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I keep my eyes on the mattress. Helping an omega build a nest for her first heat comes with possibilities I’m trying very hard not to assume. She may want us close or for us to be her partners during heat. She may want neither once it actually settles in. Whatever she asks for, the choice is hers.

Knowing that doesn’t stop my body from understanding exactly what it could mean if she chooses us. I’ve never shared a heat with an omega, never shared anything like that with anyone but Ezra. But with her? I want to.

Once the floor is clear enough, Ezra untangles the old white string lights from one of the boxes. Half the bulbs are dead, but enough still work to cast a soft amber line along the rafters when he plugs them in. I open the attic window another inch, then bring up two potted ferns and a trailing pothos from the back porch because Pepper said she wanted greenery.

She watches me set them near the mattress and goes soft all over. “You brought me plants.”

“You asked for cozy.”

Her smile turns slow and dazzled. “Theo Heron, you’re alarmingly good at this.”

That praise lands somewhere tender and unguarded. An omega’s nest is sacred and more than decoration. It’s a place an omega creates for safety, where scent, temperature, pressure, and trust can do their jobs. The fact that she’s trusting me with this makes my alpha want to preen.

Pepper leaves the trunk at last and begins to build. She takes the blue blanket from her supply bag, one of my black shirts from my laundry basket downstairs, one of Ezra’s soft gray hoodies, two pillows from the studio, and a crocheted throw she finds in the linen closet. Then she finds a stack of old cotton tablecloths in one of the attic trunks and drapes them from the low beams like a camp tent.

Ezra helps pin one corner while I hold the trunk steady.

“It needs to feel tucked in,” Pepper says, moving around us in her slippers and my shirt. “Not hidden exactly. Sheltered.”

Her notebook lies open on the mattress. Every few minutes, she adds a line.

Attic chosen due to water view, slope comfort, instinctive nesting response. Alpha carrying surprisingly effective for decision-making.

I catch the note while handing her a pillow.

She sees me reading and goes pink. “That one is private research.”

Ezra laughs so hard he almost drops the tablecloth.

When the nest is finally built, it looks improvised and perfect. The mattress sits beneath the window. Light twinkles softly overhead. Blankets and throws mound into a deep oval. White drapes hang from the beams and make the whole space feel like a hideaway built by very sentimental adults.

Pepper steps back to admire it and sways as the first strong wave hits her. I’m beside her before the notebook slips from her hand. She presses both palms to my chest, breathing shallowly, scent pouring off her in a richer pulse of vanilla and heat.

“Pepper.”

She looks up at me, dazed and glowing. “Oh, this is intense.”

Ezra comes close behind her. “Bad?”

“No.” Her eyes flutter. “My whole body feels awake. I want to crawl into the blankets, and I want Theo to sit down, and I want your mouth on my neck, and all of that seems bold for a woman who was just a teacher this morning.”

Ezra’s breath catches.

I ease her onto the mattress and sit behind her so she can lean against me. Ezra settles at her side. Pepper curls into my lap as though she has been looking for the space all day. Her notebook ends up beside her knee. My hands move over her arms slowly, working away the tightness in her shoulders and biceps. Ezra massages her calves and the arches of her feet through the fuzzy slippers until she sighs.

“This is very good for science,” she murmurs.

“Write that down later,” Ezra says.

Pepper tilts her head back to look at me. Her eyes are heavy and bright, her lips parted, her whole body scented with want. Then she presses her mouth to the side of my neck.

The first kiss is soft. The second drags. By the third, she’s breathing against my skin as though she could live on my scent alone. Her hands clutch my shirt. Her hips roll once against my thigh. A rough sound leaves my chest.

Pepper goes still. “Sorry.”

“No.” I keep one hand on her arm, steady and warm. “Tell me if you want help.”

Her lashes lift. “With the ache?”