Morning light filters softly through the curtains. The nest is a ruin around me – blankets tangled, pillows shifted, clothes scattered in a way that feels sacred rather than messy.
Sol is awake.
He’s watching me.
The moment our eyes meet, something in his expression changes – relief first, then something deeper that mirrors what I feel in my own chest.
“Morning,” he says quietly.
“Morning.” My voice is rough when I answer. “How long?”
Kai snorts from somewhere near my feet. “Eight days.”
I blink. “Eight?” Jeez.
“Eight,” Finn confirms from the armchair. “Possibly nine if we count the first partial day.”
My brain tries to process that.
“It was prolonged,” Koa says gently from beside me. He’s close enough that his thigh brushes the nest. “Likely because you were suppressed for so long. Your body had…catching up to do.”
Eight days.
Heat flares faintly in embarrassment – but it’s distant now, manageable.
“Was I…” I hesitate. “Terrible?”
Kai laughs outright. “You were feral.”
Sol gives him a look.
“Lovablyferal,” Kai corrects.
“You refused to eat,” Finn says calmly. “Multiple times.”
“You tried to bite me when I brought you water,” Sol adds, entirely serious.
I groan and bury my face briefly in the pillow. “I did not.”
“You absolutely did,” Kai replies. “And you were particularly sassy about it.”
“Sassy?” I repeat faintly.
“Sol and I got the worst of it,” Kai continues cheerfully. “You were a menace.”
Sol’s mouth curves faintly. “You growled at me.”
“I didnotgrowl.”
“You growled,” he confirms.
Koa’s hand settles gently at my shoulder. “You were a pussy cat for me, though.”
I freeze.
Kai points accusingly. “It’s true. The only one you’d listen to.”
Koa shrugs modestly, but there’s warmth in his eyes. “You’d calm when I touched you. You let me feed you.”