The Light in Us

57. Wilder

57

Wilder

A fter the unexpected shock of racing home to tend our mate during her heat spike – and finding Rowan and Teddy doing a pretty fucking phenomenal job of it instead – my body feels too tightly-wound to go back to the office.

I work from home instead, taking calls from my team, from various publishing industry press organisations, and trying not to think about the fact that Fallon’s sweet scent – her fucking slick – is everywhere .

When I can’t cope with it anymore, I go looking for her. Teddy and Ro are curled up in the living room, Rowan still looking a little stupefied.

I don’t blame him at all. “Have you seen Fallon?”

Teddy points up. “She needed to sleep it off.”

Makes sense. Omegas need more rest in the build-up to a heat, and we all know that Fallon’s is going to hit her with the approximate force of a freight train.

I keep my footsteps quiet as I ease her door open. But she’s not here. Her bed is rumpled as if she kicked the blankets off.

Frowning, I glance over my shoulder, my eyes lowering to the ground.

What the hell?

The hall stretches out away from me and dotting the floor at regular intervals… are blankets .

I bend to pick the first one up.

Then the second.

It’s like a little omega trail. My lips start to tug up as I follow it, my heart twisting. “Fallon?”

There’s no response. I pick up another three blankets before I reach the final one.

It’s right in front of my bedroom door. I nudge the door open.

My smile grows soft as I follow yet more blankets over to my closet. Tiny little shuffling movements are coming from inside.

My mate is possibly the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my damn life.

She twists, her amber eyes wide as I take the scene in.

Because Fallon is nesting. In miniature.

And inside my closet. The walk-in space is filled, every inch of floor space taken up with blankets and shirts. I recognise Fox’s favorite hoodie as Fallon shifts it around with a little crease between her eyebrows, until she’s happy with the position.

And then she moves onto the shirt I was wearing… yesterday. She buries her face in it, breathing in.

“Hey,” I whisper gently, not sure what I’m working with. I kneel a short distance away, giving her space as she turns to me. “Little mate. What are you doing?”

Her gaze snags on the shirt I’m wearing. It’s an older one, a soft pink flannel worn by years of use. She stares at it for so long that my fingers drop to the buttons. “You want this? You can have it, baby.”

Fallon can have whatever the hell she wants, because I can’t cope with the cuteness. My breathing stops as my mate crawls out of my closet and straight onto my lap. She buries her face in my chest and breathes in, a cute little growling sound vibrating into my skin.

Fuck. Me.

Carefully, I stroke her back. She shuffles, making a little huffing sound. “You like that?”

Her cheek is rubbing against my chest as Fallon pushes herself into me, her knees sliding to either side of my hips as I kneel there.

I cast my eyes upward, mentally praying for self-control as my hormone-addled omega rubs herself against me, more little growls falling from her lips as I pet her and she stretches out like a kitten. Her exposed neck is a damn beacon, and she shivers when I press my lips to it.

If she was fully aware – or if she was wearing my bonding mark – I’d already be knot-deep in her, giving her exactly what she needs.

But for now, I keep running my hands over her in petting movements as my mate wrestles me out of my shirt with an almost freakish amount of strength and pulls it over the vest top she’s wearing. It swamps her, but she smiles up at me as if I’ve handed her the damn moon.

And then she curls up against my chest and falls asleep.