The Scent of Love

Chapter 15

Every two months, like clockwork, Sean shows up at Beth’s apartment. 

She almost chickens out, the first time. She’s so determined to make it through her heat alone, not to impose on him, that she forgets that texting works both ways. He sends her a message mere hours before her heat should hit, asking how close she is, when he should get there. She cracks instantly, begging him to come as soon as he can. 

He does, but it’s obvious that he’s frustrated by it. The guilt swallows her the moment her heat ends, even though, as usual, he insists on staying through her nesting. 

Two months fly by, and she feels a soft heat creeping up on her. Hopefully, it stays a soft heat this time, with her vaguely more emotionally stable— at least with her having a dependable alpha. Soft heats are so much better. Shorter, less intense, but with less downtime. At least she’ll skip the part where she wants bite marks on her back. 

Her head hurts when she texts Sean, which is pretty normal. It’s, thankfully, her day off to begin with, so she spends it waiting for Sean. No— she spends it cooking, preparing for the days ahead. Doing laundry. Cleaning her apartment. It’s halfway through the day before she realizes this is part of nesting, pre-heat nesting, which she’s… never really done before.

Odd. Anxiety, maybe?

Sean knocks twice before he comes in, even though he must know she leaves her door open for him by now. 

“Hey,” she says when he comes in, not looking up from the dishes she’s scrubbing.

“Hey—” He stops once the door is closed, and she can almost feel him frowning at her. “Are you doing dishes?”

“No,” Beth says flatly. “I’m running for president.”

“You hate doing dishes.” Why, oh why does he know these things about her? Does she really run her mouth that much during her heats? “Are you—”

“I think it’s nesting,” she says. Her head is still pounding, and her neck and shoulders feel like they’re simultaneously made of concrete and pure molten lava. “I’ve done nothing but clean all day.”

“I can tell.”

Her muscles wind even tighter, waiting for— something. Something she can’t place. She doesn’t know what she needs, and it’s— it’s terrifying. “Yeah,” she says, scrubbing dishes and stacking them in the drying rack like it’s her sole purpose for existing, “it’s great. I can’t look at my bed without wanting to rearrange everything on it, and no matter how many times I do, it’s not right. Plus the water is— well, water. Heat. You know.”

“Right.” Sean sets a grocery bag on the counter. The sight of it hypes up Beth’s anxiety all that much more. “So you’re doing… dishes.”

“Yeah.” Is her voice tight? It’s tight, isn’t it. Damn. “I had to do something, and they needed doing, so.” She waves a plate at him and then stacks it with the rest.

“You have a dishwasher,” Sean reminds her. His voice grows distant, with his footsteps. She assumes he’s going to go sit on her couch, maybe turn on the TV. They’ve never shared a soft heat, and this is… honestly, the most time they’ve spent together before her heat. Weird. 

“I know I have a dishwasher,” Beth snaps, already scrubbing a pan. “I wanted to wash them myself.” Despite the way the water on her skin make her want to scream. “It’s more time consuming this way, so I don’t have to focus on the fact that my head is about to explode, or how much I want to set my bed on fire, or—”

She doesn’t realize she’s rambling, like an i***t, to no one, until she hears her bedroom door open. Frowning, she lifts her head. Sean emerges with her comforter and a few pillows, drops them on the ground between her couch and TV, and then strolls, unhurried, back into her bedroom. 

Beth continues to frown at her bedroom door for a few more seconds, until the water actually causes her skin to burn, before turning back to her dishes. When she finishes, her hands red and sore, she looks over again, to find more pillows and blankets in a pile on her floor.

Her frown only gets deeper. A shimmer of irritation races over her skin as Sean comes back out, holding blankets she hasn’t used in months, and adds them to the pile. “What are you doing?”

“You said you were nesting,” he says by way of explanation. “Hang on; I’ll get your mattress, too.”

“Why?” She starts to follow him, but he doesn’t turn back to face her. 

“We can nest out there,” he said. “You said you can’t look at your bed without wanting to set it on fire, or something, so we’ll just move it.” 

Beth opens her mouth to argue— her mattress needs to stay where it is, thank you— only to end up stalling out when he lifts her mattress. 

God, his muscles. Bulging and bunching as he maneuvers her mattress off of her bed frame, out toward the living room. She just backs out of his way to let him through.

He props the mattress against the doorframe and glances at her. “You good?”

She nods mutely. Her glands are pounding— he’s got to be able to smell her heat, by now. It hasn’t even started up yet, not really, aside from her nesting. 

Sean gives her a quick once over before he continues. He carries her coffee table out of the way, all the way to the front of the apartment, his shoulders straining as he does so. Her entire body reacts, part of her relaxing, realizing that yes, yes, alpha is here, everything is okay. 

Once the mattress is firmly in the middle of her living room, he dusts off his hands and then turns to her, gesturing to the pile of bedding he’d brought out. “Alright, go wild.” 

Go wild? This poor man has no idea what nesting entails, does he?

It’s about precision. Everything has to be perfect for her alpha, for her heat. This is their safe place, meant to keep them safe and warm while she needs him, while he serves her. There’s nothing wild about it. 

Beth narrows her eyes at him, but starts toward the pile anyway. Except, the moment she reaches out to pick anything up, his hand catches hers and pulls it up. He ends up with both of her hands in his, frowning at how red they still are from the dishes. 

After several tense moments of staring, he surprises her. He kisses the back of each of her hands, and then gives them a gentle squeeze. “No more water, okay? Unless it’s to drink.”

Beth blinks. He hadn’t used his Alpha voice on her, but the command was there anyway, even if it was faint. Brow furrowed, she nods.

Ten minutes later, she has a nest. Sort of. 

Since he situated her mattress against the couch, that leaves only three sides open, sides which she barricades with pillows. Then several blankets go in, and come back out, and go back in. It’s okay— it will have to be okay, because the fever is building up, and her head is pounding worse than ever— but there’s still something about it that’s not quite right. Something missing. For a few minutes, she actually considers going to find the stuffed animals she has tucked away, just to see if they bring her any more comfort, but she’s not sure her dignity could stand Sean knowing she even has them, let alone having them in the nest. 

Beth chews on her nails as she regards the nest, and it’s— god, what is wrong with it? Why isn’t it right yet?

“Everything okay?” Sean asks. He’s been setting up food for her— the one and only routine he’s always had during this, feeding her— so he’s still in the kitchen. At least he can’t see her awful nest.

“I…” No, no, it’s not awful, it just needs something, something she can’t figure out. “I don’t…” She’s practically got her whole hand in her mouth, worrying. Her next attempt at speaking comes out as a whimper. 

“What’s wrong?” Sean abandons his task— maybe he finished; hell if she knows— and joins her in front of the nest, looking it over. “Is it ready? Do you want to lie down?”

Beth nods, then shakes her head, then growls, frustration swelling up inside her. 

Sean watches her with a serious expression, his eyes patient. “Is there something else you need?”

“I don’t know,” Beth grinds out. This is terrible. Terrible. She doesn’t know what to do. 

Tears well up in her eyes, tears that Sean sees and immediately stiffens at. God, she’s probably making him super uncomfortable with this whole, stupid nesting thing. She really needs to get it together, before her alpha leaves. And she needs to fix this stupid nest.

Sean reaches out, settling a calming hand on her head. “Do you want me to—”

“Is it okay?” Beth blurts the question out, her voice high and borderline hysterical. She can’t stop wringing her hands together, although at least that’s better than trying to chew them off at the wrist.

“What?” Sean glances at the nest, then back to her. “Yeah, it’s… fine.”

His words do absolutely nothing to ease her. Her hand wringing intensifies. “Are you sure? I can—”

“Yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “It’s perfectly— oh.”

Beth has no idea what kind of revelation he might be having, but she takes another look at the botched nest, and considers just throwing the whole thing out the window, piece by piece. 

“Omega.” That has her attention— she perks up like a cat when his arms come around her from behind, his lips grazing delicately over her neck gland. “It’s perfect.”

Oh.

Oh.

Beth feels the tension melt out of her body. Her alpha thinks their nest is perfect. It is perfect. It’s the most wonderful nest in the world, because it’s theirs. 

“Lay down, Omega,” Sean says, and Beth scrambles to comply. “I want to hold you until your heat starts.”

Yes, yes, that’s exactly what she needs. Beth buries herself in blankets, in her comforter, all faintly carrying his scent from when he’d brought them out for her. A perfect alpha, providing things for her, making sure she’s safe and comfortable. 

When he lays down beside her, she makes a determined attempt to position herself inside his skin, as close as the laws of physics will allow. Sean just settles with his arms around her, holding her tightly, whispering sweet nothings into her ear until her heat takes hold.

Soft heats, unlike hard heats, come with more frequent but less consuming waves of fever. Beth doesn’t let go of Sean for longer than a few minutes at a time, except for the twenty-ish minutes about halfway through, when he insists that they both eat something to keep their strength up. 

She frets while he cleans up, which is sort of new. Their nest is nice— it’s warm, it’s cozy, it’s comfortable— but it doesn’t smell nearly enough like him. Her scent is too strong compared to his, amidst the blankets and pillows, even after the hours and hours he’s spent marking her, filling her up, scenting her until she smells more like him than herself. 

If only she had something of his. A pillow, or maybe a hoodie, or—

Or his shirt.

Beth glances at the kitchen. Sean is focused on loading their dishes into her dishwasher. He may not even notice if she leans out of their nest for a few seconds. His shirt is just by the TV stand, within arms reach. 

She snags it before the dishwasher even closes, rolls onto her side in a ball, and cradles the shirt close to her face, inhaling deeply.

Ah. Thank god. 

There’s a beat between Sean’s footsteps stopping by their nest and him actually getting back into it with her. “Is that my shirt?”

Beth purrs. “Alpha.” Moments later, she feels herself getting pulled against his broad, firm chest. Her purring increases. 

This shirt is hers, now. She’s not giving it back. Not even after her heat. No, she’s going to keep this, so heavily scented by her Alpha, so that she can have his scent with her even when he’s not around. He’ll leave when this is over, and—

Oh, god. He’ll leave. And then what?

Beth’s entire brain riots. Sean— her Alpha will leave when this is over, and she won’t have anything but his leftover, fading scent. For two whole months. That’s it. Panic surges through her at the realization. 

This… god, she can’t keep doing this. It’s going to kill her.

Beth curls even more tightly around the shirt. She doesn’t want him to go. She needs him, needs him to stay and to keep her healthy and happy and safe, to do all the things a good alpha does, all the things he does for her when he’s here, but all the time, like he’s supposed to. 

She can feel her fever starting back up, the insistent ache in her core, but the thought of moving—

“Omega.” It comes across as a purr, and then she feels his hand near hers, feels the gentle tug on the shirt.

“No!” Beth wails, yanking the shirt back. He can’t take it away, he can’t leave— he’s going to take it and leave—

“Beth?” Sean sounds panicked. Then slightly more calmly, he gives the shirt another tug. “Come on, Sweetheart, it’s okay—”

“No—” And the next thing Beth knows, she bursts into tears. Not my alpha, you can’t take my alpha, please don’t leave alpha, I need you, please stay—

“Okay,” Sean soothes. He makes no further move to take his shirt back, but she feels his arms tighten around her again. “It’s okay, Omega.”

Her fever’s getting worse. She needs him, but she can’t— she can’t— 

She feels Sean move her, rolling her onto her other side, though at least he doesn’t try to take the shirt again. “Come here, Omega,” he says, and the push in them is the only thing that pulls her attention from his shirt. He pulls her until she straddles him, her legs parted over his hips. His hand slips through her hair, cradling her head, pressing it into his neck. 

Maybe it was his intention, but the scent of him— right at the source, so much more potent than that lingering in the shirt— draws her attention. Beth whimpers, turning toward it, finally releasing her hold on his shirt. 

“I’ve got you,” He purrs, already filling her. He bares his neck to her, more of his scent washing over her. She shoves the shirt away in favor of burying her face in his neck, mouth open, trying to consume him.

His breath catches, and his hips stutter between hers. She can taste his approval, his arousal. The cloud of panic in her head begins to diffuse, replaced by his soothing, comforting scent. 

“I’ve got you,” Sean says again, but his voice is strained. His other hand, the one that’s not keeping her firmly buried in his neck, presses into the small of her back, keeping her flush against him as he moves. She begins to move with him, the fever easing, clearing in the strange way of soft heats. Blazing through her body one moment, and calm the next. The fever breaks as Sean’s knot begins to swell, and Beth goes still, letting him do with her what he will.

“Are you okay?” He asks, several minutes later. 

Beth eyes his discarded shirt, laying inches from his shoulder. She has no idea what happened— she was perfectly content, and then out of nowhere… yeah. That was… weird. Maybe lowering her suppressants changes her soft heats, too. 

“Beth?”

God, she doesn’t want to try to explain this. The changes, the hormones, the emotions— none of it. 

Closing her eyes, she nods.