all our bonds, the shared recognition that we’d created something precious and permanent together.

Wes emerged from his office, laptop in hand but attention focused entirely on our little family gathering. His scent carried the same deep satisfaction as the rest of us, along with something that felt like wonder. Like he still couldn’t quite believe this was real.

“How’s the water quality report coming?” I asked, noting the environmental documents scattered around his workspace.

“Submitted,” he said with satisfaction. “Three weeks ahead of schedule, thanks to having uninterrupted time to focus.”

“Uninterrupted except for the bonding,” Rhett pointed out with amusement.

“Especially because of the bonding,” Wes corrected. “Hard to concentrate on work when you’re distracted by wondering if your omega is happy. Now I know she’s happy. I can feel it.”

The casual way he said ‘your omega’ sent a wave of happiness through me. Not possessive in a controlling way, but acknowledging the reality of what we’d built. She was ours, and we were hers, in every way that mattered.

“What’s on the agenda today?” Willa asked, stretching languidly in a way that made all three alphas track the movement with appreciative eyes.

“Recovery,” I said firmly. “Rest, hydration, gentle movement if you feel up to it. Your body needs time to fully integrate the bonding process.”

“I feel fine,” she protested, though I could sense through our bond that she was more tired than she wanted to admit.

“You feel bonded,” I corrected gently. “Which includes a cocktail of hormones that can mask fatigue. Trust me on this one.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Rhett added with a grin, “is that you’re not allowed to overdo it. Doctor’s orders.”

“I’m not a doctor,” I said automatically.

“You are to us,” Willa said softly, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “You took care of all of us through the most important experience of our lives. If that doesn’t make you our doctor, I don’t know what does.”

The trust in her voice made my chest tight with emotion. This incredible woman, who had every reason to be wary of anyone claiming medical authority over her, was choosing to see my care as healing rather than control.

“Speaking of taking care of each other,” Wes said, settling on the floor beside the window seat, “we should talk about how this changes our daily routines.”

“Changes them how?” Willa asked.

“We’re pack now,” he said simply. “Officially, completely, permanently. That means we need to figure out how to navigate things like work schedules, household responsibilities, decision making.”

“And boundaries,” I added, because it was important to address this early. “How much time together versus apart, how we handle conflicts, what happens when one of us needs space.”

“Do any of you want space?” she asked, something vulnerable creeping into her voice.

“Not want,” Rhett said quickly. “But need, sometimes. Everyone needs alone time occasionally, even in the best relationships.”

“The key is making sure space feels like self-care rather than rejection,” I said gently. “Which means communicating clearly about what we need and why.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to be apart from you for long,” she admitted. “Is that normal?”

“It’s normal for newly bonded packs,” I assured her. “The urge to stay close is biological for the first few weeks. It’ll settle into something more sustainable.”

“What if I don’t want it to settle?” she asked quietly.

“Then we adapt,” Wes said simply. “We figure out work arrangements and social commitments that keep us together as much as possible.”

“Just like that?” she asked, like she couldn’t quite believe it could be so simple.

“Just like that,” Rhett confirmed. “Your comfort and happiness come first. Everything else is negotiable.”

I watched her process this, saw the moment when she truly understood that her needs would be centered in every decision we made going forward. It was beautiful and heartbreaking to witness, this incredible woman learning to believe she deserved to be cherished.

“What about your businesses?” she asked. “Your careers?”

“What about them?” I replied. “I can run the apothecary with more flexible hours. Take on fewer clients if it means more time with pack.”

“I’ve been thinking about transitioning to more custom work anyway,” Rhett added. “Projects I can be selective about, that don’t require me to be away from home for long periods.”

“And my work is already here,” Wes said. “Wildlife management and conservation work keeps me local most of the time anyway.”

“You’d all do that?” she asked, wonder clear in her voice. “Restructure your entire lives around staying close to me?”

“We’d restructure our entire lives around being the family we want to be,” I corrected gently. “Which includes staying close to each other, not just you.”

“Pack isn’t about individual sacrifice,” Wes added. “It’s about collective prioritization. We all want the same thing, a life that keeps us together and happy.”

“Besides,” Rhett said with a grin, “it’s not sacrifice when it’s what we want anyway. I’d rather do interesting work that lets me come home to you every night than chase money and grinding at the garage for all hours that would keep us apart.”

The afternoon settled into the kind of domestic routine that felt both new and completely natural.

Willa napped in the nest room while Rhett worked on sketches for cabin modifications.

Wes caught up on email and work reports while I prepared herbal supplements for all of us, different blends for each person’s specific needs.

When Willa woke, we gravitated naturally toward the living room, all four of us ending up in a comfortable pile on the couch. Not sexual, just the need to be close and touching and connected.

“This is nice,” she said softly, her head resting on my shoulder while Rhett’s arm encircled all of us and Wes’s hand traced patterns on her ankle.

“This is everything,” Wes corrected, and I felt his contentment echo through our bonds.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, tilting her head to look at all three of us.

“Anything,” I said, speaking for all of us.

“How long have you known? That this was what you wanted?”

The question made me consider carefully. When had I known that traditional relationships would never be enough? When had I understood that I needed pack rather than just a mate?

“Consciously? Since the day I met you,” I said honestly. “But looking back, I think I always knew something was missing. I just didn’t know what it was until I found it.”

“Same,” Rhett said. “I thought I was just bad at relationships. Turns out I was looking for the wrong kind of relationship.”

“I knew something was off when I started caring more about your happiness than my own solitude,” Wes added. “When the idea of you being with anyone else made me want to fight for you instead of walking away.”

“And when did you know it would work?” she asked. “That the three of you could share without it destroying your friendships?”

That was a more complex question, and I could see both Rhett and Wes considering it seriously.

“The first time I saw Rhett help you with something and felt proud instead of jealous,” I said finally. “When I realized that your happiness was more important than my ego.”

“For me it was watching Elias take care of you after that heat flare,” Rhett said. “Seeing how gentle and competent he was, and feeling grateful instead of threatened.”

“Mine was simpler,” Wes admitted. “It was the moment I realized I genuinely liked you both as people. That even without Willa in the equation, I’d want you in my life.”

“Really?” she asked, something like wonder in her voice.

“Really,” he confirmed. “You brought us together, but what we built is bigger than just shared attraction to you. We’re friends. Brothers. Family.”

“Found family,” I added, because the distinction mattered. “The kind you choose instead of the kind you’re stuck with.”

“The best kind,” Rhett concluded.

As evening approached, we fell into what was already becoming our routine.

Rhett cooked dinner with the focused attention he brought to everything important.

I set the table and prepared evening supplements.

Wes reviewed tomorrow’s weather and adjusted environmental controls for optimal comfort.

Willa supervised from her perch at the kitchen island, offering opinions and asking questions and generally being the center around which we all orbited.

“I love this,” she said as we sat down to eat. “The way we all take care of each other. The way everyone contributes something different.”

“It’s sustainable,” I said with satisfaction. “Everyone giving from their strengths instead of forcing themselves into roles that don’t fit.”

“What happens when we disagree about something?” she asked. “When we want different things?”

“We talk it through,” Wes said simply. “We find compromises or we take turns getting our way. We remember that we’re on the same team.”

“What if someone feels left out or neglected?”

“Then they speak up,” Rhett said firmly. “And the rest of us adjust. No suffering in silence, no expecting people to read our minds.”

“What if I mess this up?” she asked quietly, the question carrying the weight of old fears.

“You won’t,” I said with absolute certainty. “But even if you did, even if any of us did, we’d figure it out together. That’s what families do.”

“Families forgive each other,” Wes added.

“Families choose each other every day,” Rhett concluded.

As we cleaned up dinner and prepared for our second night as a completely bonded pack, I found myself thinking about healing again. How it wasn’t just about fixing what was broken, but about building something strong enough to withstand whatever came next.

We’d all been broken in different ways before we found each other. Willa by abuse and trauma, Rhett by isolation and defensiveness, Wes by self-sufficiency that had become loneliness, me by the belief that caring for others was enough to fill the emptiness inside.

But now we were something new. Something whole and healthy and strong enough to support not just our own happiness, but the happiness of others who might need what we’d learned about love and trust and chosen family.

“Thank you,” Willa said as we settled into bed together, all four of us naturally finding our positions in the big bed that was finally big enough for our family.

“For what?” I asked, though I suspected I knew.

“For seeing something in me that I couldn’t see in myself,” she said softly. “For believing I was worth saving even when I didn’t.”

“Thank you for letting us save you,” Wes replied. “For trusting us with your heart even when you had every reason not to.”

“Thank you for saving us too,” Rhett added. “For showing us what we were missing and then helping us build it together.”

“We saved each other,” I said, feeling the truth of it in every bond that connected us. “That’s what families do.”

As we drifted toward sleep, surrounded by the warmth and scent and absolute safety of pack, I realized that this was what happily ever after actually looked like. Not an ending, but a beginning. The foundation upon which we’d build years and decades of shared joy and love.