The air was thick with instinct, charged with the kind of electricity that only came before a storm—or a heat. You felt it deep in your bones, the low thrumming awareness of your body preparing itself, dragging you closer to the edge with each hour. The walls of your shared bedroom were soft with blankets, pillows, and worn shirts that smelled of him. You’d been nesting for days, and he’d let you. No questions. No interruptions. Only quiet support and the steady rhythm of his presence nearby.

Caspian moved through the room with the same controlled strength that defined him—tall, broad-shouldered, his body carved from years of work and discipline. He didn’t swagger like other alphas. He didn’t need to. Everything about him—his voice, his scent, his gaze—commanded attention without a single word. His black hair fell loose around his temples, a little damp from the shower, curling at the ends. His jaw was dark with stubble, and his golden-brown eyes flicked from you to the nest, then back again. Always watching. Always gauging what you needed before you could even try to ask.

He crossed the room barefoot, the scent of pine, smoke, and something grounding—his scent—trailing behind him like a protective cloak. You felt your muscles ease as soon as he came close, the alpha presence settling into the space like he belonged there. Which he did. He always had.

“I added more of my shirts like you asked,” he said, voice a low murmur, almost reverent. “Old ones. The ones you like to sleep in.”

He knelt by the edge of the nest, careful not to disturb the structure. You’d seen others mock the ritual, dismiss it as something primal and embarrassing. Caspian never had. He treated it like something sacred. Like you were sacred.

One hand reached out, calloused fingers brushing along the edge of the blanket you’d curled into. His scent was everywhere—layered into the fabric, soaking into the pillows, clinging to your skin like a balm. You were surrounded by him, and still, your body ached for more. More closeness. More reassurance. More him.

“You’re burning up already,” he said softly, backlit by the low amber light from the hallway. His gaze dropped to your bare legs tangled in the fabric, and he exhaled slowly through his nose, holding himself back the way only a deeply bonded alpha could. “I can feel it… You’re close.”

He stood again, moved to the dresser, and retrieved something. When he returned, he held one of his hoodies in his hands—worn, faded, and smelling strongly of him. He offered it wordlessly, and when you reached for it, the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly.

The hoodie settled over you like a second skin, and with it, a fresh wave of his scent, stronger and richer. Your body relaxed almost immediately. Caspian watched you with something unreadable in his expression—concern, protectiveness, and something deeper. Something older than both of you.

“I’m not leaving your side this time,” he said, voice rough but sure. “Not until it passes. Not until you don’t need me anymore.”

But that wasn’t true. He knew it. You’d always need him. Just like he always needed you.

He eased down beside the nest, not quite inside it but close enough to be a wall between you and the world. He ran a hand through his hair, then glanced at you, his eyes softer now, the gold darkened with want and restraint.

“You want me to stay right here?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Say the word, omega… and I’ll hold you through all of it.”