Page 116 of Talk About… Dramay
He was speaking but I ignored it, mumbling incoherently against his neck where I’d buried my face.
“Roman’s here, too,” he said, turning me toward my second beta. Roman pulled me into his arms next, trying to offer comfort, but the chemical smell was so strong on him, it had me ripping at his shirt.
“Wrong. It’s wrong.” My voice was breaking, tears streaming down my heated cheeks.
“The smell of paint is bothering her,” someone clarified. Paint. That explained it. Maybe in my right mind I would have known that. Right now, all I knew was that I hated it.
“Take your shirt off,” Hudson ordered.
Roman ripped it off without a second thought. My beta was always giving me what I needed.
“I’m sorry, Stormy, but I did it for a reason. Can you focus for a second? I want you to see what we’ve done.”
“Someone crack a window,” Tate said.
That had Cameron moving over to the windows in the bedroom. The moment the cool, crisp air hit me, it cleared someof the fog. I blinked a couple of times, letting it settle me before finally giving Cameron, Roman, and Lane the attention they wanted.
Then my jaw dropped.
The room that I had only peeked inside of once, saw the white walls, and closed again, was wide open now.
But, it was no longer white.
Now the nest looked like something out of a fairy tale. An intricately drawn stained glass window had taken over the plain glass from before.
That explained the paint smell, and I would recognize Roman’s art style anywhere.
The black outlined flowers and vines filled with vibrant colors were beautiful. I could already imagine what it would look like with morning light streaming in, all warm and cozy.
Usually, omegas were light-sensitive during heat, and that may come to pass, but right now, it sounded like heaven.
The boring white blankets were covered by an array of brightly colored ones that matched the window—dark pink, vivid teal, yellow gold, and a couple more tossed around it—a rainbow of the dark-tone colors I loved.
A few hanging shelves had been placed around the nest walls. The antiques that Cameron had saved for me all those years ago were on display, along with a few new ones, including some we’d gathered today.
The nesting supplies I’d picked out were sprinkled in, but it was only a couple of things—some soft pillows that, apparently, I bought in just the right colors, along with some more that they’d added.
They’d even covered the white walls in long, sheer curtains that blocked out the white. In fact, I don’t think there was a single white thing in there.
It was all an intricately beautiful blend of colors, soft fabrics, sheer curtains, and art.
It was everything.
Before I knew it, I was ripping off my clothes, shivering once as the cool air hit my exposed skin, before I was walking in.
My steps didn’t falter and my head was held high. This wasn’t the nest I’d seen in my painful memories.
It was a new safe space my pack built just for me, with my own ideas coming to life. To make it even better, the nest smelled like them.
The open window had stolen some of the chemical scent, leaving my pack’s scents growing stronger by the second.
Now it just needed Hudson and Tate.
When I turned, they were all looking at me, hunger burning brightly in their eyes.
“Make it smell like you now,” I demanded, pointing at the room around me and the mattress I stood on.
“Yes, ma’am,” Tate grinned as he started stripping out of his own clothes and followed me inside.