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Chapter Twenty-Eight

Lilianna

The next week was a blur of sleeping and eating with visits from everyone through the day. The medication transition was affecting me more than Dr. Chen had anticipated, leaving me exhausted but restless, my body adjusting to the removal of the harsh suppressants that had controlled me for so long.

I spent most of my time in my nest, grateful for the weighted blanket and scent-comfort items that kept me grounded when waves of emotion would crash over me unexpectedly.

Christopher brought meals on trays, each one designed to tempt my fluctuating appetite.

Miles brought fresh flowers from the garden, their subtle fragrance helping to soothe my increasingly sensitive nose.

Nicolaus checked my vitals with gentle efficiency, keeping detailed notes to share with Dr. Chen.

And Julian... Julian would sit with me in comfortable silence, sometimes reading aloud when my racing thoughts needed anchoring, never mentioning our kiss but his eyes holding promises whenever I looked at him.

Today marked the eighth day since I'd started the new medication, and for the first time in a week, I woke feeling something close to normal.

The bone-deep fatigue that had plagued me seemed to have lifted somewhat, and my thoughts felt clearer, less jumbled.

I stretched beneath the weighted blanket, cataloging the sensations in my body with newfound awareness.

"Good morning," came Nicolaus's voice from the doorway. He stood with his tablet in hand, hair still damp from his morning swim. "How are you feeling today?"

"Better," I said, surprised by the truth of it. "Much better, actually."

His eyebrows rose slightly as he approached, his analytical gaze taking in my appearance. "Your color has improved. May I?" He gestured toward my wrist, and I extended my arm, already accustomed to his morning vitals check.

His fingers were cool against my skin as he took my pulse, his expression shifting from clinical assessment to quiet approval.

"Your heart rate is more regular today," he noted, making an entry on his tablet. "And your scent is changing."

"My scent?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious. "Is that bad?"

"Quite the opposite," Nicolaus replied, his blue eyes warming slightly. "It's becoming more distinctly you—less muted by the suppressants. It's a positive sign that your body is beginning to function more naturally."

I sniffed myself only smelling the floral smell I was used to.

"I don't notice any difference," I admitted, pulling the scarf Miles had scented closer to my face.

"That's normal," Nicolaus explained, settling into the chair by my window. "We're often blind to our own scent changes. But to us, you're beginning to smell less... clinical. More alive." He paused thoughtfully. "There's a warmth to it now that wasn't there before."

The idea that my scent was becoming more appealing to them made heat flutter in my stomach. "Is that why you've all been..." I trailed off, not sure how to articulate what I'd noticed.

"Been what?" Nicolaus prompted gently.

"More attentive. Lingering longer when you visit. Christopher keeps finding excuses to touch my forehead when he brings food. Miles has been bringing flowers every day instead of just occasionally." I bit my lip.

Nicolaus's lips curved into a rare smile, his cold mask slipping to reveal something warmer underneath.

"We've been responding to your natural scent, yes.

It's... compelling." He cleared his throat, his professional demeanor reasserting itself slightly.

"Alpha and beta responses to omega scent are largely involuntary, especially when that omega is someone we care about. "

"Compelling how?" I asked, emboldened by his honesty.

"Like wanting to be near you more often.

To ensure your comfort and safety." His blue eyes held mine steadily.

"To scent-mark items for your nest without being asked.

To bring you things that might make you smile.

" He paused, seeming to weigh his words.

"Julian mentioned you kissed the night you started your meds. "

Heat flooded my cheeks at his directness. "He told you?"

"We don't keep secrets from each other about anything…especially when it comes to the Omega we all want to be the center of our pack.” Nicolaus's expression remained gentle despite the clinical nature of his words.

“We needed to understand if your increased responsiveness was medication-related or natural development.

From what he described, it was entirely natural—a healthy response that had nothing to do with the medication transition. "

My face burned hotter at the thought of them discussing my kiss, but there was something oddly comforting about their matter-of-fact approach to it. "It felt natural," I admitted quietly. "More natural than anything I've ever experienced."

"Good," Nicolaus said simply. "That's exactly what we hoped to hear." He made another note on his tablet before looking back at me. "How do you feel about getting out of this room today? Perhaps joining us for breakfast downstairs?"

The suggestion sparked a flutter of anticipation rather than the anxiety I might have expected a week ago. "I'd like that. I'd actually been thinking about it when I woke up. I'm tired of being in this room."

Nicolaus nodded, his expression warming further. "Excellent. I'll let the others know. Christopher is making Belgian waffles this morning—he's been waiting for a day when you might feel up to joining us."

The thought of Christopher planning special breakfasts in anticipation of my recovery made my chest tighten with unexpected emotion. These past days of weakness and vulnerability should have been humiliating, but instead, they'd shown me a gentleness I'd never experienced before.

"I should shower first," I said, pushing back the weighted blanket. "I've been living in pajamas for a week."

"Take your time," Nicolaus replied, standing to leave. "There's no rush."

After he left, I moved carefully to the bathroom, still mindful of the occasional dizziness that could catch me unaware.

The warm water felt heavenly against my skin, which seemed more sensitive than before.

I noticed each sensation with new awareness—the gentle pressure of water droplets, the silky texture of shampoo, the subtle scent of my body wash that somehow smelled richer than I remembered.

After drying off, I selected a simple sundress from the wardrobe, the soft fabric a welcome change from the pajamas I'd been living in.

My reflection in the mirror surprised me—my cheeks held more color than they had in years, and my eyes seemed brighter, more alive.

Even my hair felt different, thicker somehow as I brushed it out.

The walk downstairs required more energy than I anticipated, but determination carried me through.

The scent of coffee and something sweet guided me to the kitchen, where I found all four men engaged in comfortable morning routines.

Christopher stood at the stove, carefully tending to what smelled like the most incredible waffles I'd ever encountered.

Miles sat at the island with a steaming mug, reading what appeared to be seed catalogs, while Julian reviewed papers that looked suspiciously like work he'd brought home.

All three looked up as I entered, their expressions shifting from casual morning routine to something warmer, more focused.

"There she is," Christopher said, his face lighting up with genuine delight. "You look wonderful, Lilianna."

I felt heat creep up my neck at the attention, suddenly hyperaware of how they were all looking at me—not with the clinical concern of the past week, but with something that made my stomach flutter pleasantly.

"I feel more human today," I admitted, accepting the chair Julian pulled out for me. "Thank you for being so patient with me this week."

"We're just glad to see you feeling better," Miles said, setting aside his catalog. His green eyes lingered on my face, warm with appreciation.

Julian placed a steaming mug of tea before me—chamomile with honey, just as I liked it. "Small sips," he advised gently. "Your stomach might still be adjusting."

I wrapped my hands around the warm ceramic, inhaling the soothing aroma. "I've missed being downstairs. Being part of... this." I gestured vaguely at the four of them, at the comfortable domesticity of the kitchen.

Christopher flipped a perfect golden waffle onto a plate, adding fresh berries and a light dusting of powdered sugar before setting it before me. "Start with just a little," he suggested. "We can always make more if you're feeling up to it."

We all ate as we made small talk, and I couldn’t help but feel happier about where I was. I just finished eating when Miles spoke up.

“How about we go shopping this week once you are feeling a bit better.” Miles stated as he glanced at the dress I was wearing, “I think it is time we get you some clothes you want.”

I couldn't hide my surprise at Miles's suggestion. Shopping for clothes had always been an ordeal with my mother—hours of her selecting items that met her rigid standards while dismissing anything I showed interest in.

"Really?" I asked, setting down my fork. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not," Miles replied, his green eyes warm. "You should have clothes that make you feel good, not just what was deemed appropriate by your parents. We can get you some other things like books and such as well while we are at it."

Julian nodded, setting aside his papers. "We've been waiting until you felt well enough. Your recovery has been our priority."

"And you've been wearing the same few dresses since you arrived," Christopher added gently. "Not that they don't look lovely on you, but everyone deserves variety."