Page 1 of Scent of Sanctuary
Seraphina
Idragmytowela little tighter around me as I step out of the shower, tucking in the fluffy corner so that it stays and I can have my hands back. My hair drips cold trails down my shoulders, soaking the fabric as I pad into my nest, eager to crawl up under the blankets for a moment of silence.
But something is wrong. Everything looks fine, untouched, yet my nose twitches. A sourness hangs in the space, cutting through my natural scent, the descenter, and the aroma of freshly washed linen.
I edge closer, a little confused as I drop to my knees and sniff the top blanket. Lavender descenter clings to it from last night, but underneath there’s this weird tang. Sour milk maybe, or sweat gone stale.What the heck?
I grab a pillow and press it to my face. Same thing. It’s everywhere, seeping into the fabric. Fear shoots through me as I yank another pillow free, then a blanket, ripping them out of place. They scatter across the floor, a mess of soft edges and wrongness. I dig deeper, clawing at the layers. Nothing looks off. No stains, no tears. Just this scent that doesn’t belong.
A growl slips out, frustration blooming through my chest as I shove yet another cushion aside. Still no answer. Tears prick my eyes, a gasp falling from my lips and then another until it’s just this never-ending sob I can’t get rid of. What the hell is this? More pillows and blankets fly as I tear into my nest, refusing to let that scent take over my space.
But in the end, the scent is still there, and my nest is ruined. Panic continues to claw at me as I whine for an answer, rushing back to the bathroom to wash my hands. The sourness follows me, sticking to my fingers, mixing with my berry scent until I gag. I slam the faucet on, roughly scrubbing my hands under the water, soap foaming pink from how raw I rub them.
Tears spill down my cheeks at the thought of someone in my nest but this isn’t new. I’ve caught whiffs of this scent before, faint in the hall or near the door. But never in my nest. That’s mine. No one touches it. No one comes in here.
The repair guy’s been by once, maybe twice since Felix died. Creepy dude with a toolbox and a stare that lingered too long. But he never got past the living room. Only my brother’s best friends, Callum, Lyle, and Ambrose, step foot in this place now. Alphas who won’t let me fade away. They don’t go near my nest, though. They know better.
I scrub harder, nails digging into my palms, the water stinging the irritated skin. There’s no way the scent is still on me, just the phantom thought that someone could have been in here, a thought that brings nightmares back from my first heat. And I don’t want to relive those. There’s only one way to keep my sanity most days—lavender descenter to hide my scent from my brother’s friends who I’m desperately trying to keep at arm's length because what kind of life could we possibly live when I won’t step past the threshold of this place?
Shutting off the water, I drag my arms along the towel wrapped around me, my phone’s ring tearing me from my thoughts. I hiccup on a sob, swiping at my face as I stumble out to find it. It’s in the kitchen, buzzing next to a half-chopped onion and a knife I abandoned. I couldn’t decide what to cook, my head too foggy, my looming heat messing with my ability to think straight. The shower helped but the fog will only get worse over the next week or two which means the Alphas will worry and then I will try to fix it.
All of it’s a mess.
I snatch up my phone, see Callum’s name, and smack my cheeks quickly to chase off the tears. “Hey,” I say, voice wobbling more than I want.
“Fi,” His tone shifts, softening the moment the tone of my voice hits him. “What’s wrong?”
I swallow hard, shaking my head even though he can’t see. “Nothing. It’s fine.”
He pauses and I can picture him, brow creasing, those brown eyes narrowing but he doesn’t push. He never really does. “Lyle bring you ice cream last night?”
“No. He was busy. Late shift. It’s fine.” I lean against the counter, my towel slipping. I tug it up, my wet hair sticking to my neck. Callum’s going to figure it out, though. He likes to count how many times I say fine and then freak out about it.
“Sweetheart, we’ll be over in about an hour. You need anything? Ambrose is getting the groceries.”
They also treat me with more care than an unmated Omega should be given. I suspect it’s because my brother told them to take care of me before he died but sometimes I wonder if there’s more to it. I’m very capable of pressing a few buttons to order what I need but they always insist. I’m about to tell Callum that when he speaks again.
“He enjoys it. Likes picking stuff out for you.”
I snort, picturing Ambrose in the store. That tattooed firefighter with his mean mug, all sharp edges and rum-spice swagger, waltzing through aisles with a cart. “He lost a bet, didn’t he?” A giggle peels from my lips, a sound I don’t make as often anymore.
“There’s my sweet girl,” Callum says, his smile evident in his voice. It’s gentle, tugging at the knot in my chest.
My brother’s friends have been so damn sweet these past two years. Checking in, bringing groceries, piling on the couch with me for movie nights. Cuddles too, because every Omega needs that. I soak it up, greedy for it. They make sure I’m not alone, not crumbling in this apartment Felix left behind.
But it stings because I know I’m stunting them. They fuss over me, cook for me, hold me together instead of hunting for their own Omegas, their own packs. They should be out there, building families. Not babysitting me. I’m too selfish to cut them loose, though. I know they’re my scent matches. A deep, hearty mixture of oakmoss, eucalyptus amber, and spiced rum that hooks into my wild berry scent and won’t let go. We’re like the perfect mix deep in the forest. I feel it every time they’re close. And yet, if I can’t even leave this damn house, what good am I to them? A broken Omega who flinches at shadows.Useless.
Callum clears his throat on the phone, pulling me back. “Sweetheart, I lost you for a minute. Do you need anything from the store?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Great. I’ll grab those chocolate almonds then. Anything else?”
I scrunch my nose. He knows me too well. They all do. “No. I just need you to tell me what you want for your birthday dinner. I can’t choose.”
“Surprise me. Lyle’s pushing for burgers. Ambrose would eat anything if you made it.”
A soft, shaky laugh comes from me as I relax a little more. Talking to Callum always calms my nerves. “I don’t want burgers. How about that casserole dish? You liked that one, right?”
