Lilacs and Leather

Pack Saint Clair Book One

Thora Woods
 Copyright © 2021 Thora Woods

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not
intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN-13: 9798486844614
 To my husband
for teaching me what love without conditions can do
 Contents

Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Content Warning
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Want more?
Acknowledgement
About The Author
 Content Warning

This book contains material that is not suitable for all audiences. This is an adult romance, with
graphic descriptions of sex and fetish activities.

This story also contains, but is not limited to, descriptions of: physical, emotional, mental, and sexual
abuse; themes of polyamory, BDSM, and D/s relationships; religious trauma, homophobia, anxiety
and panic disorders.

Reader discretion is advised.

 One
Lydia

Nothing gets me out of bed in the morning quite like my wedding day alarm. A chorus of church bells
and cheering crowd noise fills my apartment, pulling me from sleep. I already feel the smile tugging at
the corners of my mouth as I untangle myself from the blankets and pillows I’d burrowed into during
the night. I shut off my alarm and climb to my feet, full of energy and ready to get to the shop and get
to work.
I walk the few paces across my studio and turn on the shower, leaving it to warm up. I cross to
the kitchenette to start the coffeemaker and toss some frozen waffles in the toaster. Once those are
cooking, I check the shower water—still cold—before going back to the toaster to wait for my
breakfast to finish. The window above my sink reveals a sky of dark blue touched with hints of pink
and orange.
My entire apartment is maybe ten paces from one wall to the other, the long way, but the small
space is comforting. There are only two doors, one to the bathroom and one to the hall, and three
narrow windows overlooking the alley that runs behind my building. It’s private, three floors up, and
easy to keep clean, even when I get lazy. My queen size bed takes up most of the space, and my nest, a
mass of soft blankets and fluffy pillows, covers most of the bed. This apartment may be small, but for
an omega like me, it’s cozy and just enough.
The building where I’m renting this homey sardine can caters exclusively to betas and
omegas, mostly for our safety. In a world full of alphas hungry for mates, having a place where I know
I can live without fear is a welcome relief. As betas make up most of the population, well over half,
they can exist among the other designations without needing to worry about things like heat cycles or
ruts. Omegas aren’t particularly rare, about as common as people with naturally red hair, but we are
scarce enough that alphas tend to trip over each other when they catch one unaware. Biology makes
people do crazy things, and I’ve seen enough in my quarter century of life to appreciate the luxury of a
building free of alphas, even if the apartments leave a lot to be desired.
The toaster pops, interrupting my thoughts, and I munch on the waffles as I go back to the
shower. Still cold. Fuck. This is the fourth time this month that the hot water has gone out. I check my
phone for the time. Double Fuck. I could skip the shower, but with the wedding… no, I’d rather not.
Cursing my cheap landlord with every breath, I strip down and jump under the frigid stream. I scrub
with the scent-masking body wash as fast as I can, hopping in and out of the water. I spend longer than
I’d like debating washing my hair. But my teeth chatter, and I decide against it. I will probably regret
this later, but I’ll make do with deodorant.
I throw my hair up in a tight bun so I can apply a heavy layer of the scent-masking cream on
my neck and wrists. An unbonded omega’s scent is powerful, with one whiff enough to set some
alphas into a rutting frenzy. I do my best to keep mine dampened with sprays, creams, and whatever
other goo I can get my hands on. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of not having to deal with
entitled alpha-holes. I spray my entire body with a mist of deodorant before getting dressed, and then
spray again over my clothes. Today I’m dressed in my venue uniform: black pants, comfortable black
shoes, and a white button down. The shirt is a size too big, but it was either baggy sleeves or gaping
buttons. The joys of being the proud owner of a generous bosom. I tuck my shirt in my pants to make it
just a little flattering but abandon the cause when the coffee maker beeps.
I check the time again, and I’m starting to run late. Pouring the coffee, along with a generous
heap of sugar, into a travel mug, I grab my bag, spray deodorant one last time, and head out the door.
Locking it behind me, I rush down the stairs to the parking garage next to my building. I wave at
Gerald, the middle-aged beta booth attendant, before I get in my car. My out-of-date silver sedan was
only a couple years off current model year when I got it… my senior year of high school. Eight years
and 200,000 miles later, she’s a little haggard but still chugging along just fine.
The commute to work is blessedly quick and traffic free, as it’s still pre-dawn, and I pull into
the historical district with little fuss. I’m finishing the last of my coffee as I park behind Grandmother
Wila’s Flower Shoppe.
Grandmother Wila’s is located in the fashionable Old Town neighborhood, which has been
undergoing renovations ever since I moved to Everton, Georgia four years ago. The eight-block
stretch of State Street houses all manner of high-end designer boutiques, furniture stores, and
restaurants. The St. Clair Foundation, run by one of the wealthiest families in the country, has been
restoring all the customer-facing storefronts to their former glory, along with plenty of other old
buildings in the city. Most of the retail spaces had been empty before the renovations started, with a
few old holdovers who refused to be moved. Wila herself likes to brag that she was here “before the
St. Clairs decided they wanted to polish this turd.”
I hurry up the wooden steps to the back door, hearing the classic rock filtering through the
building as I pull it open. I nod along to the beat as I hang up my bag, slipping my phone into my
pocket, and tie on my sky blue apron. Heading into the workroom, the song ends and a commercial for
a local bakery comes on.
“Good morning, Lydia.” Wila’s voice comes from behind a large centerpiece arrangement.
“Good morning, Gran. Where’s Gabby?” I ask, finding the event checklist on the table by the
door.
“Oh, you know. She’s probably dragging her happy ass out of bed. Or at least she better be!”
Wila steps around the table, the last part of her sentence directed as a shout toward the ceiling.
A muffled thump comes from above, along with a faint “Fine, I’m up. Jesus, keep your shirt
on.” I stifle a laugh as I begin working on the finishing touches of another centerpiece.
Wilhelmina Fitzgerald and her granddaughter, Gabby, were the first friends I ever made when
I moved to town. Wila has a timeless face, with dark, wrinkled skin and wise chocolate brown eyes
that could put her anywhere between 50 and 150. She’s a stern, take-no-shit beta, but there isn’t one
person she wouldn’t help, regardless of if they asked. She helped me get set up and on my feet, even
when I tried to stop her. And Gabby learned persistence at the knee of the master. Her friendship
wasn’t something I ever asked for, but I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve needed it over the last
few years.
Wila and I work in companionable silence for a while. Her scent of freshly turned earth
complements the floral perfume of the store, just as much as it hides mine. About an hour after I
arrive, I glance at the door as footsteps come from the stairs. Gabby yawns as she shuffles into the
room, coiling the collection of tiny braids of her black hair up on top of her head. Even exhausted,
Gabby is pretty, not a blemish marring the smooth skin of her dark face. Almost on autopilot, she finds
her way to my side, rubbing her nose into the crook of my neck for a moment before pulling away
again with a cough.
“I fucking hate that scent masking crap, babe,” she mutters, wrinkling her nose.
 I roll my eyes, focusing on my work. She cuddles up to my back again, leaning heavily. She’s
a handful of inches taller than me, with a body that I’m both simultaneously envious of and deeply
grateful I don’t have. Perfectly curved in all the right places, but the amount of work I know Gabby
puts in to keep her figure exhausts me just thinking about it. As a beta, Gabby is touchy-feely. She’s a
hugger, preferring an embrace to a handshake or high five, even with strangers. It was weird at first,
but after a few years, it was second nature to let her scent mark me. It didn’t hurt that her caramel-
candy-apple scent was strong enough to cover mine for a while, which helped in a pinch.
“I don’t pay you to cuddle,” Wila snaps from across the room.
“You don’t pay me at all, Gran,” Gabby says, her voice muffled by my neck.
“Yes, I do. You just spend it faster than it comes in,” Wila snipes back.
“Just give me a few more minutes. Let the coffee kick in,” Gabby whines.
“Get to work. Now.” Wila doesn’t have the alpha bark, but her tone still makes my spine
straighten.
Gabby whines one last time, and then moves off to actually help with the wedding flowers.
We did most of the work yesterday, leaving the flowers in the fridges overnight. Today is about
details and prepping for transport. It isn’t a long drive to the venue, but Wila takes no chances with
her work. Time passes quickly, and before I know it, the truck is loaded and I’m squashed between
Wila and Gabby in the cab.
The drive over to the venue, Wickland House, is slow and steady. It’s prime commuting time
by this point in the morning, and we sing along to the radio as we trudge through gridlock. The trees
that line some of the streets are just starting to bud and bloom, bringing color back to the otherwise
drab cityscape. March is the perfect time of year in this part of the country: warm enough that the rain
doesn’t chill you to the bone but still cool enough for the humidity to not be oppressive. It's a bit of a
slow period for retail business, between Valentine’s Day and Easter, but the beginning of the wedding
season more than makes up for it.
Soon enough, our destination comes into view. It’s another St. Clair Foundation restoration
project, and I remember the hazardous ruin that had once stood on the edge of the city when I first
moved. Now, the art déco building shines in the morning sun. Calling the hotel a “house” sort of feels
like calling Times Square “just an intersection.” Smooth stone, stained glass windows, and wrought-
iron railings make up the front facade of the ten-story building, a black stone awning covering the
front door and valet station. I don’t get to study any more of the details, as we’re directed behind the
building to the loading dock.
By some minor miracle, we manage to arrive before the other vendors. We empty the truck
with practiced efficiency, setting the flowers just inside the doors, to be moved into place later. By
the time we’re done, I’m a sweaty mess and other vendors have arrived to unload their contributions
to the event. I’m breathing through my mouth to avoid the growing cacophony of scents that are piling
up. My hair, loosened by Gabby’s earlier cuddling, is falling out of my bun, and I feel it sticking to my
face and neck. But Wila doesn’t give me enough time to stop to fix it.
As we load up a cart with centerpieces to take to the ballroom, I feel eyes on my back. A
subtle glance over my shoulder, and I see a man as plain and uninspiring as his stale coffee scent
openly gawking at me. My eyes connect with his dull brown ones, and I stiffen. He’s only a beta, but
his coworker sees him staring, and looks, too. I’ve let my scent linger for too long, so I turn on my
heel before either of them decides to do more than ogle.
Carrying a smaller arrangement, I rush after Wila toward the ballroom. The hallways sport
cream-colored walls, accenting the mirror-finish dark wood floors and the bright red carpet running
down their centers. Small chandeliers hang from the tall ceilings, the light glinting off the gold leaf
accents. The hallway opens up into the most luxurious space I’ve ever had the pleasure of being in.
The black-and-white checked marble floors contrast with the champagne-colored walls. Towering
pillars support sweeping arches, white furniture stationed tastefully throughout the space. Hanging
above, an enormous crystal chandelier casts a warm glow over everything. My pace slows to a walk,
and I’m so absorbed in my surroundings that I don’t notice the scent cloud until it hits me like a brick
wall.
My knees buckle, my eyes fall closed, and I suck in a deep breath on instinct alone. The scent
is layered, beautiful and decadent. Whiskey, good whiskey. Leather. Old books. And… warm. I pull
in another deep breath, trying to find a better word than “warm,” but that’s all my mind can come up
with. My thighs clench together as I exhale, a tiny whimper escaping my parted lips. My head turns,
following my nose as I search for the source. Every warning I’ve ever been given flies from my head,
instinct taking over. I need that scent, want to curl up in it, drown in it.
I open my eyes, and I’ve turned toward the entrance, the scent blowing in on the gentle breeze
that comes whenever someone opens the door. Almost like a magnet, my eyes are pulled toward a
man standing near the entrance, and he’s also staring back at me. He is easily the most striking man
I’ve ever laid eyes on. Even with a lobby between us, I can tell he’s tall, head and shoulders above
my five foot five. His golden blond hair is slicked back, longer on the top with close cut sides. His
perfectly trimmed facial hair highlights a powerful jaw and perfect lips. He’s dressed in a well-
tailored gray suit, but I gather little more than that, as my eyes are drawn back up to his remarkably
blue gaze.
A door opens behind him, and another flood of his scent washes over me. My mouth goes dry
while other parts of me, parts much lower, get very wet. His scent is like curling up in a library
armchair, basking in the summer sun. I want to be surrounded by it. I want it to cover every inch of my
skin. My knees buckle again as the insane urge to fall to the floor and present myself crashes over me.
But with that urge comes a wave of ice water through my veins. My throat constricts and my
breathing becomes shallow. My hands are shaking, and cold sweat runs down my spine.
Alpha.
He advances a step toward me, and I find control of my feet at last. There’s another man
standing next to him, and traces of his scent float toward me. Citrus, grass? I don’t stick around to find
out. I turn on my heel, striding across the lobby in the ballroom’s direction. My heart thumps a wild,
frantic rhythm in my chest, and I can hardly get my ribs to expand enough to take a full breath. My skin
zings as my mind races into fight or flight, goosebumps rising up and down my arms. I keep my head
down, cursing under my breath with every scurrying step away from that intoxicating alpha.
I’m sure that Wila would be on my case for gawking again, because it feels like I’ve spent
hours in that lobby, but she’s only just finishing unloading the cart and is turning back toward the door.
Her brow furrows as she takes me in, but I can hardly think around the sound of my heartbeat rushing
in my ears. My head is spinning, my vision blurring. I set down the centerpiece before I drop it and
swallow hard. I shake out my hands, trying to stop the trembling, my eyes flying around the room.
We’re not alone, and the hotel staff is taking notice of my behavior.
“Lydia?”
Wila’s soft voice comes from much closer than I’m prepared for. I jump as I realize she’s
moved to stand in front of me. She takes my hands in hers, the wrinkles around her dark eyes deep in
concern. Eyes so different from the pale, almost luminescent blue of that alpha—no. I shake my head,
trying to dislodge him from my thoughts. More of my hair shakes loose from my bun and falls around
my face. My eyes fly around the room, and more of the hotel staff have stopped to stare. I look over
my shoulder, hair whipping around my head. What if he follows me here? He can’t come near me. Not
an alpha with a scent that makes my knees jelly and brain short circuit. I can’t let another alpha make
me lose myself. Not again. I need to get out. He can’t find me. He can’t—
“Stop, Lydia. Go outside. Sit in the truck,” Wila says softly, but firmly, squeezing my hands.
My thoughts come to a screeching halt, my spine straightening. I look at her again, and the firm
set of her brow, eyes hard as chips of stone, set my body into motion. Nodding, I rush out of the room
to obey. I don’t even spare a glance as I rush through the lobby again, holding my breath until I’m
outside again. Gabby has just finished parking the truck in the lot behind the building and is heading
back. She stops short as she notices me approaching and follows me as I throw open the passenger
side door and scramble up into the cab of the truck.
I curl my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms tight around them and burying my face in my
knees. I count the seconds as I try to take slow inhales through my nose and exhale through my mouth.
Five seconds in, seven seconds out. Five seconds in, seven seconds out.
The driver’s side door opens, and caramel candy apple fills the cab. Arms wrap around my
shoulders, pulling me to lean on a warm chest. Gabby nuzzles her cheek against the top of my head,
but she doesn’t speak. She brushes a hand up and down my spine, and I relax under the touch. Gabby
pulls my bun loose and runs her fingers through the strands, working out the knots.
“You didn’t wash your hair this morning,” she whispers, but I still jump.
I shake my head. “Hot water was out,” I grumble.
Gabby lets out a sharp sigh. “Babe, you should have showered at my place.”
She gently turns me and starts working my hair into a tight French braid. I just shrug in
response. She lets out her signature Sigh of the Long Suffering, working in silence for another
moment.
“He must have been something, if his scent is anything to go by,” Gabby comments.
I stiffen briefly before relaxing again. “It just came out of nowhere. I should have been more
prepared. It’s not like I’ve never scented an alpha before.”
“I guess. But…” Gabby takes a deep breath before going on. “I’m only getting the leftovers,
and it’s intense. Like panty-soaking, mouth-watering intense.”
The longing in her voice makes me turn to look at her. A flood of her scent washes over me,
tinged with a hint of spicy cinnamon. She cocks an eyebrow at me, daring me to deny it. But I can’t.
Because she’s right. Whoever that alpha was, “intense” is the exact word to describe him and his
otherworldly blue eyes. I roll my eyes, and she giggles a little before finishing up my braid.
“Feel better?” she asks, rubbing my shoulders.
I nod, taking another deep breath. She gives my shoulders another squeeze before moving back
and opening the driver’s door. I climb out and she locks up before we walk back toward Wickland
House.
“But, like, for real, Lyd. Was he, like, regular hot, or, like ‘Fires of Mount Doom’ hot?” she
asks, the words falling out in a rush.
I roll my eyes again with a smile. “Surface of the sun hot,” I answer.
Because yes, his scent was overwhelming, but if he weren’t an alpha, I would have been
drooling just as much as Gabby. She squeals but is forced to let it go for now as Wila is standing at
the dock, and we get back to work. Thankfully, the mysterious alpha seems to have left the hotel, and
his scent has dissipated by the time we make it back to the lobby. It doesn’t stop Gabby from trying to
catch another whiff, though.
And, even against my better judgement, I do, too.
 Two
Rhett

Mateo is late. Again.

Standing in the lobby of Wickland House, I check my phone for what feels like the hundredth
time this hour. I should have known better than to ask him to pick me up. I should have just agreed to
meet him, like always. But when he offered to drive, I couldn’t say no.
I look around, trying to see if Lucas is here yet. But he knows better than me. 8 AM in regular
time is 9 AM in Mateo time. When I’d left, he was just rolling out of bed, complaining loudly about
how awful morning people are. I let the passive aggression slide, at least for the moment.
Cursing under my breath, I unlock my phone and pull up my message thread, fingers flying
over the keys as I type.

Me: Have you heard from Mat? He’s late.

I pace around for a moment, scanning the arches and ceiling, inspecting the structure for
weaknesses. There aren’t any, but habits are hard to break. My phone buzzes in my hand with a reply.

Luc: Mateo, late? I’m shocked. SHOCKED.

Luc: No, haven’t heard anything. I’ll be down in a few, lobby?
Me: Yes. Please hurry. Lex is going to kill us if we throw off her schedule.
Luc: Yes, sir.

I growl low in my chest at the exchange. My beta always knows how to soothe my nerves.
I step out of the way of a group entering the building, smiling lightly at the excited energy
radiating off them. They are wearing similar black shirts, with text across the back of the shoulders.
The shirt of the man in the center of the group proclaims him as the groom, and the rest are his “groom
crew.” Wedding season is upon us, it seems. I fire a quick message to the property manager group
chat, asking for reports on the landscaping of the other venues my pack owns. I’m sure Lex has it
handled, but double checking is my job.
I look at the time again after sending the messages. Forty-two minutes late. Over average,
even for Mateo. Still doesn’t come close to his personal record—two hours. If that man shows up on
time to his own funeral, Hell will freeze over. I open my messages again.

Me: Where are you? We agreed on eight.

The reply comes fast, which was a slight comfort. At least he’s awake.

Mateo: I’m around the corner. Untwist your panties.

Me: Lex is going to crucify you if you throw off her schedule.
Mateo: She can certainly try ;-)
 I scoff and roll my eyes. “Around the corner” could mean anywhere between Mateo’s bed and
the front curb. He might be willing to provoke Lex, but I sure as shit wasn’t.

Me: Sorry, Lex. Mateo is running exceptionally late. We’ll be there as soon as we can.
Lex: I counted on it. I’ve only just finished dressing.
Me: And you didn’t send me any progress photos? You wound me.
Lex: Next time, stay home with me, and you can oversee the entire operation. But alas, you
needed to entertain our wayward beta.
Me: You are the one who told me, and I quote, “if you are going to keep making him scream
all night, do it somewhere else.”
Lex: A decision I stand behind, my love. I will be getting our breakfast order started shortly.
Any cravings?
Me: Are you on the menu?
Lex: Not for breakfast. Maybe for lunch.

I’m about to type my reply when a passing breeze stirs from across the lobby, bringing a scent
to my nose that has my spine straightening and my cock hardening.
I turn my head, inhaling deep as I scan for the source of that scent. Floral, but soft. Lilacs?
Lavender? But then it’s sweet, honey and vanilla. My eyes find a woman standing across the lobby,
holding an intricate floral arrangement. Her eyes are closed, chin tipped up slightly. Her toffee-
colored hair is pulled up in a bun, but pieces have fallen out and stick to her delicate throat, and my
teeth snap together as I imagine sinking them into her flesh. I rake my gaze down from her face to the
unflattering shirt that’s doing very little to hide her incredible breasts, over the sky blue apron pulled
around a curvy stomach, down to a spectacular ass, and thick thighs I want to get lost between. She’s
not tall, and her curvy body is perfectly proportioned, and I nearly lose myself in imagining how her
soft flesh would feel under my fingers.
Her head turns towards me, and my next inhale catches in my throat as her eyes open and lock
with mine. Green, so verdant and liquid. Earth and rain carry on the next inhale. Her scent sends me
back to my childhood in New England, memories of running among the flowering bushes during those
first gloriously warm days after the snow melted for good fill my heart with warmth. I lurch a step
forward, my body wanting to go to her before my mind can catch up.
Her eyes widen at my motion, and burnt-sugar scented fear slices through the air, making the
hair on the back of my neck rise. My fists clench and I feel the growl in my chest. I need to go to her,
wrap her scent around me until I can’t tell up from down. Protect. Protect. Protect. Claim. Mine.
Omega.
My thoughts slam to a halt at that last. What am I doing? She’s a stranger, and I practically
went feral at just one wisp of her scent. I force my body to relax, trying to pull my thoughts back. I
take another step, and she stiffens. Before I can react, she’s bolting down the hallway toward the
ballroom. I hesitate. What is wrong with me? I’m not that alpha, chasing down any omega that crosses
my path, not even ones that smell as wonderful as that little flower. Could I approach her without
looking like a creep? Hi, I smelled you from across the room, and I can’t let you get away without
knowing your name. No, that’s somehow worse than just staring. But I had to know her, just to put a
name to her face.
A hand on my shoulder yanks me from my thoughts.
“Told you I was—”
 The growl is out of my throat before I can catch it, instinct taking over. I whip around to face
the owner, the scent of lemonade and freshly cut grass hitting me a second later.
“What the fuck, Rhett?” Mateo snaps, pulling his hand back.
I look back toward where the omega had been, but she was gone, and I had no clue where to
look for her. My shoulders slump, and I take a deep breath. Only a trace of that garden scent remains,
but it’s tainted by something plastic-y, almost like Play-Doh. I wrinkle my nose and shake my head,
turning back to Mateo. His arms are crossed over his chest, a glare leveled at me. His nostrils flare,
and then his body goes slack. He smells her, too. He swings his head around, trying to find her.
“Holy shit, who is that?” he mutters under his breath.
I look back toward the ballroom, but the omega hasn’t come out.
“She’s gone.” I sigh, unable to keep the disappointment from my tone.
“Damn. Would’ve liked to see the face to match that scent,” Mateo says wistfully.
I swallow another growl, guilt creeping in. Five seconds and one glance from that omega has
me acting like a possessive ass. And, based on that fear I caught, I’d do well to curb those urges if I
ever see her again. And I want to. I need to.
Mateo looks me over, smirking. “Thought Lucas would have worn you out enough last night,”
he says.
I look down and realize I’m still hard. Like a fucking teenager. I adjust myself as subtly as I
can, Mateo outright laughing in my face.
“What about Lucas last night?” a familiar voice calls from behind me.
My beta is exiting the bank of elevators nearby, his long legs eating up the distance as he trots
toward us. He shakes his dark, still damp bangs from his cool gray eyes, smirking at me.
“Just saying that you didn’t quite get the job done if Rhett can get it up over a stranger,” Mateo
calls, turning and walking toward the doors.
“Prick,” I shoot back.
“You didn’t seem unsatisfied when you left earlier,” Lucas says lowly, his tone heating at the
unspoken challenge.
“He’s just bitter because he didn’t get to see the omega,” I say, trying to keep my voice level.
Even when every protective instinct in me wants to rip into Mateo for insulting my beta.
We push through the door of Wickland House and find Mateo’s SUV parked haphazardly on
the curb in the valet lane. I open the front passenger door as Lucas gets in the back. Mateo takes off
toward the main road, pulling smoothly into the flow of traffic.
“There was an omega? I didn’t scent anything on my way in,” Lucas asks casually.
“She was gone by the time I got there, Luc. Only Rhett got to see her, and he isn’t sharing with
the class,” Mateo says, ending in a sing-song voice.
I shrug. “Not much to tell.” I don’t know why I’m not telling them, but I can’t find the words to
describe her. And I’m finding I don’t want to, at least not yet.
“Bull. Shit. Her scent made even my cock sit up and take notice,” Mateo scoffs.
“Your cock will get hard for anything with a pulse, Mat. It’s not exactly a hard bar to clear,”
Lucas replies coolly.
I snort as Mateo growls, but he doesn’t deny it. Mateo has always been a flirt, not
distinguishing between genders. “Love is love, and I’m not in the business of denying myself based on
social constructs,” he’s fond of saying. His natural charisma, alpha status, and trusting heart bring all
manner of trouble to his door, but it’s his life. I just buy the ice cream when he comes crawling back
to the pack, broken pieces of his heart in his hands.
 “Not the point, Luc,” Mateo throws over his shoulder.
Mateo signals and turns into the driveway of Bright Hills Estate, parking under the carport
alongside Lex’s silver sedan. We’re meeting to discuss the next round of expansions to the property,
which include cabins for guests and a potential microbrewery. We pile out and enter through the
kitchen door, throwing a quick greeting to Jeanie, one of the cooks on staff here. She smiles and
continues to wash the dishes.
“Miss Alexandra is in the sitting room,” she calls to us as we pass through.
Following her directions, we find Lex in her favorite chair by the window, a breakfast tray on
the table next to her. Her dark hair is pulled back in a graceful twist, hazel eyes scanning back and
forth as she reviews a document on her tablet. At the sound of our approach, she looks up and smirks.
“So, His Highness graced us with his presence after all,” she says indifferently.
I chuckle as Mateo sputters his indignation. After leaning down to kiss her cheek, I place a
muffin on a napkin before settling in a chair nearby. Mateo and Lex trade playful barbs, Lucas adding
a quip now and then, but I quickly lose track of the conversation. There’s a lilac tree outside the
window behind Lex, and I find my mind pulled back to that omega at Wickland House. Who was she?
I didn’t recognize her as an employee, especially not dressed in a blue apron. Was she staying at the
hotel as a guest? Or was she there for an event?
“Lex, do we keep track of the vendors who work weddings at Wickland House?” I ask, talking
over Mateo.
The silence is heavy as I look her in the eye. I try to keep my face disinterested, even as Lex’s
brow creases in the center.
“Not specifically, unless there’s a security reason to do so,” Lex says slowly, leaning back in
her chair as she considers me.
“But do we use an approved list, like we do at The Valencia?” I ask, the little hopeful bubble
in my chest deflating.
“Why?” Lex’s question is more of a statement, ice creeping in.
“Is this about that omega from earlier?” Mateo asks.
I can hear the smirk in his question, but I refuse to look away from Lex. Her frown deepens,
eyes hardening to a glare.
“What omega?” she asks, words clipped.
I shrug. “I just caught her scent from across the room. But, for your information, Mat, it isn’t
about that. A client asked if I knew any good bakeries, as they want to do a show cake for an opening.
We don’t do those in house, so I wanted to pass along business to a partner.”
I concentrate on keeping my scent even and my expression bland. Lying to the pack, lying to
Lex, would only be worth it if this worked.
Lex examines me for another long, silent moment. Then she turns back to her breakfast,
picking up her tablet.
“I’ll email you the vendor PDF,” she says, taking another bite of scone.
I smile and take a bite of my pastry. A gamble, but one I hope will pay off. Or at least, won’t
cost me.
Little flower, I will see you again. Even just one more time.
 Three
Lydia

I roll over in bed, breathing deep. He’s here, the blond alpha. His heady whiskey scent draws me
in, and I close my eyes, reaching for him blindly. My hands find his chest, warm and hard beneath
my fingers. Large hands trail from my hips, skating feather light over my ribs, brushing over my
breasts and back down. I shiver and arch into his touch, a little moan escaping my parted lips.
One of his legs slips between mine, and I gasp as his thigh comes in contact with my bare
sex. His hands press into the soft flesh of my hips, dragging me close. My entire body tingles with
awareness, my nipples hard and aching. I rock on his muscled thigh, the warmth of his fingers
spreading across my lower belly. My core grows molten with liquid heat until it drips from me,
drenching his skin with my essence. Our breathing is heavy, each exhale tasting like warmth and
intoxicating desire on the back of my tongue. My hands scrape up his chest to his neck, my fingers
sliding into his soft hair. My lips brush the column of his throat, his beard scraping deliciously
along my face as I seek his lips.
The alpha pulls me closer to his chest, his face coming to my neck as he inhales deeply.
“So sweet, my petal. My omega.”
That voice. His voice.
My eyes fly open, and I pull back. Blue eyes have been replaced by muddy brown, golden
hair by rusty red. His thin mouth is twisted into a sneer, a cruel chuckle echoing around my head. I
struggle to pull away, turning in his grip, trying to escape. A hand fists in my hair, the other
between my shoulder blades. The touch is cold, freezing and burning as I’m pushed onto my
stomach, held down. I can’t breathe, the weight on my back pressing me down, down, down. I can
smell blood, the salt of my tears driving out whiskey and all warmth until I’m drowning in ice-cold
fear. Sharp pain in my shoulder drags a scream from my throat. Ripping, shredding pain. The scent
of tobacco smoke and clay and bitter almonds clogs my throat, choking me.
“My omega. Forever.”

I wake from the dream with a shout, my back hitting the floor as I scramble out of bed. My
heart slams against my ribs, trying to break from its prison and flee the dream. My shoulder aches and
I lie on the cool floor, gulping down air to clear my head.
It didn’t take. They said it didn’t take. It didn’t take. It didn’t take.
I repeat the phrase over and over, counting my breaths. I stare up at the ceiling, syncing my
breathing to the ticking clock on the kitchenette wall. After several minutes, my body relaxes as it
realizes there’s no threat. I become aware enough of my surroundings to realize that it’s still a few
hours before I normally wake up. The wedding at Wickland House was yesterday, and Grandmother
Wila’s is closed on Sundays, and I curse myself for not being able to sleep in on my day off.
Resigned to being awake, I peel myself off the floor and shuffle to the kitchenette and start my
coffee. I check my phone and see I received a couple of messages overnight.

Jason: Hey. When you’ve got a sec, can you call me?
 Jason: Not an emergency, just would rather not text this
Jason: But please call when you get these. Please.

Way to be cryptic, Jace. I roll my eyes at my brother’s texts. He’s younger than me by less
than a full year and has always been a worry wart. I’m sure he just wants to catch up, but reading the
messages after waking up from my nightmare has me on edge.
It’s still too early for any sane human to be awake, so I take my sugar-with-added-coffee back
to bed. I pull up a streaming service, settling in to watch a few episodes of Say Yes to the Dress
while I wake up. Trash reality TV has always been my go-to guilty pleasure. A few episodes later,
I’m interrupted as my phone rings, Jason’s photo taking over the screen. We share the same eye color,
but his hair is a closer match to our father’s platinum blond.
“I didn’t expect you to be up so early, Jace,” I say by way of greeting after I hit the answer
button.
“Hey, Lydi. I could say the same to you. I thought I’d be waking you up for sure,” he says, his
deep voice rumbling through the speakers.
“Yeah, well, I had a nightmare and couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“Everything okay?”
I hesitate, biting my bottom lip. “Yeah,” I reply, drawing the word out a little.
“Was it about Dar-”
“Yes. I’m fine, Jason,” I snap, tone darkening.
“Okay, geez. Don’t bite my head off, just checking,” Jason says lightly.
There are a few moments of silence, and I hear his coffee machine kicking on.
“So, um, I’m not calling just to talk about your dreams,” he starts, picking his words carefully.
“Oh?” I say neutrally.
“Grandpa Fletcher passed yesterday.”
“Oh.”
I frown, and my stomach twists a little with guilt. I wasn’t super close with my mother’s
father, but I knew he had been in and out of the hospital for his colon cancer over the last few years. I
didn’t realize he’d taken that big of a turn, though.
“How’s Mom holding up?” I ask cautiously.
“Oh, you know. The pity party is in full swing, and she’s milking this for all it’s worth.”
I can practically hear his eyes rolling across the line, and a smirk tugs at my lips. Of course,
this had to be about her. Everything always was.
“So should I be bracing for impact or….?” I trail off.
“Nah, she deleted your number the last time y’all had it out, and she is too proud to ask anyone
for it again,” Jason says with an ironic laugh.
I laugh, too, remembering that incredible blow out. She had said she was finally done with my
“ungrateful, disrespectful behavior” and I shouldn’t ever contact her again. That was less than a year
ago, and three years after I had moved out and limited my contact to the absolute minimum.
“That’s good,” I hum, taking another sip of my coffee.
“Dad, though…” Jason mumbles.
My throat goes dry. “What about him?” I rasp.
Jason sighs heavily, going quiet for a moment before answering. “He wants us all there. He’s
even pulling rank on Adam to get him home for the funeral.”
Adam, the second oldest of my siblings, joined the military straight out of high school, and has
moved around every few years with his training and assignments. If my father is pulling alpha rank to
get him home…
“But he doesn’t know how to contact me, right?” I ask frantically.
Jason sighs again. “Why do you think I’m calling at the ass crack of dawn?”
I swallow against the lump in my throat, clutching my mug tighter to stop my hands from
shaking. Cold sweat forms on my palms.
“I can’t, Jace. I just can’t,” I say, no louder than a whisper.
“Of fucking course, you can’t, Lydia. I’m not asking you to,” Jason says quickly.
“Then why—”
“I told him I’d call and pass the message that they set the funeral for this Wednesday. And I’m
telling you I’m going to report back that your car has crapped out again and you can’t make the drive,”
Jason says, his tone even and pointed.
“How unfortunate for me. I’ll just have to send some flowers and my condolences,” I say,
relief sweeping my system.
Jason chuckles. “I’m sure Mom will really appreciate that. Make sure you include peonies.”
I roll my eyes. Grandpa Fletcher was allergic to the flower, but my mother adores them.
“Of course. Wouldn’t dream of forgetting that.”
The line goes quiet for a few moments, and I can hear a spoon stirring in a coffee cup. I take
another sip of my coffee.
“Is everything really okay with you, Lydi?” he asks, soft and hesitant.
I soften a little at the genuine concern in his voice. “Yeah, I just had a long day yesterday.
Worked a big, expensive wedding at a super swanky hotel. I guess the stress bled over into my sleep,”
I admit, tracing a hairline crack in my mug with a finger.
“Hobnobbing it with the other half, I see,” Jace snorts.
“Yeah, I wish. I was there long enough to set up, and then we were rushed to a back room, out
of sight until teardown time. They did give us some of the leftover catering, which was out of this
world,” I say, finishing my coffee.
Jason laughs and then goes quiet again. I wait, giving him space. I hear a faint beep from his
side.
“Speak of the devil. I’ve got to go. It’s Dad,” Jason sighs.
“Okay. Thanks for the call, Jace. Love you,” I say, smiling.
“Love you, too, Lydi. Talk again soon.”
I disconnect the call, looking at the screen until it goes black. I sigh and tilt my head back,
resting it against the wall. Jason has pulled me out of the line of fire once again. Maybe one day I’ll
stop jumping in front of loaded guns. Or maybe one day my family will stop pointing them at me.
 Four
Lydia

It’s been a week and a half since my run in with that blond alpha at Wickland House, and I wake from
yet another dream involving his hands and mouth on me. Thoroughly flushed and covered in a thin
sheen of sweat, my alarm pulls me from sleep and away from the edge of release. I groan and stretch,
feeling my thighs slick with arousal and the damp pillow tucked between them. I toss it away,
chastising myself. I am an adult, not a horny, pillow-humping teenager. I grab my phone from beside
the bed and spit a particularly colorful profanity as I see the date. My heat.
As I set about my morning routine, I pull the orange bottle of heat suppressants from the
bathroom cabinet. It’s a little early in my cycle to be feeling so… hot and bothered, but based on these
dreams, I’d rather be safe than sorry. I swallow the pills and take extra care to thoroughly cover my
hair and body with the scent-masking products before and after getting dressed. It takes a full day for
the suppressants to work at their max strength, and I have to cover the store today while Gabby and
Wila make a delivery. It would only be a few hours near closing, but I’m not taking any chances that
an alpha would come in and realize I’m near my heat.
Can’t say I would mind one particular alpha throwing me over his shoulder and taking me
back to—
NOPE.
I shake my head, clearing it of traitorous thoughts. I don’t even know his name. Why would I
trust him enough to spend my heat with him? I shudder at the thought. Even my milder cycles could
cause me to go absolutely crazy with need. The mere idea of spending that time with a stranger, of
being intimate with an alpha who could press his advantage when I had next to no control over my
body and mind is enough to cool any lingering desire from my dreams.
I dress casually, jeans and a tank top covered by a zip up hoodie. Winter is hanging on for
dear life, and it’s been cool enough that even the climate control of the shop wouldn’t be enough to
keep me warm all day. I throw my scent-masking spray in my bag before heading out with my coffee
in hand.

∞∞∞
“Make sure you restock the potting soil display before you lock up for the night,” Wila
commands, pulling her silver hair up into a bun.
“Yes, Gran. Restock the potting soil, set up the seed packet display, organize the terra-cotta
pots. Got it,” I recite back.
“We should be back before close, but just in case—”
“Lower the awning so it doesn’t get more damaged,” I drone, cutting her off.
Wila grunts approvingly, giving me a curt nod. “If anything happens, call Carlos next door.”
“Gran, we’re going to be late!” Gabby shouts from the back door.
 Wila gives me another assessing look before smiling slightly. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t
do,” she warns.
“Right. Burn down the shop, take the cash, go on the lam. Understood,” I say with mock
seriousness.
“Atta girl,” Wila says, laughing as she finally heads out the door.
I sigh as quiet settles over the shop. There’s some traffic noise outside, and the classic rock
radio station is playing in the workroom, but I can’t help but relax more fully now that I’m alone. I go
back and turn up the music a little as I get started on my tasks. If it stays slow, I could even close a
little early and maybe beat the worst of afternoon traffic back home.
I’m in the middle of assembling the cardboard seed packet stand when the phone rings.
Grabbing an order pad and pen, I pick up the handset.
“Grandmother Wila’s Flower Shoppe, this is Lydia. How can I help you?” I ask brightly.
“Hello, Lydia.”
I suck in a sharp breath, my blood turning to ice at the sound of my mother’s voice. My hand
clenches around the pen, knuckles going white. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, and I sway a little
as my knees weaken beneath me.
“H-how did you get this number?” I choke out.
“It was on the card that came with the flowers you sent. Lovely arrangement, by the way,” she
replies casually.
I curse silently. I had been in a rush to get the flowers for Grandpa Fletcher’s funeral out in
time for overnight delivery, and Gabby must have stuck a business card in the box when I asked her to
finish packing it while I handled a customer.
“Glad you liked them,” I force out.
“Your father and I would have preferred if you were at the funeral, but…” she trails off, tone
still casual.
I draw circles on the order pad, tracing the same line over and over. The motion brings me
back to center. I straighten my spine, gathering my strength as the sparring match begins.
“Yeah, but ya know, my car is on the fritz,” I say, trying to keep my tone light.
“Yes, Jason told us. I thought your father had made it clear to him how important it was to us
that you be there. It would have been such a comfort to me, to have my one and only daughter with me
as I put my father in the ground,” Mom goes on, a sniffle at the end of her words.
She lied to you. I write, tracing the words over and over.
“I’m sorry. It just—”
“And your father worries about you being alone, away from the pack, so far from everyone
that could look after you.”
She knew and did nothing to warn you.
“I’m not alone, Mom. I’ve got Miss Wila and Gabby.”
“But they’re just betas, Lydia. You need an alpha, like I have your father and the pack.”
SHE KNEW AND LET IT HAPPEN.
I practically carve the words into the notepad while I stay mute, trying to collect myself. She
continues in my silence, talking about how important it is for omegas like us to be under alpha
protection, and how unsafe it is to be a female alone in the world, let alone a vulnerable omega. I hum
responses to her soliloquy at regular intervals, moving to resume what I had been doing. I’d learned
over the years that it is easier to let my mother talk herself to exhaustion in one sitting, and enduring
this now would get her off my back for a while. I finish the display and put the seed packets in their
appropriate places, only needing to keep half an ear on what my mother is saying at me. If I’ve heard
this speech once, I’ve heard it a thousand times.
Diane Fletcher met my father, Samuel Anderson, at a church potluck her junior year of high
school. He was visiting some relatives and swept her off her feet right away. They courted until she
graduated, and they were bonded and married within the year. My eldest brother, Samuel Jr, came
along shortly after. She’s the poster child for the omega fairytale: find a big, strong alpha to protect
and care for you, and give him a gaggle of children to rule over.
My mind wanders back to a time when that fantasy was all I ever wanted. To be a mother and
a wife. To have a bond mate who worshiped the ground I walked on, like I’d seen in the movies. My
childhood dream of an alpha would adore me, listen to me, love me more than the air he breathed.
He’d take me out, show me the world outside of my tiny hometown, and we’d live happily ever after.
I’d spent so long dreaming that I’d forgotten that life is never that kind. Even the fantasy my parents
painted was just a thin veneer over a marriage plagued with fights and bitterness. I’d learned the hard
way that dreams don’t come true, not for omegas like me.
I finish filling the seed display and move back to the counter, resting my elbows on it, zoning
out. It’s been almost a half an hour, and my mother is still going strong. I’ve long since lost the thread
of her lecture, and I have no desire to find it again. I wonder if I could just hang up and pretend to not
be here if she calls back. I’m weighing the pros and cons when her next words pull me back abruptly.
“Darren was at the funeral, you know,” Mom drawls pointedly.
I stop breathing for a moment and straighten in a snap. My hand tightens on the handset, and I
pick up the pen from where I left it on the counter. I tap it rapidly against the worn wood, rolling my
shoulders to release the tension as I take deep, steadying breaths. I shiver against a phantom breeze,
the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. My mind spins out of control, and I can’t think as my
chest tightens.
“Oh?” I cough, the only response my mind can muster.
“Yes, such a kind boy. He wanted to pay his respects, alpha to alpha. You know how much
work he did for my father, and how much all of us love him,” Mom gushes.
“I see.”
I trace over the words on the pad again and again. The truth. Not the story they’ve crafted. The
harsh reality.
She lied to you.
She knew and did nothing to warn you.
SHE KNEW AND LET IT HAPPEN.
My vision goes gray at the edges as I focus on the pad and the words I put there. The blue ink
is practically black against the pink paper and little tears appear on some of the downstrokes as I
move the pen back and forth along the letters. The motion starts to bring my mind back down, and
back under my control.
“He asked after you, of course. But since you decided I shouldn’t be privy to what you do
wherever you are, I couldn’t really tell him much,” Mom huffs indignantly.
“He doesn’t know where I am?” I ask, my voice a hoarse whisper.
“Well, no. Like I said, you won’t even tell me, your own mother, where you live. I had to
practically stalk you to find out about this little flower shop,” she goes on.
“Mom, please do not tell Darren where I am. We broke up for a reason, and I want it to stay
that way,” I press, my hand tightening around the pen until I hear plastic crack.
She’s silent for a long moment. “I don’t know. I’d hate to lie to an alpha, and if your father
asks about you, and it gets back to Darren—”
“Mom, I’m serious. I didn’t leave to hurt you or Dad, and I’ve kept up as much contact with
you as I can. This isn’t out of spite, but for my safety. If he finds out where I am, I’m gone. I will cut
off all contact, even with Jason,” I say, the shaking in my hands getting more intense.
“Don’t be dramatic, Lydia. That isn’t really—”
“Don’t test me, Diane. This is not up for debate.”
That makes her go quiet for a long moment. I hear a car pulling into street parking outside, and
the fan kicks on for the walk-in fridge in the back.
“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal, but okay. I won’t say anything. But if your
father asks about you, I will not lie and say I don’t know how to contact you,” she concedes with a
righteous sniff.
I sigh heavily. That’s probably the best I’m going to get from her. Time to bail. Any longer and
she’s going to find her second wind. “Fine. I have to go. There’s a customer.”
“Okay. Please call me on your cell phone when you can. My phone must have been hacked and
your number was deleted,” she replies quickly.
I roll my eyes. Always the victim. “Okay.”
If she’d have asked for my last dollar bill, I would have given it away gladly just to get her off
the damn phone. My phone number is nothing and can be easily changed if needed.
“I love you, Lydia.”
“Yep, bye.”
I hang up before she can get the last word and set the handset down carefully, fighting the
impulse to throw it across the room. They know where I work. Fuck. I like this job so much, love
Gabby and Wila more than most of my blood relatives. They’d be heartbroken if I quit. I wonder if I
could persuade Wila to change the business phone number. Maybe I should change the locks on my
apartment door? I’d have to double check with my landlord what kind of lock he would approve of
installing and make sure I get him the spare key.
The cycle of my thoughts has my skin flushing, sweat beading on my spine. I walk to the back
and discard my hoodie, putting my apron on over my tank top. I yank my hair out of its bun and run my
fingers through it, trying to settle my shaking hands. I pull my cell phone from my pocket and open my
messages, finding my thread with Jason.

Me: Mom just called me at my job. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me Darren was at the
funeral?

The typing bubble pops up moments later. I watch it for what feels like an hour. Is he writing a
fucking novel?

Jason: I thought I handled it. I didn’t realize he asked Mom about you, too.
Me: Well, she knows where I work now. And if she knows, everyone and their fucking
mother are going to find out.
Jason: He won’t find you. You are safe. I promise.
Jason: I’m taking care of it.

I roll my shoulders again, letting out an irritated sigh. I pull up my bank app, wondering how
much I have in my savings and if it’s enough to move. I like Everton, so maybe I could get away with
just moving across town.

Jason: You are not going to run again, Lydi. I’ve got you. Trust me. Please.

He knows me too well.

Me: Fine. But if he shows up here, I swear on all that is holy, Jason, I will fucking end you.
Jason: The only way he’s finding you is over my dead body.

I chuckle, my raw nerves feeling a little better. Jason on the warpath is a force to be reckoned
with. I just have to trust him. Even if it means doing nothing. I still look up replacement deadbolt
locks, trying to find a good option that my landlord would approve of. But my search is interrupted as
the front door opens, and the bell chimes. I throw my hair back up in a quick messy bun before
heading back out to the front, swearing under my breath.
“Hi, is there anything I can help you with?” I ask, my head ducked as I finish my hair.
I look up and stop dead. The blond alpha from Wickland House is standing in the middle of
the shop.
 Five
Rhett

I throw myself into the driver’s seat of my car with a heavy sigh. I tip my head back, and it thumps
and bounces slightly on the rest before I close my eyes. This was pointless. Why do I keep doing this
to myself? I just left a record shop with a stack of informational fliers and three DJs’ business cards
in my pocket for an event that isn’t happening. There was no trace of that lilac-and-honey omega scent
anywhere in the building.
I pull out my phone and look at the list of vendors. I’ve visited four bakeries, two
photographers, three furniture rental companies, and this establishment since Lex sent me the list a
week and a half ago. I was running out of options. And hope.
What are you doing, Rhett? Just because she’s an omega, it doesn’t give you the right to
hunt her down like a rabbit.
That voice in my head sounds suspiciously like Lex, and I can’t deny the truth of it. But my
instincts won’t let her disappear. Not yet.
I look at the list of vendors again, scrolling, searching. I’ve been going on gut feelings thus far,
picking businesses that call to me. But that has failed me ten times. Maybe I should be more
systematic about this?
Ah, yes. Systematically tracking down a girl you saw once. Like a total knothead.
I frown at my own thoughts. The longer this search has gone, the worse I’ve felt about it. This
feels like a waste of time. And yet my instincts will not let me let it go. She’s been in my dreams
every night since I first saw her, and I can’t shake this nagging pull to protect her. She needs me. Or at
least my brain is telling me she does.
I sigh again, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. I can feel a headache starting
behind my eyes. My instinct led me to my pack and has never led me astray before. And if it is telling
me to find this omega, there has to be a reason. But the longer this goes on, the more I’m getting
distracted from work, and worse, from my pack.
One more, and then I’m done. If I don’t find her at the next place, then I am letting this go
and moving on. I promise myself.
Setting my shoulders, I look through the list again and consider what I remember of her. She
was wearing a white shirt and black pants. The shirt didn’t fit well, but her pants clung to her peachy
ass and thighs like they were painted on.
Fucking focus, Cooper. I scold internally.
She had a blue apron, sky blue, a perfect complement to her hair. And she was carrying…
flowers.
I scroll to the florist’s section of the list, and sure e-fucking-nough, Grandmother Wila’s is the
first one listed. I should have recognized that apron sooner. I only spent six months in and out of that
shop during the State Street restoration project. I don’t relish the prospect of facing Wila Fitzgerald
again, but if this was where that omega worked, then I would do it.
Buckling my seatbelt, I start the car and head off toward Old Town.
 ∞∞∞

I pull into an empty parking spot on the street outside Grandmother Wila’s Flower Shoppe and
frown. The red-and-white awning is looking more pink-and-white, and I can see several holes in the
fabric. I glance up and down the street at other stores and notice similar wear and tear. I would have
to check the maintenance schedule when I go back into the office tomorrow.
I sit for a minute, watching the store. Thanks to a row of ferns and hanging flower baskets, I
can’t see into the interior of the store through the front windows. The sign on the front door is still
flipped to open, which is good. But I still sit in my car for several more moments.
Fuck it. She’s either here or she’s not.
I straighten my spine and get out of the car, adjusting my suit jacket as I close the door.
Walking the few paces across the sidewalk, I open the door. A merry bell dings as I enter, and I’m
immediately assaulted by the scent of a dozen different flowers, caramel candy apple, and freshly
turned earth. There’s a strange, plastic-y smell lingering near a cardboard display of different packets
of seeds, and I move away quickly from the unpleasant odor.
“Hi, is there anything I can help you with?” a chipper voice asks from the back of the store.
I turn toward the sound and freeze. It’s her. The omega. She’s here.
Her body tenses as she sees me, and I take a moment to look her over. She’s wearing jeans
and a purple tank top under her sky blue apron. Her skin is pale gold, and smooth up her arms. Her
lips are parted slightly, and her chest is rising and falling rapidly, and I can see the beginnings of
cleavage at the neck of her top.
Her tits are perfect.
I clear my throat, pulling myself together.
“There is. I’m here for some flowers,” I say, approaching the counter.
She takes the smallest step in retreat, her head tilting back to keep looking at my face. The top
of her head only comes up to my shoulder. Closer now, that plastic smell is stronger, but I can still
find hints of lilac, rain, and vanilla underneath.
Why is she using scent blockers? She smells divine.
She clears her throat, shaking her head a little. Is she as distracted by me as I am by her? That
little bubble of hope expands slightly in my chest.
“Well, you certainly came to the right place. Is this for a special occasion? Birthday,
anniversary…” her voice trails off as she pulls a pad of paper across the counter. She rips off the top
few pages, but I glimpse the writing before she balls up the paper and tosses it away.
She lied to you.
She knew and did nothing to warn you.
SHE KNEW AND LET IT HAPPEN.
My brow furrows and I frown a little. Who is “she”? Wila? I don’t get to think longer on those
cryptic messages, as she turns those bottle green eyes on me expectantly. Right, why do I need
flowers?
“Nothing special, jus’ want to surprise someone in me pack.” I shrug, trying to sound casual
but cringing internally as my words stray into my mother’s accent from my nerves.
“Your bond mate?”
I blink once, unable to tear my eyes from her. Is she asking if I’m single?
 A corner of my mouth twitches upward. The beginning of a blush blooms on the bridge of her
nose, growing larger the longer I stay silent, and her rain and earth scent is pushing past the blockers.
I bite my lip a little as I consider my answer. My relationships with my pack mates were hardly first-
meeting territory.
“Not my bond mate. She’s... well, she’s an alpha. We’re close, and I love ’er to death, but not
—she’s important to me,” I admit, stumbling as I try to find the right words to describe our flirty-but-
not-serious relationship.
Her brows twitch together in confusion for a moment, a little frown pulling at her plump lips.
Her scent shifts, and I see her fidget, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Heat flares in my chest,
making my heart flip-flop like a fish out of water.
“It’s not— We’re not traditional, one-partner people,” I blurt before I realize what I’m saying.
Her eyebrows fly up, and her cheeks flush brighter pink. Why is that the cutest thing I’ve
ever seen?
“Oh, I didn’t mean to pry. That’s fine, if it works.” Her words come out in a jumble, and her
blush creeps down her face toward her neck.
“It’s not prying if I tell you, love,” I say, laughing a little to cover my awkwardness.
Her blush darkens to a cherry red, and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. I wonder
what color she’d turn if I tell her I want to bite that lip, too.
“Right, um, so for your packmate, do you have any specific flowers in mind?” She looks back
down at the paper and then glances up at me through her lashes.
Holy shit. I want her to look at me that way as she has my cock deep in her throat, my—
“Lilacs,” I say without thinking.
Her blush turns darker still, spreading over her chest. Her scent is coming through stronger,
that fresh rain scent moving forward over the scent-blocker, bringing honey and vanilla behind it.
“I-I have to see if we have any,” she says faintly.
“I can wait,” I murmur, my voice going husky.
She swallows, and I glance at her throat and see her pulse hammering. So, she isn’t
unaffected. My eyes flick up to meet her gaze as she straightens her spine. I catch her eyes trailing up
and down my body, and I growl my approval low in my throat at her inspection. She jumps at the
noise, and her eyes come back to mine. Her pupils are blown wide, and her tongue darts out to wet
her lips.
“Right,” she rasps after another moment.
I chuckle slightly as she turns to go into the back room. My gaze travels down her incredible
curvy body, hoping to admire the view, but my eyes snag on her shoulder. And a bucket of ice comes
crashing down over me.
Peeking out from under her tank top, I can see an angry red scar on the back of her left
shoulder. About two inches wide, the oval shape is unmistakable. Teeth.
As that hopeful bubble deflates, I feel my brow pull down and I frown, puzzled. It doesn’t
look like a normal bond mark, with its silvery scar tissue covering a careful crescent shaped mark. It
almost looks like someone ripped a chunk out of her flesh and didn’t look after it. What kind of alpha
would leave their bond mark unhealed? And why can’t I scent them on her? Is that why she’s using
scent blockers?
My thoughts are interrupted as the omega comes back to the counter.
“We don’t have any lilacs in stock, as it’s a little early in the season. But if this isn’t time
sensitive, I can put in a call to our supplier and have them delivered,” she states, looking more put
together now.
“That’s okay, love. I don’t need them right away. When would you get them in?” I ask,
clearing my throat.
I need to back off until I have more information. She may have a mate, even if she smells like
heaven.
“I could have an arrangement put together for pickup on Saturday. Would that work for you?”
the omega says, looking at a calendar book.
I’ll take any excuse to come back. “That works,” I reply with a smile.
“I’ll put that order in for you, Mr.…” she trails off, looking at me again.
“Cooper. Rhett Cooper. And I didn’t catch your name.”
She smiles slightly, tilting her head to the side. Is she exposing her neck on purpose, or…?
“Lydia Anderson,” she says, blushing again.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Lydia. I’ll see you again on Saturday, then.”
“It’s a date,” she says with a laugh.
If only, little Lydia. If. Fucking. Only.
 Six
Rhett

I park in my place in the packhouse’s garage, still smiling. I hadn’t stopped since I left Grandmother
Wila’s and something in me was telling me I would keep smiling for a while yet.
Lydia Anderson.
The little flower has a name. A voice. Light, girlish, but deceptively sexy. She was sin
wrapped in innocence, and I wanted to peel apart that shell to unleash the temptress lurking below.
One step at a time, Cooper. First, you need to make sure she doesn’t have a mate.
Right. I’ll go back on Saturday and see if she’ll agree to a proper date. Or maybe just talk a
little more. Slow and steady.
I get out of my car and head inside, the smell of food, something garlicky and savory, drawing
me toward the kitchen. Lucas is there, aggressively chopping vegetables next to the island cooktop.
His shoulders are tense, brow furrowed in concentration. There’s a sizzling pan next to him, and his
gaze flicks to it now and then, monitoring. I slide behind him, wrapping an arm around his middle,
and kiss his neck lightly. His scent is strong: smoke, sugar, and graham crackers.
“What are we having tonight, Luc?” I whisper in his ear, nuzzling my nose against the junction
of his neck and shoulder. The warmth of him in my arms, the fit of him against me is like slipping into
a favorite shirt, comforting and secure.
He shivers and wriggles a little in my hold, moving the vegetables he was chopping into the
pan.
“Nothing if you make me burn this,” he growls.
I laugh and let him go, but not before kissing his neck one more time. He inhales at the contact,
and his eyes follow me as I round the island and take a seat on one of the stools.
“Why do you smell like flowers?” Lucas asks sharply.
I roll my eyes. “I visited a florist on my way home.”
“Are you planning a wedding and not telling us? I’m flattered, of course. But you could at
least do me the courtesy of proposing before you book the vendors,” Luc says, a brow cocked.
I chuckle at his humor. “If we were getting married, you’d know. No, I was just looking for
something.”
Luc nods absently, only to freeze a moment later and look at me with slightly widened eyes.
“You told Lex this wasn’t about that omega.”
“But I found her,” I say, dropping my voice.
Lucas picks up a spoon and stirs the pan, chewing on his bottom lip. I keep my gaze on his
face. It’s tight, but not angry, and his eyes are dark with swirling thoughts. Lucas has never been
particularly jealous when we’ve pursued relationships outside of our own, but none of those past
flings had ever been with an omega. I let the silence linger, giving him space to think. If he has
something to say, he’ll tell me. That’s one of the things I love about my beta. He isn’t afraid to speak
his mind or hold back for the sake of feelings.
“Did you do anything?” he asks, not looking at me.
I blink, his low, cautious tone catching me off guard. “No. Would there be a problem if I did?”
I ask slowly.
Lucas bobs his head, not a yes or a no. “If that’s her scent you’ve got all over you, I’m
surprised you didn’t at least get her number. Omegas who smell that good don’t stay on the market for
long.”
I blink again. I open my mouth to reply, but he goes on.
“I mean, I get it. I’m just a beta, and you’re an alpha. It’s not like I haven’t been expecting you
to find an omega sooner or later.” He’s talking to the pan, scraping the bottom with his spoon.
“Luc, look at me.” I growl, narrowing my eyes.
“Dude, it’s cool. I’m not mad. I’ve got Lex anyway. We can be adults about this,” he says,
shrugging.
I get up and round the island in four strides. “Lucas, look at me,” I snap, moving directly into
his space.
He shudders at my tone, not quite an alpha bark but definitely not a suggestion. His eyes,
stormy blue gray, meet mine, petulance and something a little sad sparking in them.
“You are mine, Lucas. No one is going to replace you, ever. Alpha, beta, omega, none of that
shit matters. I love you, and that’s never going to change, no matter who comes along,” I say, speaking
slowly and clearly.
He starts to turn back to the food. “Yeah, I know, but—”
I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, forcing his eyes to stay with me. “There is no
‘but.’ This omega is a stranger. You are pack. Bond or no bond, you’re mine. And I’m yours. Do you
need a reminder of that?” I cut across him, speaking slightly louder.
He swallows, and I see the doubt in his eyes. I lean in and claim his mouth with mine. I wrap
my other arm around his middle, pulling him tight to my chest. Lucas tries to pull away, but I push my
tongue into his mouth. With a moan, he relents, and his arms come to snake around me, one of his
hands fisting into my hair. His mouth is like a song I know by heart, each movement the melody that’s
been in my head for the last three years. My heart is a strong, kicking beat against my ribs, and there’s
a familiar swoop of excitement in my gut, the same one I felt when we kissed for the first time. Lucas
melts into me, and I worship his mouth with mine, grinding my hips to his. His cock is hard already
and pushing back against me as we speak with our bodies, a call and answer etched into our bones.
I push him back, pinning him between the cabinets and my body. My hands slide down his
stomach, finding the hem of his shirt. I feel the goosebumps rise on his skin as my fingers scrape
against the toned muscles under the material. He pulls away, gasping for air. I trail my mouth along his
jaw, down to his neck. My need for him rises in my belly, my cock already throbbing for him.
“Rhett, dinner—”
“Leave it. We’ll order out,” I growl, nipping at his neck.
“But—”
“I hear tha’ word out your mouth one more time, I will bend you over and turn yer ass red,” I
snap.
“Rhett, I can’t,” Lucas gasps, shivering as I bite his neck harder. Not quite enough to break the
skin, but enough for it to hurt exactly how he likes.
“You’re mine. Why can’t I have you?” I ask, my tone dangerously calm.
If he is playing the brat, this will be a fun evening.
Lucas pulls away from my mouth, and I look into his eyes. He’s flushed, far more than just a
few kisses would cause. He’s breathing hard, and he swallows as I watch.
“Lex, um…. she wasn’t happy when I asked if she and Matty wanted some privacy this
morning. You know how they get, sniping at each other to cover up the sexual tension.”
“The point, Lucas. Find it,” I snap, the pulsing hardness in my pants making me impatient.
“Well… she decided that if I was going to make jokes about being… about relieving tension,
that um… maybe I needed to—”
“Be left to stew,” I finish for him, my smile growing wide.
Lex and I like to play games, but her methods are far more creative than mine. Luc is bright
red, and I can feel him panting against my chest.
I give him a significant look, backing away slightly to let him catch his breath and clear his
head a little. He takes several deep breaths before locking his gaze with mine and nodding, a
triumphant little smirk crossing his lips for a moment before he can hide it. So, he knew what he was
doing, then. I keep my face impassive as my plan changes, adjusting to account for this new attitude I
see.
“Safe word?” I whisper.
“Red to stop, yellow to slow down,” he replies steadily.
“Very good, pet,” I purr, kissing him deeply.
He moans into my mouth, allowing me to slip my tongue past his lips briefly. He tastes earthy
and smokey, unable to hide his longing from me, leaning in to chase my lips as I pull away.
“Show me,” I command, stepping away.
“Right now?” he gapes, eyes going wide.
“I will not repeat myself,” I growl.
He swallows again and moves around me. He shuts off the burner and removes the pan. Then
he unbuckles his belt, not looking at me. His scent is turning smokier with every passing moment. His
long fingers shake a little as they work, and I throb as I imagine all the things his hands can do. But
that would have to be for another day. We are playing a very particular game, and I have a lesson to
teach.
“Eyes on me, pet,” I whisper.
He blushes darker and looks up at me through his lashes as he pops the button on his dark
jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. He turns around and bends at the waist, bracing his
chest on the island counter. He reaches behind him and spreads his ass. I chuckle to myself, seeing the
flared base of a chrome plug nestled between Lucas’s golden cheeks. Just as I had suspected.
“Oh, look at that. How long have you had this in now?” I coo, approaching slowly and
admiring the view.
His cock hangs heavily between his legs, hard and leaking pre-cum. I rub a hand soothingly
over his lower back as I admire him. His body is beautiful, long flowing lines and lean muscle. His
legs are covered in a smattering of coarse, dark hair, and I can see how they shake a little as he holds
the position. There are a few tattoos on his legs, the colorful ink swirling in familiar patterns. I know
every inch of the beta before me, but it’s always a pleasure and a privilege to touch him.
“Since this morning,” Lucas gasps as my hand slides down and applies gentle pressure on the
plug.
“And under strict orders to not take it out, or touch your cock, I assume,” I comment, as if we
are discussing the weather.
“I’ve been hard all day, sir. Please,” Lucas groans as I press a little more on the plug.
My cock jumps at his plea. He begs so prettily. I want to push him, take him to the edge and
hold him there. But I’m not the only dom Lucas answers to, and if Lex is administering this
punishment…
 “I don’t know. Lex wouldn’t appreciate me interfering with her plans. I don’t see how this
benefits me at all,” I say, drawing out the hesitation.
Lucas stands quickly, and I have to step away to avoid catching the back of his head with my
face. He spins and drops to his knees in front of me. The sight of his eyes, pupils blown wide, and
face twisted in a hungry grin nearly takes the strength from my legs. He licks his lips, and I purr, cock
pushing painfully against my zipper.
“Let me convince you, sir,” Lucas breathes, his hands twitching at his sides.
I smirk down at him. I keep eye contact with him as I open my fly and free my aching cock
from my boxers. Lucas leans in immediately and wraps his mouth around the swollen head. I hiss at
the first brush of his lips against me, but he doesn’t waste any time with teasing. His tongue flicks
across my slit as he sucks more of me down into his throat. I groan and close my eyes briefly, reveling
in the feel of his hot mouth, the slide of his tongue on the underside of my shaft. I wrap my hand in his
hair, pulling slightly as I take over the pace. Lucas looks up at me as I fuck his throat, saliva strings
hanging between us as I back off briefly before pushing him all the way to the base and hold him
there. He relaxes, and my hips twitch as his throat works me. He feels almost too good, the wet heat
of his mouth around me making my skin flush and head spin. I want to let go, to empty myself into his
eager mouth, but I draw back.
“Keep going,” I rasp, letting go of his head as an idea forms.
Lucas nods as he pulls away for a moment to catch his breath. He wraps one hand around the
base, where I can feel the beginnings of my knot forming, squeezing softly as his mouth works the rest.
I put a hand in my pocket and take out my phone. I dial a number, holding the phone up to my ear with
one hand, the other finding Lucas’s hair again.
“Hello, you,” Lex chirps as she answers.
“Hello, Lex. How has your day been?” I ask, my voice surprisingly steady.
Lucas’s eyes flash up to me, stilling with my cock half in his mouth. I thrust forward, holding
his head still as I slowly fuck his mouth.
“Long. I’m looking forward to coming home.” Lex sighs, and I hear her typing in the
background.
“To Lucas?” I ask, unable to keep the pant from my voice.
The typing stops. “Has he done something I should be aware of?” Her tone is light, but I can
hear the bite to it.
“He asked me to end your punishment early. He’s actually pleading his case right now.”
Lucas’s eyes go wide, and he grunts around my cock. I tug his hair sharply, and his grunts turn
to a moan at the pain. The vibration of his moan goes right to the base of my spine, and I barely
manage to swallow my groan of pleasure. I pull my beta away with a harsh yank on his hair, and Luc
pants and swallows hard, trying to form words.
“Is he? And how convincing has he been?” she asks, and that bite is sharpening to a razor’s
edge.
“Hmm, so far, so good. But it’s your call in the end,” I say, smirking to myself.
I angle my cock back toward Luc’s mouth, and he obediently opens for me, eyes locked with
mine. In long, slow strokes, I push his nose to my pelvis, growling as his tongue moves against me.
He keeps his eyes on mine, and I have to supress the urge to knot his mouth. I still feel it pulsing, and
Luc’s lips close tight over the bulge, the pressure the most divine torture. I can hardly feel my legs
and I go a little lightheaded with the pleasure of it.
Lex chuckles. “If he asked you to fuck him, who am I to deny you? But I told him he doesn’t
get to come until I get home.”
I laugh, panting slightly as I try to regain some semblance of my control. “Sounds like a plan.
We’re ordering out tonight, just a head’s up.”
I pull Lucas away, and he sits back on his heels, looking at me in confusion as he wipes his
chin.
“Perfect. Wouldn’t want our little chef to be preoccupied,” Lex purrs.
I laugh and end the call, looking down at my beta. His confusion melts to concern as a smirk
spreads across my face.
“Good news,” I growl, a gruff chuckle.
“What?” he pants.
“Get up and bend over for me now.”
His eyes light up, and he scrambles to obey. I move to a drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube.
By the time I turn around, Lucas is leaning on the island, excited eyes locked with mine over one
shoulder.
I stroll back to him, setting the bottle on the counter next to his braced arm. I slowly roll up my
sleeves to the elbow, not saying a word. I rub a hand down his back, gently soothing him until he
relaxes more against the counter. His cock is trapped against the marble, and he shivers.
“Lex has given me permission to remove your plug, pet,” I say tenderly, my voice only slightly
louder than a whisper.
Lucas lets out a sharp breath of relief, which makes my smirk grow.
“Thank you, sir. Thank you,” Lucas pants.
I chuckle and let my hand drift down between his cheeks, applying pressure to the base. Lucas
gasps and arches, and I press and release my hand against him, fucking him deeper with the plug. His
hips push back after a moment, and I can see the smear of his pre-cum on the cabinet below him. His
desperate little whines make my cock throb and pulse, and I can feel my pre-cum beading on the
swollen head.
Wrapping my fingers gently around the base, I drag it from his hole, even as his body fights to
keep it in. Lucas groans deep in his chest as I pull it free of the ring of muscle, watching as his hole
clenches and releases, seeking to be filled again.
“Is your greedy little ass feeling empty?” I ask mildly.
Lucas nods, whining and pushing back toward me. “Yes, sir. Please. I need your cock. I need
you to fill me. Please.”
I set the plug down and pick up the lube, taking a moment to stroke my cock to thoroughly coat
it. Every touch sends sparks flying over my skin, and I only manage a few strokes, so close to
exploding that it nearly hurts. Lucas turns his head to me, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with need. I
move behind him and press the tip of my cock to his fluttering hole. With a smooth thrust, I seat myself
to the hilt, groaning at the tight heat wrapped around me. Luc arches, hands scrambling for purchase
on the slick marble.
My thrusts are slow at first, letting him adjust to me. The slick, tight heat of him around me is
almost enough to make me forget that this is a lesson. But he feels so damn good, squeezing my cock
as I fight to pull my hips back. But after a few languid rolls, I press deep and lean forward to grab a
fistful of his hair.
“Lex said I could fuck you. She didn’t say tha’ you get to come,” I growl, snapping my hips
forward, hard and sharp.
Lucas gasps at the sudden thrust, a whine spilling from his throat. I set a punishing pace,
Lucas’s pine smoke scent mixing with the remnants of Lydia’s florals to send bolts of pure pleasure
through my body. My fingers dig into his hip, the sound of my hips meeting his over and over driving
me into a frenzy.
“Please, sir. I need to come, please let me come,” Lucas babbles, pushing back to meet my
thrusts.
I swat him hard on the ass, and he clenches down on me. “No.”
Lucas lets out a cry, and I see his hand drifting toward his cock. I growl and grab his wrist,
pulling it behind his back. I grab his other wrist, pulling them together so I can hold both of his wrists
with one of my hands.
“Act like a brat, you get fucked like one,” I snarl, thrusting hard and fast.
With almost no warning, my spine tingles and my balls tighten. I slam forward, pushing Lucas
harder into the edge, spilling deep inside of him. I stay still for a long moment, breathing hard as my
whole body pulses with my release. Lucas’s hole clenches around me, desperate for a release I’m not
going to give him. He is panting hard, almost sobbing with his need to come. But that’s not my job.
Lex will take care of him when she gets home. I pull out slowly, Lucas whining at the loss of contact.
I enjoy the sight of my cum leaking from his hole for a moment before I release his hands. Lucas tries
to stand, but I press down on his back to keep him in place.
“But, sir—”
I growl deep in my chest, and he stops protesting with a swallow. I pick up the plug and the
bottle of lube.
“I thought she said you could take it out,” Lucas whispers.
I laugh, a low dangerous sound. “She did. She never said I had to leave it out.”
Lucas lets out a desperate sob as I move behind him again. With one hand on his lower back
to keep him in place, I touch the plug to his asshole, gathering up the stream of my cum that has leaked
out. With careful pressure, I seat the plug back where I found it.
I step away and Lucas sits there for another moment, face pressed to the counter. I move to his
side, stroking his hair gently. My skin still hums with the last traces of pleasure, and I have to push
down my urge to hold him. I tuck my soft cock away and I gently play with his hair between my
fingers. Being able to touch him like this grounds me, letting me come out of that headspace, to just be
a partner, not a dom. Lucas’s breathing evens out, and he gathers himself, bending down and
refastening his pants.
“Lucas?” I ask hesitantly.
“I fucking hate you two,” he grumbles, adjusting his still-hard cock to be slightly more
comfortable.
I smirk and pull him into my arms. “I love you, too.”
He scowls up at me, but I only laugh and kiss him softly. He relaxes in my arms and returns the
kiss.
“Are you truly upset about my interest in this omega?” I whisper against his lips.
He lets out a sharp sigh, not looking at me. “No, not really,” he grumbles, squirming a little. “I
just…”
“I know, Luc. But if this is going to make you uncomfortable, then just say the word,” I say,
pinching his chin gently between my thumb and forefinger and tilting his head so he looks at me.
Lucas lets out a long sigh. “Is it bad that I actually want you to see where this goes? That scent
you brought home is like cocaine, even to me.”
I pull away slightly with a surprised laugh. His ears and neck are turning pink, and he’s not
looking at me.
“I have an appointment to go back on Saturday, if you want to see what the fuss is about,” I
offer slowly.
Lucas shakes his head. “You feel her out first. It’s not like what we have going on is…
conventional. It might be too much for you to bring your boyfriend along to ask her out.”
Right. Heat rises in my cheeks. “I didn’t think about that,” I admit.
Lucas pulls away with a laugh and heads to our pile of takeout menus.
“It’s because you think with your prick first, knothead,” he throws over his shoulder.
I chuckle darkly. My little brat. “I was going to tell Lex how good you were, following the
rules of her punishment. Now I might have a different story to tell.”
Lucas spins around, eyes wide and shouting apologies. I laugh again, and he shows me a
middle finger before turning back to his task.
 Seven
Lydia

“And then what happened?” Gabby presses, practically vibrating with excitement.
“I said ‘It’s a date.’ Ya know, like a fucking idiot,” I groan, hiding my burning face in my
hands.
Gabby and Wila had come back from their delivery run shortly after Rhett Cooper, that
delicious alpha from Wickland House, had left. He’d filled out an order form and made a point to
mention that the number he was leaving was his personal cell phone, and I could text him with any
questions. Now, with the shop closed, I’m sitting at the tiny kitchen table in the apartment above the
shop, sipping wine with Gabby while Wila works on cooking supper.
Gabby cackles at my misery, dancing in her seat. I lean over and push her, but I can’t keep
from smiling. She wipes away a tear of mirth from her eye, taking deep breaths to collect herself.
“I cannot believe you got to meet Rhett fucking Cooper,” she says, sighing wistfully.
“I mean, he came in and ordered flowers for a female alpha in his pack. It’s not like we ran
into each other at a bar or anything,” I reply with a shrug.
“You know who he’s talking about, right? That female alpha?” Gabby exclaims, her eyebrows
raised pointedly.
I blink at her a few times, not seeing the connection. “Am I supposed to?” I ask skeptically.
“My God, you are so sheltered. Hold on,” Gabby says, jumping out of her chair and racing
back to the stairs and up to her room.
I take a long drink of my sweet red wine as Wila moves into the open doorway between the
kitchen and living room/dining room and leans against the frame. The apartment isn’t huge, the main
living floor holding the open plan living room and dining room, kitchen, and a bathroom. The second
floor has two bedrooms and a full bathroom, and an access staircase to the roof. The apartment didn’t
get the same restoration treatment as the storefront, so the decor is modern, full of neutral tones and
warm gray furniture.
“Mr. Cooper had to put in an order? We didn’t have what he wanted in stock?” Wila asks
incredulously.
“He wanted lilacs,” I reply noncommittally.
Wila lets out a bark of a laugh. “I bet he does. But it’s good that he’s coming back. It’ll give
me a chance to give him a piece of my mind.”
“Gran, no! Don’t scare him off!” Gabby shouts, coming back down the stairs with a magazine
in hand.
“What? Someone has to keep that St. Clair Foundation honest. And it’s about time someone
did something about the awnings,” Gran protests, going back to the kitchen.
Gabby throws herself back into her chair and plops the open magazine in front of me. It’s a
gossip magazine, with a section on the richest packs in the country. The article spans multiple pages,
with paparazzi photos of different celebrity packs positioned next to small blocks of text about the
members. Gabby points to Number 15 of 20, Pack St. Clair.
I recognize Rhett immediately, dressed in a perfectly tailored navy blue suit and white shirt
that brings out the color of his eyes. He’s not smiling, but I can’t help but feel a slight flush as I stare
at the intense smolder on the glossy page. He’s standing between two people, a man and a woman.
The man is slightly shorter than Rhett, wearing a toothy grin that brightens his entire face. His sandy
brown hair is tousled, perfectly styled, and yet somehow incredibly casual. His warm brown eyes are
bright and laughing, like he just heard the funniest joke in the world. The woman, on the other hand, is
stone-cold beauty. Her dark hair was pulled over one shoulder in smooth vintage waves, accenting
her elegant neck and jawline. Her hazel eyes are lined and shadowed expertly, and her black dress is
sleek, professional, but incredibly sexy. My heart flip-flops at the sight of her imperious posture. This
is a woman who does not suffer fools lightly.
My eyes drift over to the block of text next to the photograph, and I feel my heart drop as I
read.

Pack St. Clair, founded by Alexandra St. Clair (left), is composed of alphas Rhett Cooper
(center) and Mateo Hutchenson (right), owners and proprietors of C&H Design, a high-end
building and interior design firm. Ms. St. Clair, CEO of the not-for-profit St. Clair Foundation, is
the alpha daughter of famed builder, Leopold St. Clair. Not pictured, Lucas Klausen is the pack’s
long-time beta, who himself is the owner of two Michelin-star restaurants in Everton, GA. This
photo was taken at the recent opening of the historic Wickland House Hotel, an ambitious
restoration spearheaded by the St. Clair Foundation.

Gabby is staring at me expectantly as I look up from the magazine.

“So he’s rich? I could have told you that. He paid with a black card,” I say flatly.
“Babe, seriously. He said he was getting flowers for ‘a female alpha’ who’s ‘very important’
to him. It’s her! Alexandra St. Clair,” Gabby says, air quoting Rhett’s words back to me. She taps
rapidly on Alexandra’s paper face.
I swallow and consider. “He said she’s not his bond mate,” I mumble.
Gabby, giving me the Sigh of the Long Suffering, rubs her face before looking back at me. “Let
me spell this out for you. You run into this hunky ass alpha from across the room of a fancy hotel. And
then he shows up at your job less than two weeks later, and orders flowers for another pack member,
the leader of his pack, a pack without a bonded omega. And those flowers smell like you.” Gabby
speaks slowly, counting her points on her fingers, and then whisper-shouts her last point in my face.
I furrow my brows and take another long drink of my wine, draining the glass. Rhett was
flirting with me; I can admit that now that I’ve had time away to evaluate the situation. But alphas are
just like that. Just because my instincts want me to roll over, show my belly, and beg him to say all
manner of filthy things to me in that lilting accent of his, doesn’t mean that he wants me to. But that
growl…
“Earth to Lydia, are you picking up what I’m putting down?” Gabby asks, snapping her fingers
before my eyes.
I jump and pull back from the sudden closeness. “Not really,” I sigh, exasperated.
“You said it yourself, and it’s been a rumor forever. Pack St. Clair’s lack of monogamy or
traditional relationship dynamics is practically an open secret. They haven’t come out publicly, but
they don’t correct the media when reports come out about them being caught in flagrante delicto with
someone outside the pack,” Gabby pushes.
“I don’t get what that has to do with me,” I moan, starting to get annoyed.
“Lydia, babe, darling, Rhett Cooper wants to court you. I know you don’t know much about
courting rituals, but this is textbook acclimatizing. He’s bringing your scent back to his pack, to the
other alphas, so they don’t flip shit when an omega enters the space for the first time,” Gabby
explains.
I open my mouth to retort but stop short as my brain comprehends the information. Rhett
Cooper is an alpha, in a pack with two other alphas, and he’s bringing my scent back to them. I want
my first instinct to be fear, because having one alpha catch my scent is bad enough without bringing
two more into the absolute train wreck that is my personal life. But the primal part of my brain only
purrs with delight at how sweet and considerate that sort of gesture is. I shake my head in disbelief,
pushing those delusional feelings deep down and out of sight.
“He doesn’t even know me. He certainly doesn’t want to court me. And, besides, I’ve never
heard of acclimatizing before,” I protest, rubbing at the phantom ache in my left shoulder slightly.
“That’s because it’s an old-fashioned tradition that kids these days don’t appreciate and make
fun of alphas for doing,” Wila snaps as she brings a casserole dish from the kitchen.
My mouth waters at the smell of her cooking. Baked mac and cheese from scratch. Savory
carbs are perfect for my mood right now. I pile a huge helping onto my plate as soon as Wila sets
down the dish.
“Today’s alphas don’t respect other alphas like they used to. They’ll bring whoever they want
into a pack space without warning and damn the consequences for their partner and pack dynamics.
Who cares if they bring their omega into a room full of alphas, and one of them gets thrown into a rut
and the omega gets hurt? No fucking respect,” Wila snipes, scooping her own portion onto her plate
with a little more force than necessary.
“There aren’t packs full of alphas like that anymore, Gran. Most packs are almost all betas,
and may have one or two alphas, if that. Most omegas use services to safely meet packs. No offense,”
Gabby says, throwing the last part at me.
I shrug. Growing up in a small town, I didn’t know omega pairing services even existed.
Connections were made by family, friends, and friends of friends. By the time I moved to Everton and
I was free to try them, I found they were well out of my price range. There were money-back
guarantees if the matches failed, but it was still too risky. I didn’t need a pack, and I’d had enough of
courting to last me a lifetime.
“Even still. Your grandfather brought buckets of dirt and lemons into his packhouse for three
months before I ever set foot inside. And that’s with me only being a beta,” Gran scoffs between
bites.
“You don’t smell like lemons to me,” I comment, trying to change the subject.
“That went away when I hit menopause. But before that, Ernie used to say I tasted like—”
“No no no no,” Gabby shouts, clamping her hands over her ears.
It’s my turn to cackle, and Wila joins me. I catch her fond smile and blush a little, looking
away.
“He might be trying to acclimate his pack, but that boy skipped the first step if he’s trying to
court you,” she says, a sly smirk pulling at her lips.
I furrow my brow and cock my head to the side.
“He has to get through me,” she growls.
My stomach flips, and I smile. The dragon at the gates, protecting the princess from harm.
 Eight
Lydia

Me: Hello, Mr. Cooper. This is Lydia Anderson from Grandmother Wila’s Flower Shoppe. Your
arrangement will be ready for pickup tomorrow. You can come in anytime between 9:00AM and
5:30PM to collect it.

I stare at the message for a long moment before hitting send.

Professional. Polite. But not too lengthy.
I had spent the last twenty minutes typing out several versions of the same information. We
usually call customers to let them know their order is ready, but he specifically asked for a text. I
stare nervously at the screen for a long moment before shaking my head. Why am I waiting for a reply
from a customer? I shove the phone back into my pocket and set about watering the plants in the small
greenhouse on the roof of the shop.
A moment later, I feel the vibration of his reply.

Rhett Cooper: Beautiful. I’ll be in first thing. How do you take your coffee, love?

I stare at the message, blinking rapidly. My eyes are reading the words, but my brain is
stubbornly refusing to comprehend them.
“Hey, are you okay?” Gabby asks at my shoulder.
I jump at her sudden appearance, panting. “Jesus, Gabs!” I gasp.
She laughs and comes up to my side again, looking at my phone. She reads the message and
inhales dramatically.
“You have Rhett Cooper’s number. And he’s asking for your coffee order!” she exclaims in my
ear.
I flinch away from the noise and roll my eyes. “I have his number because he left it when he
made his order,” I explain.
“He’s still asking for your coffee order, though,” Gabby teases, pulling gently on the end of my
braid.
I purse my lips and look back at the message. He’s waiting for a response.

Me: Sugar, lots of it. If you think you’ve added too much, add one more.
Rhett Cooper: Haha, sweet tooth for a sweet girl.

My face goes hot, and my stomach flips a little at his praise. Why do I like that? And why do I
want him to do it again? Gabby reads the message and lets out a long “aww,” hugging me around the
shoulders.
“Is this guy for real?” she gushes, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet.
I blush deeper. Rhett Cooper does seem almost too good to be true. And, as the saying goes, if
it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. A pit forms in my stomach at the thought. I put my phone
away, even as Gabby pouts next to me. She needles me to continue texting him as I go back to
watering the hanging baskets. And I can’t say that it’s entirely an accident when I catch her with the
hose shortly after that.

∞∞∞

I look in the mirror for the third time since waking up. I purse my lips, debating whether my
eyeliner and mascara were acceptable. It was just a little black swoop on my upper lid, not even
winged out. I check my phone and groan as I realize I don’t have time to wipe it off and fix it again. I
had already dressed and braided my hair in a simple plait, but even choosing an outfit this morning
had felt like a chore. Nothing felt right, too loose or too tight, fabric too itchy or too soft. I have been
taking the heat suppressants as they were prescribed to me, but it seems like this cycle will be a rough
one.
Making a mental note to call my doctor about upping my dose, I grab my bag and head out the
door. It feels weird to not be swigging coffee on my way to my car, but then I blush as I remember
why.
Rhett Cooper is bringing me coffee.
My stomach lurches and my thighs clench at the thought. I get into my car and sigh, closing my
eyes to collect myself before starting the engine and heading out. My dream last night had been
particularly intense, his rolling accent whispering praise in my ear as his fingers filled my aching—
NOPE, pull it back, Lydia.
The wetness between my thighs at the memory of that dream brings another wave of heat to my
face. I grip the wheel tighter, focusing on the road. My jeans don’t feel wet, but my panties are a lost
cause. I just have to keep it together long enough for Rhett to collect his order and leave. I could hide
in the back of the store once he left and then delete his number. He may be charming, but our
connection is entirely professional. Once this was over, I never have to think about that delicious
whiskey scent again. Or his dancing blue eyes. Or his perfect cupid’s bow of a mouth. Or the way his
tongue wraps around my name like a caress.
I feel a little more settled as I pull into my usual parking spot in the back lot now that I have a
plan. I’d dealt with alphas before, and I could handle this one. It would be a few minutes, at the most.
My mental pep talk continues through opening duties. Gabby keeps pestering me about when
Rhett would arrive, but I brush her off. He hasn’t texted me since yesterday afternoon, and I hate that I
feel a little disappointed. To be fair, I didn’t text him either. But, I remind myself, it’s just
professional. Why would I need to text him?
The jingle of the bell on the front door draws my eyes from the roses I’m trimming in the back
room. The scent of leather and old books drifts through the doorway and I feel my tense shoulders
relaxing of their own accord.
“Good morning, Mrs. Fitzgerald,” a now-familiar voice greets.
“Mr. Cooper. I’ve been told that you have an order you need to pick up,” Wila says, her tone
flat.
Rhett clears his throat a little. Is he nervous? “I do. Lyd-Ms. Anderson let me know it’s
ready.”
Gabby, who’s standing across the stainless steel table, looks at me, her jaw practically
unhinged.
“What is that accent?” she mouths to me.
“I don’t know,” I mouth back frantically.
“Lydia, your pickup is here,” Wila shouts through the open door.
“Coming, Gran,” I call back, cringing at how high pitched my voice comes out.
I scramble to the walk-in fridge and carefully pick up the arrangement by the square vase. The
dark purple and white lilacs are interspersed with purple roses and greenery, as well as a few sprigs
of lavender. I press my face close to the blooms, breathing in the delicate floral scent. I can admit that
I spent a good hour longer than I normally would have, fussing over the details. But for the amount of
money Rhett paid, I had to make sure that it was up to snuff. Or at least, that’s the excuse I had given
Gabby.
I back out of the swinging door between the workspace and the shop, careful not to hit the
flowers on my way through. I turn and my next breath catches in my throat. Rhett is dressed casually
today, dark designer jeans and a light blue polo shirt hug his athletic frame, showing off the muscles
of his thighs and biceps. He’s holding a cardboard drink carrier in one hand, two cups of coffee in it.
His eyes are bright with his smile as he sees me turn, and I can almost detect a trace of chocolate
under the whiskey and leather of his scent.
I clear my throat and set the arrangement on the counter. “Is this okay? I can change anything if
you don’t like it.” My voice trails off as I flush pink under his gaze.
“Lydia, this is beautiful. I don’t want to change a thing,” Rhett gushes, and my stomach does a
triple axel.
He looks up from the flowers and seems to lose his train of thought. I rub at the back of my
neck and look away, feeling suddenly very warm.
“I believe I promised coffee,” he says, holding a cup out to me.
I take it with muttered thanks, stepping back from the counter and taking a tentative sip. My
knees go a little weak, the warm caffeine and sugar rushing through me. How did he get this exactly
right?
“Well, while Lydia wraps that up, I have a bone to pick with you, Mr. Cooper,” Wila says.
I jump at the sound of her voice. Did I forget she was right next to me?
Rhett’s smile turns bashful. “I have a feeling I know what this is about,” he admits.
“Then you should have come sooner. The B.O.A. has been calling about getting those awnings
repaired for months, boy,” Wila snaps, and I swear I see Rhett flinch.
The B.O.A., or Business Owner’s Association, includes the owners of all the shops on the
Old Town portion of State Street. It was founded when the restoration project began to keep the St.
Clair Foundation from strong-arming any one business. It keeps businesses honest with each other,
too, setting up rules for sidewalk maintenance and other trivial things like that. Wila sometimes calls
them the Busybody Oversteppers Association, but she can admit that they have their uses. Even if they
try to tell her when exactly she needs to put up and take down holiday decorations in her front
windows.
“We sincerely apologize for not getting to it sooner. Did the inspectors not come by?” Rhett
asks.
I take another long drink of the coffee before setting the cup down and moving the arrangement
over to the finishing station to wrap it in cellophane. I find I am working slowly, because I can’t take
my eyes off him for very long. He is looking Wila directly in the face, eyebrows pulled down slightly,
giving her his undivided attention. And I don’t know why that makes my heart skip a beat.
 “Of course, those lazy kids came out. They took pictures, asked about the damage, and told us
we’d hear back from the foundation soon. That was six weeks ago, and we haven’t heard squat,” Wila
goes on.
Rhett nods seriously and pulls out his cell phone. “I checked the maintenance schedule, and I
didn’t see a report. But it’s clear that we need to do something about the state of them. What happened
exactly?” Rhett questions, looking between her and his phone.
Wila launches into the story about the hailstorm we had a few months back, but I can’t take my
eyes off Rhett. Even though he’s typing on his phone and scrolling through various apps, he nods along
with the story, asking follow-up questions and listening fully to her responses. His hair is less styled
today, pieces falling down onto his forehead. As his fingers brush them back, I can’t help but picture
how they would feel in my hair, pulling a little as he grips it in a fist and—
“If you don’t fuck him, babe, I will,” Gabby whispers in my ear.
I jump and squeak at her words. Rhett’s eyes snap to me, and his mouth pulls into a frown. I
turn and smack Gabby on the arm, and his face relaxes, focus returning to Wila’s explanation of the
runaround she and the BOA have been going through to get the awnings fixed.
“I can’t fuck him, Gabby. He’s got a pack,” I hiss through gritted teeth.
“That hasn’t stopped him from undressing you with his eyes since the moment he walked in,”
Gabby mumbles, cutting a length of ribbon for me.
“Gabby, I… I don’t know. He’s so…”
“Hot? Charming? Into you?” Gabby tries to finish for me.
“Not my type.” I sigh, still keeping my voice down as I help hold the cellophane in place
while Gabby ties the ribbon. “I swore off alphas for a reason, you know.”
Gabby sets down her scissors and looks at me with all the seriousness of the grave. “I know.
But you can’t tell me you’re not into him. You are pushing more perfume than a Macy’s.”
I blush bright red, tucking my head. I glance over my shoulder and find Rhett looking at me.
He gives me a little smile that turns my lower belly into molten lava. I look back to Gabby and her
deadpan stare cuts through me.
“Fine. I can admit that he’s attractive, but it doesn’t mean that it’ll work,” I admit with a huff.
“You won’t know unless you try,” Gabby says under her breath.
“I…” I start, breaking off and chewing my bottom lip.
“Shoot your shot, babe. You deserve it,” Gabby hisses, giving me a stern look.
“I will personally oversee the survey on Monday. I cannot express how sorry I am for the
delay. Lex—Ms. St. Clair will be informed, and we will look into this oversight,” Rhett presses from
behind us.
I look back, and Wila is nodding with stern approval. “I’m glad that you’re going to be
handling this personally, Mr. Cooper. And you won’t be trying to distract my staff while you’re here,
will you?”
I choke on my inhale, turning away to hide my burning face in my hands. I still catch Rhett’s
smirk as his eyes flick in my direction. Gabby’s shoulders are shaking with barely contained laughter.
If a sinkhole opened under the shop right now and swallowed me whole, I would count it as a
blessing.
“I can try to keep my distracting to a minimum, Mrs. Fitzgerald,” Rhett says slowly, and I can
hear the laughter in his voice, too.
“You better, boy,” Wila grumbles, turning to me. “Lydia, help Mr. Cooper take his flowers out
to his car.”
 I take a deep breath, trying to force the blush from my face by sheer force of will. I turn back
around and find Rhett staring at me again. His expression is neutral, but I can see the amusement in his
eyes. I pick up the arrangement, thankful that the cellophane hides my face a little as I walk around the
counter. Rhett moves toward the door, taking his coffee with him. He holds the front door open for
me, and I follow him to a black sedan parked on the street. It’s sleek, elegant, and just screams luxury.
He opens the back driver’s door and takes the flowers from me. Our hands brush briefly, and a shiver
races down my spine at the contact. After he closes the door, his gaze turns back to me, and I find
myself unable to move again.
“I hope your alpha likes them,” I say breathlessly.
“I’m sure she will, love. Your work is incredible. Where did you learn to do that?” Rhett
asks, a small smile tugging at his lips.
I blush a little and shrug. “I’ve always been good with flowers. I used to make my parents
bouquets of weeds and wildflowers when I was a kid.” I laugh.
He chuckles in response, and silence falls between us. It’s heavy and my mouth goes dry as I
inspect his face. He has a scar on his upper lip, visible by the lack of hair in his moustache. Up close,
I can see that his facial hair is closer to red than brown.
“May I ask you a personal question, Lydia?” Rhett asks, breaking the silence.
I pull my eyes from his lips and meet his gaze. I pale a little, swallowing hard. I fight the urge
to wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. He’s standing a full arm’s length from me, but it feels like
hardly any space at all. I nod slowly, licking my suddenly dry lips. His eyes dart down at the motion,
but they return instantly. His pupils are dilated, and his scent is shifting towards whiskey.
“If I were to ask you to join me for dinner tomorrow, would there be someone who would
object to that?” Rhett asks, voice low and husky.
I blink at him for several seconds. I was not expecting that. “Um…” I try to form words, but
my brain will not cooperate. I look away to gather my thoughts. My cheeks are heating again. When I
look back, I let out a startled chuckle when I see that, under his beard and across his cheeks, he’s
turning red, too.
“I’m sorry. I must have misread—”
“No, there isn’t.”
We speak at the same time, and it’s his turn to blink at me. I can’t help but giggle. “There isn’t
anyone. I’m not bonded or seeing anyone,” I repeat.
The sound makes him relax a little, and a smile creeps across his face.
“Oh, well. In that case, would you like to join me for dinner tomorrow? I know this place we
can go, and the chef owes me a favor,” Rhett says, his words tumbling out like he can’t get them out
fast enough.
I giggle a little harder at his eagerness, a little knot forming in my stomach. He’s watching me
with bright, hopeful eyes, the blue of his irises dancing with anticipation.
“Okay, yeah. Dinner sounds great,” I say at last.
Rhett’s smile widens as he takes my hand. I stiffen, trying not to flinch at the sudden
movement, but relax again when he brings it up to his lips and kisses my knuckles softly. “It’s a date,
Lydia Anderson.”
 Nine
Rhett

I pull into the St. Clair Foundation offices, parking in my reserved space. It feels like my feet hardly
touch the ground as I carry Lydia’s flower arrangement into the main lobby and up to the top floor. I
can still smell her on the wrappings, and I feel almost dizzy. I flash a blinding smile at Erica, Lex’s
beta secretary, before heading right into the office.
“Darling, has anyone ever told you that you work too hard?” I tease as I close the door behind
me.
Lex doesn’t look up from her computer and the email she’s writing, but I see her roll her eyes.
“Not everyone gets to take the weekends off,” she says, eyes scanning the screen.
“You could if you wanted to. You are literally the boss. And poor Erica has to be in here too,”
I chide with a laugh.
She finally looks my way, and her eyes narrow as she sees what I’m holding. “What have you
done now?” she deadpans.
I scoff in over-exaggerated offense. “Am I not allowed to just bring flowers to a gorgeous,
powerful, generous—”
“No,” she cuts me off.
I walk over to her desk and set the arrangement down in front of her. “Have you ever heard of
the expression ‘it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission’?” I ask casually, sitting in one of the
leather chairs in front of her desk.
Lex pulls the ribbon and unwraps the cellophane. I see the tensing and relaxing of her
shoulders, and a small wave of Lydia’s scent washes past me. Lex’s nostrils flare and she cocks her
head to the side, considering.
“What am I forgiving, Rhett?” she asks with a sigh.
Her eyes are soft as she looks at me, and I grin. “So, remember when Mateo mentioned that
we ran across an omega?”
“You found her, didn’t you?” she asks, more of a statement than a question.
I nod. “She works at Grandmother Wila’s in Old Town. And she put together this stunning
arrangement for you.”
Lex nods her head slightly as she brushes a finger over a lilac blossom. A small smile pulls at
her red-tinted lips as she inhales deeply. It’s only there for a moment before it drops away into a
frown. “Is that really a good idea, Rhett? Considering everything...” she asks softly, trailing off.
My grin falls a little at the reluctance in her tone. I’d almost forgotten about him in the
excitement of meeting Lydia. But the look on Lex’s face, the shift toward bitter oranges in her mulled
wine scent, is enough to give me pause.
“Lex, if this is going to make you uncomfortable—”
“No, I’m not—if you want this, then I’m more than happy to support you. I just... we don’t
exactly have an exemplary track record with omegas,” Lex says, a little ironic chuckle creeping out at
the end.
“That has nothing to do with you, and I know you know that,” I chide, voice stern.
 “I do. An abundance of caution never hurt anyone, though. Omegas can be complicated,” Lex
says, her lips twisting into a concerned frown.
I shrug. “Some are, some aren’t.”
Lex lets out a sharp exhale. “I’d never stop you from doing what makes you happy, Rhett. But
for me, our pack has to come first, always. No one is allowed to tear us apart,” she states, her eyes
hardening to hazel ice.
Again. The silent word hangs between us for a long moment. I swallow and consider my reply
carefully.
“We may be putting the cart before the horse. I’m taking Lydia to Alice’s tomorrow. I’ll feel
her out, see if she’s open to what we have to offer, and get back to you,” I offer, leaning back.
“Lydia.” Lex says the name almost to herself, gently stroking a rose petal. “Honey and
vanilla?” she whispers, breathing deep again.
“I know. She smells like heaven.” I sigh, smiling a little.
Lex hums her agreement, closing her eyes briefly before looking back at me. “I’ll keep these
here for now. Is there something you actually need?”
“Is seeing your gorgeous face not reason enough?” I tease.
“Rhett—”
I cut her off with a laugh. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the Old Town stores. We
dropped the ball.”
And just like that, Lex, my alpha and one of my best friends, disappears, and Alexandra St.
Clair, CEO and queen of her domain, takes her place.

∞∞∞
Later that evening, I’m down in the lounge of the packhouse with Mateo and Lucas. Their
attention is firmly glued to the basketball game on the television. They banter back and forth about
different players and their stats, but I don’t follow the sport enough to know what any of it means. And
I’m thoroughly distracted by my text conversation with Lydia. I’d messaged earlier to confirm a good
time for dinner, but the conversation has since become a heated debate over which city has the best
food.
“What’s got you grinning like a fool, Coop?” Mateo teases, cutting through my dazed thoughts.
I flush, jumping at the sound of his voice. I look up to find him staring at me with a smug,
knowing smirk.
“Just… having a chat with a new friend,” I say, trying to act casual.
“So, I take it you got that date with the omega?” Lucas tosses, eyes still on the TV.
I glare at him, even if he doesn’t catch the look. He’s smirking, too. Bratty little shit stirrer.
“I did, Luc. We’re going to Alice’s tomorrow. I’d like the pack table for seven, if it’s all the
same,” I throw back, not letting them get the reaction they clearly wanted.
“Can you set that table for three? I think I’d like to meet her,” Mateo adds, turning his attention
back to the game.
I growl low in my throat, and Mateo’s eyes snap back to me, expression losing all of its
teasing humor.
“She’s skittish enough around alphas, Mat. I don’t want to push it,” I return evenly.
Lucas perks up at that, concern pulling his brow low over his eyes. “She going to be okay
meeting the rest of us? We are sort of a package deal.”
I sigh, looking down at my phone as it buzzes in my hand. Lydia sent a block of text explaining
why the food in New Orleans is better than New York City, but I turn off my phone screen and set it
on the couch for the moment. Our conversation has been light thus far, but I keep thinking back to that
flinch I saw when I kissed Lydia’s hand.
“I want to take things slow. I…” I trail off with a sigh.
Ever since that first meeting, something has been nagging in my gut whenever I think about
Lydia Anderson. She’s beautiful, and even our brief text conversations have been funny and flirty, but
never too deep. She diverts attention whenever I ask something deeper than a superlative, and her
cagey behavior should have me on edge. But instead, the only instincts I have are protective ones. I
want to push, to find out why I’m having such strong feelings, but this feels delicate. One wrong move
could send her running, and I don’t want that. Not when there are so many unanswered questions
buzzing through my head.
Mateo’s crestfallen expression softens something in me. He’s a romantic at heart, and it’s been
a while since he’s shown any interest in anything more than a one-night stand. I know that he’d do
right by Lydia, but I also know that Mateo doesn’t do anything in half measures.
“Does Lex know?” Lucas asks softly, almost hesitantly.
I swallow and sigh, nodding solemnly. Lucas’s face falls, and my heart twists at the
disappointment there. Mateo slumps back into the couch, his mouth pulled into a deep frown. I want to
reassure them, but false hope would help no one. I understand Lex’s hesitation, even if it makes me
equal parts furious and heartbroken when I think of the reason.
“She’s never going to be happy, even if this omega—”
“Lydia,” I interrupt.
Mateo nods before continuing. “Even if Lydia is the most magical unicorn omega ever, Lex is
going to self-sabotage. Again. And she’ll find every excuse until the rest of us have no choice but to
give up. Again.”
I snort derisively, but don’t say anything to disagree. I know she hates the nickname, but Mateo
doesn’t call her the Ice Queen for nothing. And as much as she’s our friend and this pack is a
partnership, at the end of the day, Lex is still the prime alpha, and we have to respect that.
“I mean… it’s still worth trying, right? Do you think there’s a shot?” Lucas asks hopefully,
looking to me.
I bite my lip as I consider. That is one of the many unanswered questions floating through my
head. Something in Lydia feels… different. Her eyes hold a wisdom that I don’t understand, but I want
to. Desperately. There’s a rightness to this, a settled feeling in my heart that I’ve only felt three times
before now. I’m not particularly superstitious, but my mother raised me on enough fairy stories to not
discount fate.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I spare a glance at the screen.

Lydia: I hope your silence is you taking the time to craft an apology for trying to say that a
Po’ Boy is the same as a sub.

I smirk, shaking my head a little as I smile to myself. Every time I think I have her figured out,
she does something to amaze and surprise me.
“Yeah. I think this one will be different,” I say softly, swiping my phone to start typing again.
I do have an apology to write, after all.
 Ten
Lydia

I stand in front of my small bathroom mirror, trying to see as much of my outfit as I can. I’d gone
through six different ones in my attempt to find something that would be first date appropriate, but not
too dressy. Men just didn’t understand that “casual” wasn’t a good enough dress code description. I’d
finally settled on a knee-length fit-and-flare vintage inspired dress with flats. The dress is navy blue
and patterned with pink hearts, with a belt that helps define my waist. It has elbow-length sleeves and
is light enough that the heat shouldn’t be a problem. I keep my makeup pretty minimal, and my hair is
up in a high ponytail, a section swooped a little on my forehead in keeping with the vintage style.
I check the time and my heart rate kicks into a higher gear. Rhett would be picking me up soon.
I’d spent the day cleaning my apartment, but I blame my weird hormones for that. I had no intention of
bringing an alpha into this space, and especially not an alpha like Rhett. I grab my bag and lock the
door behind me, going to wait near the front door of the building.
I only wait for a few minutes before I see his sleek sedan pull up to the curb. I step outside
and he smiles as he sees me and jumps out of the car to come around to my side. He’s dressed in dark
jeans and brown shoes, with a belt that matches. His shirt is a white button down with emerald green
on the inside of the collar.
“You look beautiful, love,” Rhett gushes, looking me up and down.
I blush under his gaze, looking at my shoes. “Not too bad yourself,” I mumble with a smile.
He chuckles and opens the passenger door. “Shall we?” he asks.
I nod and slide into the leather bucket seat. He gently shuts the door behind me and practically
jogs around to the other side. He pulls away from the curb with practiced ease. I take a few long
moments of silence, breathing in his scent. It’s warm tonight, full of dark chocolate and old books. I
can pick up the traces of whiskey and leather, but they’re faint. He’s pushing out calming pheromones
for me, and I fight the urge to preen at his thoughtfulness.
“Lex loved the flowers, by the way,” Rhett says into the silence.
“I’m glad,” I reply, looking out the window.
“Have you always wanted to be a florist?” he asks.
I shrug. “Not exactly. I went to school for event management.”
“Did you go to school around here?”
“I’m actually from Louisiana and went to a state school.”
“So that explains the accent I can pick up sometimes,” Rhett chuckles.
I snort derisively. “You’re one to talk. I cannot for the life of me figure out what your accent
is,” I throw back.
He laughs harder. “My mum calls it ‘bastard’s Irish.’”
I blink at him. “I’m sorry?” I sputter.
“Such a classy woman, my mother. She’s full-blooded Irish, and I was actually born in
Ireland. We moved to Massachusetts when I was but a wee babe, after she met me stepdad.
Sometimes I can barely understand Mum’s accent when she gets on a tear, but mine’s a bit softer,
seeing as I grew up and went through school in the states,” he says, playing up his lilting accent for
effect.
“So, your mom wasn’t bonded when she had you?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
“Nah, she’s actually an alpha, and my father was just a fling. I’ve only met the man a few
times, but Ben, her bond mate, has been my dad in all the ways that count,” he goes on, smiling a little
to himself.
I hum and consider that for a moment. Having a female alpha mother must have been tough
growing up, especially for a male alpha. My brothers always pushed back against our father and
practically walked all over my mother when they were teenagers. They were never particularly mean
to me, but indifference can be almost as cruel. My father never stopped them, even encouraging them
at times, and it left a bad taste in my mouth. But maybe not all alphas were raised to be pushy, entitled
knotheads?
“What about you?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Oh, you know. My parents were high school sweethearts. My mom’s an omega and her
parents made my dad jump through all the hoops during the courtship. But they’ve had the model
marriage, her raising me and my brothers while he runs his contracting business with his pack,” I say,
trying to keep the tension out of my voice.
“How many brothers?” he asks, and I turn my head at the genuine curiosity in his tone.
“Three, two older and one younger, and all alphas. Jason, my younger brother, and I are the
closest. He’s actually my Irish twin, no offense,” I add with a chuckle.
Rhett laughs back. “None taken. I have four sisters, so I know how it feels to be
outnumbered.”
“Are they alphas too?”
“Just my baby sister, Amelia. Katie, Tessa, and Jenny are betas, but I dare anyone to try to tell
them that.”
We share another laugh and spend the rest of the ride talking about the struggles of growing up
in such big families. Rhett has more aunts and uncles than I do, thanks to his mother’s seven siblings.
He shares stories about the crazy things that he and his cousins did at family reunions, and I lose track
of time.
Before I know what happened, we’re pulling up to a parking lot of the restaurant. The lot is
busy, and we park in a spot near the back. Rhett dashes around the car to open the door for me, and I
tense, waiting for the sudden movement or entitled touch. But Rhett simply extends his hand in my
direction, keeping his movement in my field of view and stopping well short of my personal space.
My heart does a somersault, and I slide my hand into his much larger one and allow him to help me to
my feet and hold my hand as we cross the parking lot.
Alice’s Kitchen is a two-story brick building with dramatically uplit metal pillars spaced
evenly along the front facade. To the right of the main entrance, there’s a covered patio on the first
level, and a balcony above it, both with full tables of diners. Rhett opens the door into an atrium
packed with people waiting for seating. He squeezes my hand as we push through to the hostess
station. The slightly frazzled looking brunette girl manning the podium looks up at our approach, and
then relaxes, giving Rhett a dazzling smile.
“Welcome back, Mr. Cooper. We have your table all set for you,” she chirps.
Something inside me tenses at her batting lashes and coquettish smile. But Rhett gives my hand
a quick but gentle squeeze, and I relax again.
“Thank you, Julia,” Rhett responds politely.
Julia grabs two menus and turns into the restaurant. The smooth concrete floors accent
exposed brick walls and reclaimed wood beams on the ceiling. The bar to the right of the entrance is
a warm honey color and lit with hanging Edison bulb fixtures. Mismatched chairs surround the tables
in the center of the floor, and the booth seats are leather couches. The industrial-but-homey feeling
extends to the second floor, and a second bar takes up the wall between the two open doors out to the
balcony. Julia turns away from them and leads us around a huge free-standing fireplace that serves to
divide the space and into a much quieter area beyond it. There are only a few occupied tables here,
and we’re seated at a corner table away from them.
Julia flashes another smile at Rhett before setting the menus down. I swallow a frown when
she doesn’t even look at me as she asks for a drink order. That little kernel of tension in my gut returns
but disappears quickly as Rhett pays her next to no mind.
“Would you like something to drink, love?” Rhett asks, stepping around the table to pull out
my chair.
I blush under the intensity of his attention, but don’t miss Julia’s frown as I sit.
“Gin and ginger ale, please,” I reply with a small smile.
“And a Manhattan for me, please, Julia,” Rhett says, and even I can’t ignore the dismissal in
his tone.
The hostess gives us another tense smile before she leaves. Rhett takes the chair next to me,
sitting so we both partially have our backs to the wall. I look over the menu until our drinks arrive,
along with the server.
“Good to see you again, Rhett. Do you want something specific, or should I let Luc surprise
you?” she asks, pulling out her pen.
I blink at the strange opener, and Rhett smiles. “Luc is the head chef,” he explains as I open
my mouth to ask.
My jaw snaps closed, and I purse my lips as I consider. Rhett mentioned a chef here owing him a
favor. Is it Luc? Rhett gives me a searching look, and I shift in my chair. Rhett is clearly a regular
here, and I’m feeling out of my depth. My instincts aren’t screaming any warnings at me, but I can tell
there’s more to this story and I don’t enjoy feeling at a disadvantage.
“Lottie, can you give us a minute?” Rhett asks, eyes never leaving my face.
The server agrees and moves off, leaving a gaping pit of silence between Rhett and me. For the
first time all evening, it’s awkward, and each heartbeat stretches the tension tighter. Rhett is studying
me intensely, and I try to understand his expression. His scent is neutral, old paper and ink, and his
eyes flash with curiosity and something I can’t quite identify. At last, he reaches into his pocket,
fishing around for a moment before pulling something out and setting it on the table next to my
silverware.
I look down, blinking at the silver coin. “What is this?”
“Penny for your thoughts?” Rhett asks hopefully.
I look back up at him, brow furrowed. “But this is a quarter,” I say slowly.
“I’m hoping the increase in currency will bribe honesty out of you,” Rhett replies, tone completely
serious.
I swallow a chuckle, shaking my head with a small smile. “Okay. I’m thinking that this isn’t the
sort of date I’m used to going on,” I admit.
“Do you go on a lot of dinner dates?” Rhett asks, and I see that flash of emotion in his eyes again,
white hot for an instant before it disappears.
“Well, not really. But I’ve never been on one where my date knows the staff by name.”
Rhett shrugs. “Touché. Would it make you feel better if I say that this is the first time I’ve brought
a date here?”
I blink. I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to form words. “Do you go on a lot of
dinner dates?” I parrot.
But even as I speak the words and Rhett throws his head back and laughs, I feel a sudden bolt of
heat in my chest when I picture Rhett on a date with someone else. It isn’t quite jealousy, but it’s
close. But I check the feeling, shoving it roughly to the side. I have no business having that emotion.
Rhett calms a little, looking at me with a wide smile. “Honestly, not really. Life has been…
complicated for me recently. But I’m glad that I’m breaking my drought with you.”
I blush hotly, looking away from the piercing blue gaze across from me. My stomach starts up a
tap dance routine, and I clear my throat to gather my composure. Rhett chuckles to himself, and when I
look back at him, his smile is softer.
“So, what did you do for Luc that made him owe you a favor?” I say, trying to steer the
conversation away.
“It’s more that Lucas owes me for not kicking his bratty ass to the curb every time he gets in a
mood,” Rhett scoffs, rolling his eyes at his own private joke.
I blink at him. “Wait, what?” I blurt.
Rhett smiles knowingly at me. “Lucas is part of my pack, love.”
Oh. Oh. That gossip magazine article flashes through my mind, and my jaw falls open.
“This is one of Lucas Klausen’s restaurants?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Have you been stalking me, love?” Rhett asks, his tone playful.
“No, I haven’t been stalking you,” I bluster, my cheeks heating even more.
Rhett throws his head back and laughs again. “It’d be okay if you had. But to answer your
question, technically, this is my restaurant. Or at least, I’m the owner on paper. Lucas is the kitchen
manager here, so he runs the kitchen, curates the menu, and works with the restaurant manager to keep
the doors open and tables full.”
“What about the—”
“Fancy ones? He does own those, but mostly leaves the everyday operations to others. Luc
owns three standalone restaurants and works really closely with the management of the hotels and
Bright Hills on the menus and what have you. He tends to bounce around, filling in where he’s
needed, but this is his primary location,” Rhett goes on, pride in his eyes.
“How does he have time to sleep?” I ask, unable to keep the astonishment out of my voice.
“I have to tie him down and make him some days. But I thought you and I were on this date,”
Rhett says.
I blush at the absolute seriousness of his voice as he casually mentions tying someone to a
bed, and I feel my lower belly clench. I clear my throat and turn back to the menu.
“Do you order a surprise meal often?” I ask, looking at my options.
He shrugs with one shoulder. “If there’s a dish that Luc wants to test before adding it to the
menu, I’ll try it, or if I’m not having a craving for anything in particular,” Rhett says.
I smile and soften a little. We place our order, a seafood pasta dish for me, and Rhett decides
to let Lucas choose. Conversation picks up again, and I learn that they actually named this restaurant
after Rhett’s grandmother, whose kitchen door was always open to anyone who needed a hot meal. In
her honor, any food waste that can be salvaged is donated, and the restaurant acts as a soup kitchen
for the homeless once a month.
Talk is easy with Rhett, and I find myself lost in the flow of his voice more than once as he
tells me about his life. I knew from the article that he owns a building and design firm, but he tells me
that designing houses is half of his job. The other half is research into historic buildings that are being
considered for restoration, trying to find photos and accounts of how the buildings used to look to aid
in bringing them back to their former glory.
I tell him about my childhood growing up in a small town about an hour from New Orleans.
The pack I grew up in is old-fashioned in the extreme, though I’d only realized this after I left. Most
modern packs are made up of friends or lovers who, more often than not, had the same designation.
Marriage laws are still catching up with the times, and allow for just one legally recognized spouse,
and bonds can only be formed between alphas and their betas/omegas. Forming a pack has become a
suitable alternative for people who want a deeper connection with those that they wouldn’t otherwise
be able to marry or bond with. Pack mates have some of the same legal rights as spouses or bond
mates, though the exact details of the specific tax benefits never really interested me enough to bother
remembering them.
My family, however, has stuck to a fundamentalist, outdated version of pack dynamics,
subscribing to a rigid hierarchy that’s more dogma than anything beneficial. As the eldest, my father is
the prime alpha, with his omega mate and wife. His two alpha brothers, with their respective beta
mates and wives, and his beta sister and her beta husband, are under him. My brothers and I are
beneath my aunts and uncles, with the rest of the cousins below us. There are some business
associates and employees in the pack, but they are at the very bottom of the pecking order. I’m one of
three omega children born into the family pack, with one other omega marrying her way in through a
cousin. I never spent much time with any of my extended family growing up, even the omegas, as my
dad was always weirdly paranoid about other alphas being around “his omegas.”
Rhett always looks me in the face when I speak, giving me his undivided attention without
judgement or interruption. His questions always feel considered, and my chest is warm and light as he
makes me feel heard. When he responds to my stories with his own anecdotes, it never feels like he’s
trying to one-up me, but just relating to my experience with his own. He laughs at even my stupidest
jokes, and I sit a little straighter, leaning toward him, captivated.
“So, have you ever been in love?” Rhett asks when there’s a brief lull.
I freeze, my smile slipping for a moment. I pull my hands into my lap and sit back in my chair.
“Aren’t past relationships one of those topics that you’re not supposed to talk about on a first date?
Like politics or religion?” I ask back, chuckling nervously.
“I suppose. But you can be in love without being in a romantic relationship,” he counters,
taking a sip of his drink.
I shrug, conceding a little to his point. “I thought I was in love once. He wanted to get
married,” I admit, playing with the edge of my napkin in my lap.
“And I take it you didn’t?” Rhett asks gently.
I shake my head. “Not to him. He wasn’t who I thought he was. I thought the bad bits were the
exception, but it turned out that the nice guy was the mask all along. It took rejecting his proposal to
find that out.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Lydia,” Rhett says softly, taking my hand from my lap
and holding it on top of the table. He rubs my knuckles with his thumb, and I feel the tension leaving
my stomach at the soothing touch.
I shrug. “What about you?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“I am in love right now,” he replies without missing a beat.
I furrow my brow. “Then why am I here?” I ask hesitantly.
“Because no one person should be solely responsible for another’s happiness and wellbeing,”
Rhett replies.
He pulls his hand away as our food arrives, giving Lottie a small smile. I wait until she’s out
of earshot before turning back to Rhett.
“I don’t understand. If you’re in love, it means that you’ve found your other half, doesn’t it,” I
question as I start to eat.
“People aren’t jigsaw puzzles, love. We don’t have missing pieces, and, even if we did, I
don’t think it’s fair to look for them in another person. It’s setting both parties up for bitterness and
heartache when one inevitably asks for something the other can’t give,” Rhett says, cutting into some
sort of steak dish.
I hum with a frown, taking a bite as I consider his point. But my mind gets immediately
sidetracked as a culinary explosion fills my mouth. I let out a small moan, closing my eyes as I chew.
The scallops and shrimp are bursting with flavor, and not even the slightest bit rubbery, while the
sauce adds just the right level of texture and flavor to round out the bite. I look back at Rhett and see
he’s staring at me, his fork halfway to his mouth. I blush a little at the blazing heat flickering his eyes,
tucking my chin to my chest as I swallow.
“It’s really good,” I mumble, taking another small bite.
Rhett seems to shake himself before smiling and finishes taking his bite. We eat in silence for
another few minutes, and I think more about what Rhett said. It has always seemed like a lot of
pressure to put on one person when you fall in love. You’re asking them to deal with every facet of
your personality, even the ones that aren’t pleasant. And, more times than not, if there are parts that
don’t fit, you have to give up those parts of yourself if you want to coexist.
“So, when you say you’re in love, what do you mean?” I ask after a long moment.
Rhett puts his fork down and turns in his chair to face me more fully.
“I’m in love with Lucas. He pushes me, keeps me from becoming complacent in my
relationships, and makes me work to be better for him. I’m in love with my best friend, Mateo. We’ve
been together for years, and he’s my business partner, and my brother in all but blood. His endless
energy and creativity works well with my drive to innovate and do the impossible. I’m in love with
my pack leader, Lex. She grounds me and her generosity makes me remember those less fortunate and
keeps me humble. I’m in love with each of them, but in unique ways. They give me fulfillment and joy,
without having to be someone they aren’t. And I’d like to think that I give them the same in return,”
Rhett explains, patient and calm.
“And how do I fit in?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Rhett’s answering smile is kind, and I melt a little under it. “I don’t know yet, Lydia. But, if
you’re willing, I’d like to find out.”
 Eleven
Lydia

Our conversation is light as we finish our meal, but I can’t get Rhett’s words out of my head. He’s
absolutely right about there being different kinds of love, and how unfair it is to expect one person to
provide all of them. I think about my relationship with Jason. He gives me the steady, unconditional
love of family, but he could never be a true protector and provider in the ways my instincts crave.
Gabby has been my rock through many storms, my ride-or-die, willing to go to the mat to protect me. I
love her dearly, but it’s always going to be platonic between us for many reasons. It doesn’t mean that
the love I have for them is lesser, just different from romantic love.
“Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to stop over and see what you thought about your
dinner,” an unfamiliar male voice says, pulling me from my thoughts.
I look up at the sound and draw in a sharp breath. The man standing before us is beautiful,
with dark, slightly sweat-damp hair that curls a little at the ends. It falls over his brow into his blue-
gray eyes, and his dark lashes look like they jumped right out of a mascara ad. He’s clean shaven,
with sharp cheekbones and an impressive jawline. He’s lanky with legs for days, but I can see the
slight bulge of muscles under the sleeves of his white jacket. His scent washes over me, and I can’t
help the little sigh that escapes my throat as I relax. This beta smells of freshly laundered towels and
summer campfires, smoky with hints of chocolate and marshmallows. My mouth waters slightly, but I
swallow as I realize Rhett is staring at me, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Lydia, this is Lucas, my beta,” Rhett says, and I swear I hear a hint of laughter in his tone.
I clear my throat and look back at Lucas. “It’s nice to meet you. Dinner was wonderful,” I say,
tucking my chin a little.
“I’m so glad you liked it. Did Rhett let you have any of his? I’m experimenting with a new dry
rub for beef,” Lucas asks, eager and genuine.
“I was going to ask about that. I tasted the white pepper and garlic, but why was it so sweet?”
Rhett asks, his attention turning to Lucas as his brow furrows.
“I’m trying to see if I can use powdered dehydrated pineapple chunks as a tenderizer, rather
than just using the enzyme. Was it too sweet? I’m not sure of the ratio yet,” Lucas admits, rubbing the
back of his neck.
I watch them discuss Rhett’s meal and Lucas’s work, absolutely transfixed. Lucas is still
standing, but Rhett’s body is turned in his seat toward him, one leg crossed elegantly over the other.
Their smiles are so easy, and I can practically see the sparks flying between them as they gently tease
each other in the way that only lovers can.
Why do I want to be between them?
The thought makes my lower belly clench almost painfully. My experience in the bedroom has
been fairly vanilla, and involving multiple partners hasn’t been something I’d given myself
permission to think about. But the image of Rhett and Lucas together, both of their hands on my body,
in my hair, lips gliding over my stomach and lower—
Rhett’s gaze snaps to me, stopping mid-sentence. “Lydia?” he asks.
Lucas looks at me then, and I see his nostrils flare. Oh no. He looks me up and down once,
and I shiver under his assessing look. I can feel Rhett’s eyes on the side of my face as I keep Lucas’s
gaze. There’s a challenge there, and I hold my ground. A sparkle in the depths of Lucas’s eyes makes
my head tilt to one side, and I school my features into innocence. His scent turns smoky, almost with a
hint of pine, and his pouty lips pull up in a slow, sensual smile.
“See something you like, sweetheart?” Lucas questions, head tilting down to look at me more
fully.
“Could ask you the same thing, sweetheart,” I return, mouth working before my brain.
Lucas’s chuckle is dark, low in his throat, and the sound goes right down my spine to settle
between my thighs. Rhett’s gaze feels nearly molten on the side of my face, but I don’t look away from
the challenge in Lucas’s eyes.
“You are different, aren’t you,” Lucas mumbles, almost to himself.
“I’ve been called worse.” I shrug, trying to let my flash of confusion show in my voice.
Lucas hums his response, mouth sliding down into a serious line for a few heartbeats before
that joking slash of a smirk makes its return. Test passed, it seems.
“I’ll let you get back to it, then. It was wonderful to meet you, Lydia. Let’s do this again soon,
when we’ve got more time to really get to know each other,” Lucas purrs.
My thighs clench with the promise laced through every word. Rhett growls, and Lucas’s gaze
slides languidly to the alpha. I follow his look and barely hold back another whine. Rhett’s eyes are
dark, a fist clenched on the table. He’s looking at Lucas with enough heat to set the beta’s clothes on
fire. It’s not anger—there’s too much molten desire in his eyes for that—but there’s a tension in his
posture that makes me want to drop my gaze and expose my throat in submission. Lucas doesn’t back
down; if anything, he seems to be laughing at his own private joke. Rhett tilts his head, the motion of a
predator assessing prey. Why is that so attractive?
“If she ever decides she wants to play, you know I’m always open to whatever games you can
come up with, sir,” Lucas says, his voice a husky whisper that goes straight to the apex of my thighs.
“That’s enough, Lucas. You and I will have a talk when you get home,” Rhett says, tone sharp
with no room for disobedience.
Lucas gives me a wink before turning and heading back to the kitchen. Rhett turns to me, and
while I can still see the heat in his eyes, his brow is pulled down in concern.
“I’m so sorry for that. Lucas can be…”
“What did he mean by ‘if I want to play’?” I ask, unable to help myself.
Rhett lets out a heavy sigh, giving me a long, searching look. I bite my lower lip, shifting a
little in my seat. I look down at the table and see the quarter still sitting next to my place setting, and
gently push it across the table. He follows my finger with his eyes, chuckling under his breath as he
looks at the coin for a long moment after I’ve pulled my hand back.
“This is hardly something I thought we’d be discussing on our first date, and definitely not in
public,” he says, voice low.
I give him a small, encouraging smile. “We can take a drive, talk in the car?” I suggest.
Rhett tilts his head to the side for a moment, considering. Then he nods once, almost to
himself, before he pulls his wallet from his pocket and tosses a few bills on the table, more than the
meal would have cost. He stands and offers me his hand, and I find it easy now to slide my palm
against his. We’re silent on the walk back to the car, and Rhett even ignores Julia as she tries to catch
his attention from the hostess station. Rhett’s silence and reluctance to answer my questions has me on
edge. What could be so bad that it would be off-limits in public? My nerves grow with every step we
take, and I feel wound tighter than a piano by the time we’re pulling out of the parking lot.
 Rhett is silent for a long while, and I let him think, staring out the window and watching the
city go by. I’m actively fighting my imagination as it tries to spin different explanations for Rhett’s
reluctance, and what Lucas could have possibly meant when he talked about “playing.”
“How much do you know about dominance and submission?” Rhett asks at last.
I blink, my thoughts stopping in their tracks. I sag back against the leather seat, trying not to be
disappointed. “The usual. Omegas submit to alphas, because they were designed to do so, and their
nature makes them crave it. Alphas can force an omega, or any designation really, to obey them with
their bark and they expect a certain amount of general deference from others, but especially from
omegas. It can be upsetting for an alpha if their commands are ignored or disobeyed,” I explain, tone
flat. It was the line my parents fed me my whole life, drilled into me from as far back as I can
remember.
Rhett lets out a startled bark of laughter, making me jump a little. “We’re going to put a pin in
that, because we do not have time to unpack that archaic bullshit. I meant, how much do you know
about dominance and submission in the bedroom? As part of a sexual relationship?”
My head whips around, my cheeks flaming with sudden heat. “Um… like whips and chains
and all that?” I stutter, unable to ignore the rush of wetness between my legs as my mind runs away
from me.
Images of Rhett above me, my hands bound tight as he wrings pleasure from my helpless body,
flash in my mind’s eye. I want to reject the idea outright, but the mere thought of being at Rhett’s
mercy has my body buzzing. My mind stops short at the idea of being in that position, helpless and
unable to escape, the panic flooding my system effectively making my fantasy fizzle out.
“It can be, but that’s more window dressing than substance. At its heart, it’s about a power
exchange between the dominant and submissive. The submissive agrees to obey their dominant and, in
exchange, the dominant provides rewards for good behavior. It’s not always sexual, with some
dynamics being more about providing a structured environment and discipline with no sex involved at
all. But the intimate power exchange during sex is something certain people find arousing,” Rhett
explains, his tone even.
“So, the submissive has to do whatever the dominant wants?” I ask incredulously, trying not to
feel disappointed my fears were correct.
But Rhett’s next words derail my thought spiral. “Oh, God, no. Limits are negotiated before a
dynamic is established, sometimes formally with written agreements, other times with just a simple
discussion. But all play is predicated on those limits, and those can change over time. It’s all about
communication.”
“So… the submissive can tell their partner no? That’s allowed?”
Rhett’s eyes snap to me, concern pulling his face into a frown. He looks back to the road,
swallowing hard.
“Absolutely. And the dominant can tell their submissive no, too. The game only works if all
parties are playing by the same rules, or else someone could get hurt. Continual, enthusiastic consent
should be the foundation for any relationship, but it’s especially important in a dynamic. The
submissive is putting their body and mind in the hands of their dominant, and that isn’t something that
should be done lightly, or be taken for granted,” he explains.
I nod, looking down to where my hands are clasped tight in my lap. His words are so simple,
almost bordering on common sense, but they still rock me to my core. The concept of consent isn’t
foreign, but to have a man, an alpha, be so insistent about it does something to me. My heart flutters,
stomach doing a jig to match. There’s a warmth in my core, a feeling of peace and safety that catches
me off guard with its strength.
Rhett pulls into a well-lit parking lot near a park. The sun set a little while ago, and the last of
the light is fading. He shuts the car off and turns in his seat to look at me. I glance at him through my
lashes, head bowed slightly. I wring my hands in my lap, waiting for him to speak.
“Lucas was out of line to bring this up tonight, Lydia, and I cannot apologize enough for it. I’ll
admit that being with you, talking with you, feels as easy as breathing, but I have to remind myself you
barely know me. And the things we would need to discuss in order to have an informed conversation
about limits can be unpleasant, especially if you’ve been through trauma in your past,” Rhett says, his
voice low, the car filling with the soothing scent of old paper and ink.
I relax a little, taking a deep breath. He’s right; it feels like I’ve known Rhett for years, but
we’ve only had a few conversations. I feel a little ache in my shoulder, and I reach up to lay my hand
on the mark there that feels like a brand under his inspection. Yeah, I’m definitely not ready to explain
that yet. I nod a little, turning my head to look at him fully.
“But you want to have that discussion with me?” I ask softly.
Rhett inhales sharply, his eyes going wide. I see the blush coloring his cheekbones as he looks
away from me for a moment. “When the time is right, and you feel you’re ready. I don’t want to rush
you into anything,” he says, almost like he’s talking more to himself than to me.
“I know, and I really appreciate that. But I can’t say my interest isn’t the slightest bit piqued,”
I say with a small giggle.
He looks back at me for a long moment before a sly grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is it
now? Which part are you interested in, love?” he asks, his voice husky.
My mouth goes dry as the smell of whiskey fills the car. I take a shaky breath, trying to focus.
“Rewards, pleasurable ones, especially,” I whisper.
“Hmm, well you should know, only good girls get rewards,” he says, voice dropping by
nearly a full octave.
My spine straightens of its own will, and I try to hide the hitch in my breath at his tone. I feel
my pussy clenching, wetness pooling in my panties. My chest is tight as I sit under his stare, trying to
reel my thoughts back in.
“Well, isn’t that interesting,” he purrs, eyes raking slowly up and down my body.
My nipples tighten, his gaze like a phantom touch on my heated skin. I pant a little, a shiver
running down my spine as our eyes connect again. His pupils are blown wide, a narrow strip of blue
barely visible around them. My dreams were nothing compared to the heady, drunk feeling of
breathing his scent in such an enclosed space. My clothes feel uncomfortable against my skin, and I
feel the sweat pooling in the hollows of my back and cleavage. He lets out a long breath, closing his
eyes. When he opens them again, his gaze is shuttered, this new smile tight.
“No, not tonight, but not because you don’t deserve it,” Rhett says, turning back to face front.
My heart flip-flops in my chest at his words, but I can’t help but pout as I turn around as well.
I stare out the window for the ride back to my apartment building, trying to get my body back under
control. I scold myself thoroughly, shame at my reaction to him sitting sourly in my gut. One look and I
was just about ready to jump across the center console and climb him like a tree, like some kind of
desperate idiot. I grow increasingly sullen, and by the time we pull up to the curb in front of my
building, I’m ready to bolt. I open the door and climb out the moment Rhett puts the car in park. I hear
him calling my name, but I grab my bag from the floorboard and slide out without looking at him.
I’m at the front door, my hand on the handle, when I’m spun back around by my elbow. I gasp
as I find myself inches away from Rhett’s chest. My eyes are wide with surprise, and I look up at him.
I open my mouth, an apology on the tip of my tongue, but then one of his hands is cupping my jaw,
tilting my head up as his lips collide with mine. I freeze for a moment, eyes still open in shock, but he
presses a little harder and my resistance melts away.
His other hand moves to my hip, holding me against him as my hands come to rest on his hard
chest, my eyes sliding closed with a little moan. He growls at the sound, and my stomach dips and
toes curl. He pulls me to my tiptoes, the hand at my jaw sliding back to card into the hair at the base
of my skull. His lips are soft, moving against mine with delicious insistence. I gasp as he moves
forward, pushing my back against the wall to the side of the door, and he slips his tongue between my
parted lips. He tastes like whiskey, smooth and warm, making my head spin. I fist my hands in his
shirt and break away, gasping for air. His lips travel to my ear, kisses trailing with his movements.
His beard is soft, but the scrape against my skin makes me shiver.
“Do not think for one moment, little one, that I don’t want to give you what you desire.
Because I do, probably more than is wise at this point. But what I’m going to ask from you in return
will require you to trust me, and me to trust you. And that will take time. Do you understand?” Rhett
breathes, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
I whine at the sensation, eyes closing as I press my chest closer to him, nodding frantically. He
chuckles, kissing me lightly on the side of my neck. The hand on my hip tightens, and Rhett pulls his
face back to look me in the eye. His hand leaves my hair and takes my chin between his thumb and
finger. I open my eyes, finding him smiling at me. My chest is heaving, but I feel myself coming down
from the high of his kiss, even as my skin prickles at his touch.
“Patience, little one,” he says, pressing a brief, almost chaste kiss to my lips.
I frown, slumping back as I fight against the storm of disappointment and anticipation in my
chest. He chuckles, shaking his head a little.
“Good girls don’t pout,” he says, releasing my chin to tap the tip of my nose with a finger.
I bite my lower lip at the stern edge to his tone, and I feel a pulse in my core at the heat in his
eyes. I want my first reaction to his silent scolding to be defiance, but the settled feeling in my chest
returns as I give in and drop my playful pout. I’ll have to think on that reaction later, when I’m not
wrapped in this alpha’s whiskey-and-leather aura.
“Would it be too much to ask for one more kiss before you go?” I ask hopefully, looking up
into his face.
His smile is practically incandescent as he looks down at me. “Since you asked so sweetly,”
he says, pressing his lips to mine, turning my knees to jelly.
We pull away, and I giggle, feeling lighter than I have in months. His smile widens at the
sound, his scent strong with dark chocolate and whiskey.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at Wila’s, sir,” I say, moving to open the door.
“Lydia,” he growls, and I turn back to him, surprised by the heat in his tone. His gaze is
molten, and I clear my throat.
“What? Lucas said it,” I murmur, scuffing my feet.
“Lucas is a brat, and his behavior should not be emulated if your goal is to be rewarded,”
Rhett says, words laced with both challenge and warning.
I squeak a little, and nod rapidly, earning a rumble of approval from deep in Rhett’s chest.
And why does that sound make me want to do a happy dance?
“Goodnight, Lydia. Sweet dreams,” Rhett says, stepping back from the stoop.
I feel another rush of wetness in my core as I whisper my farewell, practically sprinting into
the building and up the stairs before I can cave and show him exactly how sweet my dreams have
been since I met him.
 Twelve
Lydia

“Wake up, little one,” Rhett’s voice purrs in my ear, and I moan at the sound.
I feel his warmth at my back, one arm snaking under my neck and across my chest, the
other sliding along my waist and pulling me back against him. I feel his hard cock against my ass
and moan, rolling my hips against it. His chuckle is dark, breath hot against the side of my face. I
tip my head back, eyes closing as I try to shift my hips against his length. Each brush of his fingers
sends lightning across my body, goosebumps rising over every inch he touches.
“Patience, little one. All in good time. But first, I need to taste you,” Rhett says, kissing my
neck lightly.
The hand on my waist drifts down, ghosting over the patch of curls between my thighs. I lift
my leg, hitching it back over his hips to allow his hand better access. I gasp as the pads of his
fingers brush feather light against my outer lips. My heart is a wild thing trapped in the cage of
my ribs, and my whole body throbs with its frantic beating. Every place where Rhett’s body touches
mine burns, the heat spreading with each passing moment.
“So eager, already dripping for me,” Rhett coos, and I smile under his praise.
He gently parts my folds, his middle finger dipping shallowly into my core for a moment,
gathering my slick before withdrawing. I whine, opening my eyes at the loss of contact, only to see
Rhett bring his finger to his mouth and sucking it clean. I moan, my pussy pulsing as his growl
vibrates against my back.
“Sweet, just like my sweet girl,” he says, and I shudder.
His hand dives back down to my pussy, two fingers sliding deep. My keening whine turns
into a moan of pleasure as he pumps his hand inside of me, curling his fingers at the exact spot to
make me see stars. My hips move in time with his thrusts, fucking myself down onto his hand. Rhett
moves the hand around my chest to my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers in tandem with
the hand in my pussy. I can barely breathe around the intense waves of pleasure his touch pulls
from my body. My breathy moans escape my throat, growing louder with each meeting of his hand
and my hips. His hand on my breasts, the way his fingers roll and tweak my nipple, adds to the
rising tide in my belly. I clutch his arm, nails digging into his skin as I scramble for something to
hold on to as Rhett works me to a fever pitch.
“Are you going to be a good girl and come all over my hand?” Rhett’s breathing has turned
short, and I feel him grinding his cock against me, pre-cum sticky against my skin.
I nod, so close to release. I can feel it just out of reach, and I whine. Rhett chuckles and his
hand stills, fingers deep inside my clenching pussy. The heel of his palm rubs hard against my clit,
and his teeth scrape against the skin of my neck. I gasp, back bowing, but Rhett’s arm around my
ribcage keeps me trapped against his body. He snarls in my ear, and my body feels hot enough to
set fire to the bed. Rhett’s hand works harder, faster, deeper and—
“Come for me, Lydia,” Rhett growls, that dangerous edge enough to push me screaming
over the edge.
 I wake with a jolt, and for a moment I’m confused why I can’t feel another warm body in bed
with me. The endorphins from my orgasm rush under my skin, and my pussy is fluttering with the
aftershocks. I realize then, with no small amount of horror, my hand is between my legs, and my thighs
are coated with my cream. I sit up, and find my bed is damp with it, a dark spot under my hips. A
glance out of my windows reveals that it’s the middle of the night, the only light in my apartment
coming from the orange glow of the distant streetlights. Flushed and unable to stand it a moment
longer, I strip out of the thin tank top I’d worn to bed.
I flop back down against the pillows, trying to get my racing heart under control. I kick off the
blankets, too warm under so many layers. The echoes of pleasure from my dream fade fast, and I’m
left empty and aching. Lying naked in the middle of my bed, trying not to replay that incredible dream,
I count the days in my head. And sure enough, my heat is three weeks early. I’d usually start having
extra urges around the beginning of April, and I’d be out of commission for a few days by the middle
of the month. But it seems that my cycle has gone rogue, and I’m hitting that stretch of days where all
I’m going to want to do is sleep and fuck way ahead of schedule.
The wet spot under me gets too uncomfortable after a moment, and I groan as I roll out of bed.
As I go to stand, I whine as a stabbing pain pulses through me, knots twisting in my lower belly. I
double over, trying to take slow, shaky breaths until the cramp passes. It takes several long moments
for enough of the pain to subside so I can stand again. I move toward the tote of spare bedding in the
corner, and I’m hit by a sudden wave of dizziness as I bend down to open it. I scramble to the
bathroom, barely able to make it to the toilet before my dinner makes a second appearance.
Once I flush, I curl up on the bathroom floor, the cramps returning. I shiver as I lay there
naked, but don’t move as I breathe through the agony. The cool tiles feel good against my overheated
skin. I close my eyes as my vision blurs and the room spins before me. The next thing I know, my eyes
fly open at the sound of my morning alarm. I’m able to make it to the floor beside my bed and shut off
my alarm before another wave hits me. My heat cramps haven’t been this bad since college, and I
can’t remember a time I’ve ever been this nauseous. I send a quick message to Gabby to let her know
I won’t be in today, and I’m about to call the omega health clinic when messages from Rhett appear
on my phone.

Rhett Cooper: Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?

Rhett Cooper: I’ll be at Grandmother Wila’s around 10am today. Would you like me to bring
you some coffee?

I groan as I swallow the urge to vomit again, closing my eyes against a wave of dizziness. I
take several breaths and type out my response once the world has stopped spinning.

Me: I won’t be in today. I’m not feeling well. Sorry.

Rhett Cooper: Oh no, Lydia. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can get you?
Me: Not your fault. I’m going to call the clinic and just rest for a few days. It’ll pass.
Rhett Cooper: Oh. I see.
Rhett Cooper: Do you have anyone there to help you?
Me: I’m going to see what the clinic says, but I’ll be fine.
Rhett Cooper: Okay. Let me know if you need anything at all. Please remember to drink
water and eat, okay?
 My stomach lurches into my throat, and I throw my phone away and dash to the bathroom
before I can type out a reply. Only bile comes up this time, but my head clears enough for me to stand
and rinse my mouth in the bathroom sink. It takes me a minute to find where my phone landed, and I
dial the number to the omega clinic. I throw up again while I’m on hold, waiting for a doctor to
answer. I’m leaning against the bathroom wall, knees pulled up against another twist of pain when the
hold music ends and a voice comes through.
“This is Dr. Miller. Am I speaking with Lydia Anderson?” an older female voice answers.
“Yes.” I cough, closing my eyes as the room spins.
“Hi. What seems to be the trouble today?” she asks, polite and professional.
“I’ve been taking heat suppressants according to my prescription, but I’m having really bad
symptoms. I’ve thrown up three times since midnight, and I’m dizzy, and the cramps are the worst I’ve
had in years,” I say, gritting my teeth, sweat beading on my forehead.
“Oh my, that sounds awful. I’m looking at your chart and the last time you saw us, you marked
yourself as unbonded. Is that still the case?” Dr. Miller questions, and I can hear the clicking of a
mouse in the background.
I grunt out an affirmative response, closing my eyes and breathing through my nose.
“Have you been around any alphas lately?” she asks, her tone shifting.
“I don’t—I mean, yeah. I went on a date with one last night, but I don’t understand why that
matters,” I snap, patience running thin.
“Well, since you’ve been on suppressants for so long, and being as you’re a little on the older
side to still be unbonded, your body may be rejecting the medicine because of the presence of a
compatible mate,” she explains, and her patronizing sets my teeth to grinding.
“I’ve only known him for less than a week,” I spit through my teeth.
“Your body doesn’t know that.” She sighs.
I swallow my scream of frustration. “Can I just take more suppressants to make it stop?” I ask,
fighting through a sudden rush of heat that makes my whole body sweat.
“How long have you had symptoms? Feeling flushed? A little more excited than normal?” she
asks in return.
I think back, taking deep breaths. “A few days. My dreams have been extra… vivid for about
a week, but I’ve been feeling out of sorts since this past Monday,” I reply.
“Unfortunately, hun, taking more suppressants won’t really help much at this point. I’d still
recommend taking your normal dose, as it’ll help keep you lucid, but there’s not much more you can
do on your own except keep hydrated, eat if you can, and wait it out,” she says, and the fake sympathy
in her voice grates on my already frayed nerves.
“If it gets any worse, should I go to a hospital?” I ask, trying to remain calm.
“If you aren’t able to keep anything down for more than forty-eight hours, you’re going to need
to come in. We can sedate you and make sure you get the necessary fluids and nutrients. But it would
be risky for you to travel alone in your condition. You absolutely can if you need to, but it might be
safer to find someone to help you at home.” Dr. Miller’s voice trails off and I know she can hear my
teeth grinding.
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” I snap.
I pull the phone away from my ear and hang up. It takes every ounce of my control not to throw
it at the wall. I swallow against the lump in my throat, sweat beading on my skin. Shivers tear through
my body, and I close my eyes and try to fight my rising nausea. I can do this. I’ve been in heat without
an alpha before, and I can do it again. I’ve got my box of toys under my bed. I’ve got enough food for
a few days. The meds will help me keep my wits and stop me from doing anything stupid. I can get
through this.

∞∞∞
I make it two days before my mind betrays me. I’ve been able to take my suppressants and
keep them down the last two mornings thanks to an old ginger tea bag I found in the back of my
cabinet. But, even conserving it for when the nausea was at its worst, the watered-down tea had run
out all too soon. I managed to take sips of water occasionally, but it never stayed down long enough to
be of any real benefit, and food never lasted more than a few minutes. The cramps came and went,
and my bed was a damp mess of sweat and arousal. I’d run out of batteries for my toys in the middle
of Monday night, and every release seemed to leave me wanting.
Rhett had been texting me nearly constantly, offering to help, and I replied when I could. I
knew I was being stubborn, but I couldn’t ask this of him. When my stomach wasn’t churning or
cramping, I could feel a pit of guilt there over how much I’ve been lying to him, saying I’m fine when
I wasn’t sure anymore that I was. Every time I gave in and tried to relieve the itch under my skin, his
face appeared behind my closed eyes, his voice in my ears urging me to orgasm.
It’s Tuesday evening, after dark, when I hear my phone ring. My head is in the toilet, heaving
up what little water I’ve sipped today. It rings out, and I feel my arms shake, struggling to hold me up.
I cross them over the back of the bowl, leaning my head to rest for a moment. My phone rings again
and I groan, pushing off the toilet and crawling across the floor. I don’t even look at the caller ID
before swiping to answer.
“Hello?” I croak, my throat raw.
“Holy shit, Lydia, you sound awful.” Rhett’s slightly panicked tone brings a little clarity.
“I don’t just sound awful,” I gasp with a strained chuckle. I fight a groan as my cramps start
again.
“When was the last time you’ve had anything to drink or eat?” Rhett asks, stern and serious.
I look at the clock on the wall of the kitchenette. “I had some water around six, I think. It
didn’t stick, though,” I rasp, trying to keep the pain out of my voice.
“That was four hours ago, love. Why didn’t you call me?”
I close my eyes, fighting back tears at the disappointment and concern painting his words.
“I’m—”
“Don’t you fucking dare try an’ tell me you’re fine again,” Rhett snaps, his accent heavier with
his flare of temper.
I whimper at the growl in his chest, and a blush rises in my face as a fresh wave of slick coats
my thighs.
“Don’t worry about me, Rhett. It’s just a couple more days, I’m sure,” I breathe, trying to
sound calm.
“It’s too late for that, love. I’ve been worried for two days.”
I sigh, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in my throat. “Rhett—”
“Lydia, we both know what you need right now, and you know I can give it to you,” he
interrupts, tone more desperate than angry.
I’m silent for a long moment, and I curse my traitorous body as it thrums at the mere mention
of Rhett touching me, soothing the heat building under my skin. I have to clench my hands into fists to
stop them from drifting to the places my mind imagines him touching.
“I can handle it. You don’t have to—”
Rhett lets out a rough exhale, cutting off my half-hearted refusal. “I know I don’t have to. I
want to. Please let me help you.”
Maybe my hormones have finally melted the part of my brain that houses my common sense,
but hearing Rhett beg snaps that last thread of resistance I’ve been clinging to.
“Okay,” I breathe, a tear sliding down my face.
“That’s a good girl. What’s your apartment number? I’m heading over now.”
The relief in his voice makes my heart skip a beat. I can hear other voices in the background,
but Rhett ignores them. There’s the sound of a slamming door, and a car engine roaring to life. And
damn it if my stomach doesn’t unclench a little at the sound.
“3F. I’ll make sure the door is unlocked,” I whisper, swallowing again.
“I’m making a quick stop for supplies, but I’ll be there within the hour. Just get to the door if
you can and wait. Do not unlock the door for anyone but me, little one. Do you understand?” Rhett
commands.
“Yes, sir,” I groan, the words slipping out on instinct. I sit a little straighter, finding my legs a
little stronger than before.
“Good girl. I’ll be there soon,” Rhett coos.
We hang up, and I take a deep breath. I curse my stupid instincts as I find the strength to stand
and pull a light sheet around my body before sitting on the floor next to the door. I shiver, both hot and
cold, trying to breathe through a new wave of cramps. I must drift off for a moment, as I startle awake
with a squeak when a knock comes at the door.
“Lydia? Are you okay?”
I relax at the sound of Rhett’s voice. “Yeah, give me a second,” I call back as loud as I can.
Gritting my teeth, I use the wall to push myself into a standing position. I still lean heavily on
the wall as I twist the deadbolt open and turn the handle lock. I take a shaky step away from the door,
hugging the sheet closer around me even as the fabric grates on my skin like gravel. The door opens,
and I nearly fall as my knees buckle. His scent washes over me, leather and dusty paper, a balm to my
fragile senses. I try to hold back the keening whimpers, but my eyes burn at the relief flooding through
me, just because he’s close. He’s holding a few paper shopping bags, which he immediately sets
down on the floor before closing and locking the door behind him.
“Lydia,” he sighs, and the concern in his voice and eyes snaps my fragile control.
“I’m sorry,” I choke, tears spilling down my face.
Without a second of hesitation, he pulls me to his chest, muscular arms wrapping tight around
me. I bury my face in his shirt, inhaling deeply. My knees buckle again, and he holds me tighter,
supporting my weight with little effort. Rhett buries his face in my hair, nose brushing lightly over my
neck. I can feel his hard cock against my stomach, and my hand drifts toward it mindlessly.
“No,” Rhett growls into my neck as he feels my movement.
“What?” I gasp, pulling away to look into his face.
His eyes are dark, jaw clenched. Guilt sets in hot on the heels of sour rejection, and I feel my
lower lip trembling for a moment before I press my lips together to contain it. I shrink a little under
the intensity of his gaze, and his eyes soften.
“My body is just reacting to your scent. I’m not here for any other reason than to take care of
you. I’ll be fine,” Rhett soothes, rubbing my back a little.
I swallow and blush, ducking my chin. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, twisting the sheet in my fingers.
 “No apology needed,” he chuckles, pulling me back into his chest.
I allow myself to be tucked into his embrace, his dark chocolate and leather scent working
miracles on my tired body. I close my eyes and relax, nuzzling his chest with my cheek. He seems to
relax a little at that, a contented hum vibrating against my face. I close my eyes, considering if I could
doze standing up when my stomach cramps again, slick sliding down the inside of my leg. I try to
double over, a low groan fighting past my clenched teeth, but Rhett’s arms tighten.
“Lydia?” he asks, grabbing my shoulders to hold me at arm’s length.
“Hurts.” My voice is a whine, desperate and needy. I look up, and the emotion in his eyes rips
through the final shred of my pride. “Help me, please,” I beg, a tear slipping down my cheek.
 Thirteen
Rhett

The scent of her makes my head swim as I stand just inside Lydia’s little apartment. Lilac and
lavender, barely detectable under the thick layer of honey and petrichor, nearly overwhelm me. I’m
dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, and I hadn’t even bothered to find socks before pulling on a pair
of slip-on sneakers on my way out of the pack house. Worry had consumed me for the last few days,
and I hated the momentary swell of satisfaction I’d felt when I pulled up to her building, knowing that
I was right and Lydia needed me. But standing in front of her, hair limp around her flushed face, body
wrapped in a bedsheet, barely able to stand on her own from pain, my protective instincts are roaring
in my head.
“Help me, please.” Her voice is tiny, full of pain and need. Her eyes swim with unshed tears,
the green of her irises barely visible around her dilated pupils.
I take a deep, steadying breath. She’s more lucid than I’ve ever seen an omega in heat, but it
doesn’t mean she fully understands what’s happening to her. My body is screaming to take her, to
throw her to the floor and bury my cock as deep inside of her as I can go. But I can’t. Not when she’s
not herself.
I scoop her up in my arms, one arm under her legs, the other around her back, and she squeaks
at the sudden movement. I glance around and see the mess that is her bed and move over to a small
couch under the windows. I set her down gently, urging her to relax back as I kneel on the floor next to
her.
Her face screws up in pain, and she clutches at her stomach, the sheet falling open as she lets
go. One of her legs curls toward her chest, and I suck in a breath. My eyes drink in the expanse of her
olive skin, catching on another angry red scar on her stomach. I can see the twin crescent-shaped lines
of a bite, deep and puckered as if from stitches. There are also a few thin scars along the tops of her
thighs, four short parallel lines on each. I can feel her eyes on me, and I swallow back against the
anger clogging my throat.
I lean forward and kiss each patch of lines on her thighs. Her breath catches at the brush of my
lips, back bowing sharply. Her skin smells like flowers and rain, making me lightheaded as the blood
rushes to my cock at the first taste of her. I press a kiss to the stretch marks near her luscious hips, the
angry red scar below her breasts, above her heart, one damp cheek and then the other. The salt of her
tears tempers the burning in my chest, softening my instincts to take instead of give. I pull away, and
her eyes are distant, and her lower lip is trembling. I trace along the plump line with the tip of a
finger, continuing along her jaw until I’m cupping one side of her face in my hand.
“Beautiful,” I breathe reverently, lowering my lips to capture her mouth.
Her arms wrap around my neck, my own slipping under her ribcage, and hold her bare breasts
against me, reveling in the feel of my fingers against her skin, the movement of her lips against mine.
Our kiss is a perfect dance, and we move together on instinct alone. She bends when I push but
doesn’t surrender entirely. I catch her lower lip between my teeth, and her little moan makes my cock
twitch. I slip my tongue into her mouth, her taste making me dizzy with want. Floral and sweet, honey
and vanilla flooding my taste buds and making me twitch in my pants. I pull away, kissing down her
jaw to her neck.
“Rhett, please,” she begs, arching in my arms, hips shifting against me.
“Please, what, little one?” I whisper, nipping gently at the tender flesh of her throat.
“I need you,” Lydia moans, trying to untangle herself from my grasp.
I growl, and she stills, panting. I trail my lips along her shoulder, kissing as I go. Her
hardened nipples rub against the fabric of my shirt, and Lydia lets out one of those omega whines that
draws my attention to her.
“I need you, please,” she pants, her hands bunched in the fabric of my shirt.
I pull away long enough to rip off my shirt and throw it across the room, and I let out a
satisfied groan at the feel of her skin against mine. She’s warm, and soft, and absolutely perfect. I
press more kisses to her neck and shoulders, having to hold back my urge to bite and mark her
everywhere I touch. I breathe in her scent again, purring as I exhale. Her kitten claws try to scratch at
my back, but I spend another moment just basking in the feel of her in my arms. Lydia’s hips buck
against me, trying to seek any form of relief.
“So perfect, little one. You smell good enough to eat. I wonder if you’ll taste as delicious,” I
whisper, peppering kisses across her collarbones and down her chest.
Lydia moans, her head thrown back. I can’t help my smirk at her reaction even as the sound
makes my cock pulse, and it’s almost impossibly hard now. She breathes out sharply, my name a
prayer on her lips, her hand coming up to tangle in my hair. I can feel her trying to push my mouth
against her, but it lacks any actual strength.
“Do you like it when I tell you what I’m going to do to you?” I question lightly.
“Yes,” she gasps.
Chuckling, I turn my attention to her breasts. I lay open-mouthed kisses over the flesh, circling
closer and closer to the center, allowing my facial hair to brush against her. She nearly sobs with
relief when I take her nipple in my mouth, swirling my tongue around in tightening circles before
biting gently. Her cries of pleasure are the sweetest sounds, making that primal part of my mind preen
in satisfaction. I have to hold her down with one hand at her hip to keep her from falling off the
narrow couch, my other hand rolling her other nipple between my fingers. She’s so responsive to my
touch, and each little whine and whimper adds fuel to my desire. I pull away, momentarily captivated
by her face, eyes shut tight as she rides the waves of pleasure. She’s biting her lip, holding back her
cries. I growl and lean back down, switching to her other breast. Another high groan escapes from her
as I bite a little harder on her sensitive nipple.
“That’s it now. Let me hear you,” I encourage, switching breasts again. “I could spend a
lifetime with my mouth on your breasts, and it wouldn’t be enough. Would you let me fuck them one
day?” I ask, nipping and sucking at her tender flesh.
“Oh, God, please,” Lydia moans, high and desperate.
“Are you already so close to coming, little one? Just with my mouth on your perfect breasts?”
“Yes, please don’t stop.” Her voice is louder, face pulled tight.
“Or is it my voice, telling you how I want to coat your chest in my cum, marking you, so you’ll
carry my scent for days? How I want to see how much your sensitive nipples can take?”
I move my other hand from her hip, gripping one breast in each hand, kneading her soft flesh. I
feel the sweat beading on my skin, sliding down my back as Lydia’s body writhes below me. I growl
a deep, approving rumble in my chest, feeling how my mouth pulls in a snarling smile. Her breaths
are coming harder and faster now, and I can’t hold back. I lean down and clamp my teeth over the
swell of her breast above her right nipple, biting hard enough for her to feel it, but not enough to break
the skin. Lydia’s shoulders nearly come off the couch, and I feel a rush of her slick dampen to cushion
below her. The fresh flood of her honey and rain scent has me leaking a steady stream of pre-cum, and
I can feel it soaking through my boxers.
I ignore the throbbing between my legs, not wanting to give Lydia time to recover. She needs
more, and I’m more than happy to oblige. I lick the hurt away from my bite mark and move my way
down her stomach, forcing her legs apart with my shoulders. I loop my arms under her thighs and shift
her hips to a better angle. The sudden jerk of movement makes Lydia gasp, and I can’t help but purr a
little. I trail wet kisses up the insides of each of her thighs, breathing her scent deep. She’s sweet, the
honey and vanilla stronger at its source. I can taste her essence on her skin, and my mouth waters in
anticipation. I use my hands to spread her slightly, exposing her glistening sex to the cool air. I can see
her still fluttering muscles coming down from her release, and I growl appreciatively before leaning
in.
I barely hear her groan as the taste of her explodes on my tongue. The honey and vanilla
combine with the cool rain to create my perfect poison. I can smell the lilacs and lavender of her skin,
and I get lost as I delve my tongue as deep as I can, needing every drop. I withdraw and take her
swollen clit in my mouth, sucking on it and rolling it between my lips. Lydia’s breathy moans are
louder now, and I can feel her pussy tightening around my tongue as I return to her core. I moan as a
minor flood of her cream coats my face, and I know her scent will linger in my facial hair for days.
Good.
“I’m so close, Rhett, please,” Lydia begs, a string of mindless pleas following shortly after.
Her hands find my hair, gripping tight as she grinds her pussy into my mouth. Her thighs are
trembling on either side of my head. I take her clit in my mouth again, and I growl with satisfaction as
she groans out a shuddering breath, her gushing release coating my neck and chest as she climaxes
again. I tighten my grip on her legs, not letting up even as she thrashes against me. I need more, need
all of her. My knot is swelling without me ever once touching my cock, all from the taste and scent of
this incredible omega. I lick her slowly through it, feeling her rapid pulse in the femoral artery next to
my head as she clamps her legs around my ears. I wait until it evens out a little and she relaxes before
rising to kiss her again. Her nails scratch at my scalp, and I moan into her mouth.
“Please, Rhett, I need you inside of me,” she whines, trying to reach for my pants.
Her fingers graze the side of my shaft and I have to hold back my groan, even as my hips rock
forward to seek more of her touch. I snatch her wrist and push it to the cushion beside her head,
breathing hard to keep it together. Her gaze snaps to mine, and the naked desire staring back at me
makes my breath catch. That look could topple kingdoms, and it’s almost too much. Claim. Mine.
Claim. I swallow, shaking my head against my base instinct. This isn’t about me. She needs more, and
it’s getting harder and harder to deny her. But I can wait. I need to wait. Her face crumples, and I lean
down to capture her lips with mine again.
“When I fuck you, I don’t want it to be because your body is telling you that you have to,” I
whisper, my lips hovering over hers.
“It’s not just my body that wants you,” she pants, her other hand moving down my chest.
I growl in warning, taking her other hand and pulling both of her wrists above her head and
pinning them with one of my hands. She gasps at the stretch, her lips trying to catch mine again. I hold
myself above her, just out of reach. I need the distance, or else I’m liable to explode in my pants. Or
worse, inside of her.
“Oh, you misunderstand me, little one. I will have you begging for my cock like the good little
girl I know you are, but all in good time. I want your body at my mercy; I want to be the one driving
you to the edge of insanity with need,” I coo, trailing my free hand down her side with feather light
touches.
“I’m there now. I’m begging now. I need your cock, I need your knot, please,” Lydia begs, her
voice trailing off into sobs.
My knot pulses from her begging, and I close my eyes for a moment. God, I want her. But it
wouldn’t be right. I don’t want her to regret our first time. It can’t be like this. I let my thoughts focus
on what my hands are doing, the slide of my fingers against her soaked entrance. I swirl one fingertip
around, searching for that little pleasure bud. I know I’ve found it when her eyes pop open wide, her
hips practically coming off the couch as she arches her back. I brush my finger lightly, barely touching
her clit to tease for the moment. The motion helps to distract me, my mind focused on giving Lydia the
orgasms she needs to get through this. Even if her unrestrained cries of pleasure and pleas for more
are driving me to the very edge of that control.
After a few moments of teasing, I find enough wetness to coat two fingers, sliding them in with
ease. I hiss at the tight warmth that surrounds me, pumping my hand slowly. I close my eyes, a moan
on my lips as I work her tight channel. I feel my hips rocking in time with my hand, and I nearly lose
myself in imagining how her tight, slick cunt is going to feel when I finally slide inside of her.
“So tight, sweet girl. Your cunt is going to feel like heaven around my cock, squeezing like
this. Can you take one more for me?” I babble, hardly aware of what I am saying.
“Yes, please stretch my pussy. Your fingers feel so good inside of me,” Lydia moans, her eyes
sliding closed, her hips matching my steady rhythm.
I pull my hand free for a moment before sliding a third finger into her slit, her moan of
pleasure making my cock throb almost painfully. My balls are heavy, my knot throbbing in time with
my racing heartbeat.
“Good girl,” I growl, feeling her clench at the praise.
I pick up the pace, making sure my palm catches on her clit with every push into her. I stare at
her face, contorted in pleasure as she fucks herself down onto my hand. She clenches the hands I have
pinned above her head in tight fists, and I squeeze her wrists once in warning before letting go. I lean
back, sitting on my heels to be level with her hips. I move deep inside of her, finding that spongy spot
on her upper wall, scraping my fingers on it with every thrust. I use my other hand to circle her clit,
moving with her bucking hips. I want to wring every drop of pleasure her body has to give, to show
her I can be everything she never knew that she needed.
“I can’t, it’s too much,” she sobs, her hands clenching in the sheet above her head.
“You can, and you will. Come for me one more time now. There’s a good girl,” I press,
increasing my pace again.
My name is a scream on her lips as she clenches hard, drenching my arms as she comes again.
I snarl, feeling my entire body thrum as her channel works my fingers. Her orgasm seems to travel up
my arm, down my spine and straight to my aching cock. I can feel the hot ropes of my cum against the
inside of my boxers, but it doesn’t matter. Not while Lydia still has enough strength in her to come
again. I don’t let up, moving with her as she tries to escape from the pleasure. I feel her peak again,
and she falls boneless into the cushions, panting heavily, eyes staring unfocused at the ceiling. I purr
my approval, and her lips pull up at the corners at the unspoken praise. I apply a little more pressure
to her G-spot, and her keening whine as she flutters and comes again makes the primal part of my
brain turn to mush. I slow my fingers, working her down gently from the high. Her walls clench
around me as I withdraw my hand, trying to keep me inside.
I stand, moving to the bags I brought with me, and pull a bottle of water from within. I’m glad
I brought an extra set of clothes, but I can feel how sticky I am from Lydia’s release and my own. I’d
have time later to feel embarrassed that I came in my pants without her even touching me, but right
now, my ruined pants feel like a badge of honor. I kneel next to her head and help her take small sips.
She nuzzles into my chest as I hold her against me, and I can’t help the soft purr that escapes me at her
attention.
“Sleep, love. I’ve got you,” I whisper, leaning down and kissing her forehead.
She nods and almost instantly relaxes in my arms. I consider just holding her until she wakes
on her own, but I need to see to her space while she rests. Once her breathing has evened out, I gently
move her fully onto the couch. I look down at her for a long moment and smile to myself. I tuck a
piece of her hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger for a moment before moving off to clean and
prepare what I can before she wakes again.
 Fourteen
Lydia

A gentle hand shakes me awake, and I groan. After not sleeping for more than an hour or two at a time
over the past few days, the last thing I want to do is to be awake again. I shift slightly, trying to roll
away from the hand.
“Lydia, you need to eat something and then you can go back to sleep,” a firm voice says from
above me.
My eyes fly open as I recognize that lilting baritone. I sit up, my vision going black for a
moment at the sudden movement. A warm hand on my shoulder stops me from falling over, and I let
myself indulge in Rhett’s scent for a moment. There’s a hint of plastic-y scent blocker lingering
around him, but I can smell the dark chocolate and whiskey shining through. I recognize it as my
scent-blocking body wash, and I feel a little happy twist to my heart. I don’t give myself the space to
examine that reaction, even as the tension drains from my shoulders, and I shiver.
“Are you cold? Do you need a blanket?” Rhett asks, worry seeping through his voice.
My vision clears, and I turn to look at him. His hair is damp and falls to one side as he leans
over me. He’s not wearing a shirt, and I can feel the heat radiating off him. His face is pulled into
lines of concern, icy eyes trained on my face. I shake my head, blushing as I realize I’m not wearing a
single stitch of clothing. He smiles at me, and my heart melts a little under its warmth.
“Can you walk? I’d like to get you into bed,” Rhett asks gently.
I nod, swinging my legs off the couch. Rhett puts out his hand to help me, but I ignore it. I heft
myself up, arms wrapping around my middle as I shuffle across the room. I feel almost normal for the
first time in days, and the tide of my embarrassment rises rapidly in my chest. He’s changed my
mattress protector and fitted sheet, but the blankets and throw pillows are sitting in a neat pile on the
floor next to the bed.
“I didn’t want to do anything with your nest while you were asleep,” Rhett mumbles from
behind me.
I turn and see that he’s blushing, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. I give him an
appreciative smile that seems to soothe him a little before I reach down and begin to reassemble my
nest. Rhett moves off to the kitchenette as I crawl into the hollow I’ve made, and pull a blanket around
my shoulders, hugging my knees to my chest under it.
I follow him with my eyes as he finds a bowl-sized mug in my cabinet and pours something
from a can into it, popping it in the microwave to cook. My eyes take in the muscled expanse of his
back, humming a little. Rhett reaches up to find a plate on an upper shelf, and my eyebrows shoot up
in surprise at the tattoo on his left-side ribcage. It’s two lines of elegant script in a language I don’t
understand, the dark ink a sharp contrast to his pale skin.
The microwave beeps, and I jump a little at the noise. Rhett takes some crackers from a box
and puts them on a plate before pulling the mug from the microwave. He walks them both over to me,
and I take the time to appreciate the way his sweats hang on his hips, showing off the V-shaped
muscles that trail suggestively below the waistband.
“It’s just broth and some crackers. They’re full of nutrients and should be easy on your
stomach,” Rhett explains, placing the plate on the bed next to me before handing me the mug.
I nod as I take it, wrapping one of my blanketed hands around the bottom against the heat. It
smells savory, almost like chicken, and I blow on it gently to cool before taking a sip. Rhett slides
down to the floor near me, leaning against the mattress, one knee bent and his arm resting on it. I sip
the broth slowly, watching as Rhett rests his head back against the mattress, his eyes drifting closed.
The only light in my apartment comes from the lamp on my bedside table, and a quick glance out of
my window shows me it’s the middle of the night.
“So,” I start, nibbling on a cracker as I try to put a sentence together.
“So,” Rhett repeats, not opening his eyes.
“You seem to know what you’re doing,” I comment, trying to keep my tone casual.
Rhett laughs, a smug smile splitting his face. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”
I blush deeply, scowling at him playfully. “I meant dealing with an omega’s heat.”
He opens his eyes as he turns to look at me, laughing again as he sees me glaring at him.
“Lucas’s sisters are omegas. I’ve never been this… hands on with a female omega before, but he’s
told me what sorts of things they would do to get through it,” Rhett explains, still smiling.
“But you’ve been with a male omega in heat before?” I ask, reading between the lines.
His smile falters, eyes growing distant. “Once,” he says simply before turning away and
falling silent.
My shoulders slump at the abrupt end to the conversation, and I try to ignore the nagging guilt I
feel in my head. I’ve invited a man, an alpha, into my space, let him touch me, and I’ve made it weird
by asking questions he’s clearly not comfortable answering. I eat a couple more crackers and finish
the mug of broth in the silence. Each tick of the clock sounds like a whip crack, making my skin jump.
The warmth of the broth settles strangely in my stomach, and I set the empty mug on the bed. I do my
best to stifle a yawn, but Rhett still catches me with a knowing look over his shoulder. I look down,
finishing the last cracker in two bites. Rhett stands and takes the dishes back to the kitchenette, setting
them in the sink.
I glance around my apartment and realize with a flush that it’s cleaner. The sink full of dirty
dishes is now sitting clean in the drying rack, and the clothes and blankets that had been scattered
around my floor are now in my hamper next to the bathroom door. I twist the blanket in my hands and
chew on my bottom lip. I look back at him as the sink turns off, and he sets the dishes to dry with the
others.
“You didn’t have to clean my apartment,” I mutter, thoroughly embarrassed.
He shrugs, turning around to lean on the counter with his arms crossed over his bare chest.
There’s a small four-leaf clover tattooed over his heart. I drag my eyes away from it to meet his
piercing blue stare. The look is neutral, but I shrink away. My lower lip trembles as I sit under his
scrutiny. After a long moment, I look away, unable to take it anymore. My vision blurs as my thoughts
spiral. This was a mistake.
“I’m really sorry about this. We barely know each other, but I’m throwing myself at you and
you want to take it slow, and it’s not fair to you—”
“First of all, you didn’t throw yourself at me. I offered to help you,” Rhett says matter-of-
factly, speaking over my frantic words.
“But I shouldn’t be so…” My voice cracks, and I hide my face in my hands as tears break free
and slide down my cheeks.
“Hey, hold on. Look at me, Lydia,” Rhett says, words much softer now.
I shake my head, burrowing deeper into my blanket. I hear his footsteps approach, and the bed
dips a little next to me. Gentle hands wrap around my wrists, pulling them away from my face. I look
to see Rhett kneeling on the floor next to the bed, looking up at me with worry in his eyes. I sob a
little at the kindness in his face, and I look away quickly. He cups the side of my face, pulling me back
around to look at him again, his thumb wiping away a tear.
“Talk to me, love. What’s got you all tied up in knots?” he questions.
I take a shuddering breath, and he lets me sit for a moment, all patience. I swallow a little,
bracing myself. “I’ve been so selfish. You’re here taking care of me, and I haven’t… taken care of
you,” I whisper.
Rhett lets out a sharp exhale through his nose. “That’s not—”
“But I’m in heat. You must need it, and I don’t want you to feel neglected,” I cut across him,
trying to move closer.
Rhett puts his hands on my shoulders over the blanket, stopping me. His eyes are flashing, and
I shrink away from the intensity. He sighs at my reaction and shakes his head a little.
“We are going ta have a long talk here real soon, only so I can figure out who filled your head
with all these backwards fucking ideas. And then I’m going ta find them and set t’em ta right,” he
says, the dangerous growl at the edge of his voice making me shiver.
“I don’t understand,” I whimper.
He looks at me for a long moment, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Just because you are
an omega in heat, it doesn’t give me the right to your body. Do I want you? God, yes. Every cell in my
body is telling me to take you until the only thing you know is me. But it would be such an extreme
violation of your trust to take advantage of you like that.”
My stomach clenches at his words even as my brow furrows. “Take advantage?” I repeat,
confused.
Rhett nods. “It would be like taking you to bed when you’ve had too much to drink. Your heat
impairs your ability to make decisions and lowers inhibitions. You might ask for something that, once
this passes, you truly didn’t want. It’s just not a line I’m comfortable crossing.”
I frown, and the feeling of guilt rises again. “I shouldn’t have put you in this position,” I
mutter, looking away.
Rhett’s fingers gently tilt my chin to look at him again. “I wouldn’t have come here if I thought
I couldn’t control myself. I want to help you. And when this is over, we are going to figure out what
comes next, I promise.”
I nod, and exhaustion falls heavily over me. I yawn again, and Rhett chuckles.
“Get some sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake,” he says smoothly.
I look around my apartment, blushing as I see the couch covered with towels. I turn back to
look at him as he moves to stand. I catch his hand in both of mine as he turns away. He looks back at
me, curiosity lighting his eyes.
“Do you want to…. I mean, would you be okay with joining me? In bed?” I ask, stumbling
over the words.
“Are you sure? If you don’t want me in your nest…” he trails off, and I can see the flush of
color on his cheeks.
I look around at the piles of pillows and blankets around me, frowning. “Hold on,” I say
quickly, letting go of his hand.
I turn to sit up on my knees, and fuss for a few minutes over the placement of the bedding. He
watches in silence, not interrupting me as I make room for him. When I’m satisfied, I turn back around
and shift to one side, patting the mattress next to me. My heart flips as his eyes light up, joy
brightening his entire face. He moves slowly, as if he expects me to change my mind at any moment.
When he finally lays down on his back in the space I made for him, I pull the blanket from around my
shoulders and throw it over both of us before tucking into his side. He wraps his arm protectively
around me under the covers, and I sigh at the skin-on-skin contact.
“Thank you,” he breathes.
I hum in return, relaxing into him. Rhett leans over, turning off the lamp with his free hand. We
lay there for a moment, letting the ticking clock fill the silence. His lips brush the top of my head, and
I smile, snuggling closer. The arm around me tightens, his other hand resting on the arm I have draped
over his chest.
“I’ve only had an alpha join me during my heat once,” I whisper into the dark.
Somehow, it’s easier to speak when I can’t see his face. Rhett squeezes gently but doesn’t
respond. I can feel the tension in his chest against my cheek.
“We’d been together for a while, and I was taking suppressants to control the cycle. He put a
lot of pressure on me to stop taking them, saying that we needed to share my heat to know if we’d be
compatible for the long haul. We’d had sex, and I’d even taken his knot more than a few times, but it
was so important to him that I go through a true heat, and that he was there to break it.”
My voice is distant as I fall back into the memories. The begging, the arguments, the guilt
trips, every tactic he’d used to wear me down. Rhett doesn’t say anything as I fall silent, but he rubs
my back in slow, soothing motions. His scent shifts slightly, leather edging forward over chocolate.
“He wasn’t like you. I’d barely started having symptoms when he locked us up in this shitty
hotel room and… just became insatiable. I don’t know if my heat sent him into a rut, or if he was
already on the edge, but it was… really intense and scary. I never went into a full heat, like my body
knew that it wasn’t safe to let go like that, and it made him mad. The worst was when he tried to use
his bark on me when I refused to bond with him.”
My throat clogs as the memory of that cold command, of how helpless I’d felt as he was
locked inside of me, all while fighting to keep what little control I had left. The pain as I’d pulled free
before his knot went away. The blood.
Tears fall down my face and splash onto Rhett’s chest. He rolls onto his side, pulling me tight
against his chest with both arms. He lets me cry, pressing his lips to my hairline and breathing deeply.
When I’ve calmed down a little, I close my eyes and just let myself be held.
“Is that when you got the marks, the ones on yer shoulder and stomach?” he asks, voice a
hoarse whisper.
I tense at his question. I can feel the tremble in his arms, how still his chest goes as he waits
for my answer. I screw my eyes shut, my shoulders bunching as I brace myself.
“No,” I breathe, another silent tear escaping from behind my closed eyes.
I whimper as a savage growl spills from Rhett’s throat and his arms become steel bands,
holding me to his panting chest. He hooks a leg over mine, practically laying on top of me. I can hear
his teeth grinding in my ear as he buries his face in my neck and hair. It’s not a true alpha rage, but the
instinct to soothe and submit still flares to life in my chest. I try to make myself small, but his limbs
are tangled in mine, keeping me pinned in place. I whimper again, my head falling back to expose my
throat in submission, my body shaking.
Suddenly, Rhett pulls his head back and cups my face in both of his hands. Even in the dim
light, I can see the barely contained fury in his icy blue eyes. He brings his lips to mine, and his touch
is so gentle that a fresh stream of tears breaks free from behind my eyelids. His thumbs brush them
away, his hold on my head firm but unbelievably tender. He pulls away, leaving me gasping and
aching for more. The rage is still there in his eyes, but there’s a softness there that catches me off
guard. He presses his forehead to mine, and my eyes fall closed at the intimacy.
“To know that there was ever a time when you weren’t treated like the absolute treasure you
are makes me want to burn nations to the ground from the injustice of it all. For as long as you’ll have
me, Lydia, I will do everything in my power to atone for the wrongs those before me committed. And,
so help me God, I ever cross paths wit tat bottom-feeding scum of a fucking alpha who hurt you, dere
won’t be enough of ’im left ta bury.”
Rhett’s dangerous words, the passion that makes his voice tremble brings a wholly different
kind of shiver to my body and I don’t fight the little smile that pulls at my cheeks. I should be afraid of
Rhett, should be frightened by the violence and promise of his declaration. But, as I reach a hesitant
hand up and place the tips of my fingers gently against his cheek, I realize with a swoop of wonder
low in my belly, that I have never felt safer.
 Fifteen
Lydia

There are days when I just wake up and know that it’s going to be a bad one. The day of the
MacMillian wedding is one of those days. It’s the first wedding of April, and one of the first Gabby
and I will work together alone this wedding season. In theory, it should be a pretty easy drop off. The
order is relatively simple, but the bad luck sets in as Gabby and I load the truck that Saturday
morning.
It starts when I drop a vase. The air is humid, so condensation formed quickly, and it just
slipped out of my hands, shattering on the workroom floor. It wasn’t a complicated arrangement, but
not having my help to load the truck set us back by a good half hour. We hit traffic on the way out of
town and get stuck behind a tractor for several miles. Gabby takes all of these setbacks in stride, her
upbeat attitude unshakable, which only serves to make my gut twist more. Thankfully, we pull into the
driveway of Bright Hills Estate before I fully get worked up about being anxious over being anxious.
The venue is a beautiful farmhouse set on a hill surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens
and sloping lawns. I’d worked a few events here, and I fall a little more in love with the slice of
pastoral paradise every time. There’s been some construction, but it’s all expertly hidden behind
tasteful fencing that leaves the casual visitor none the wiser to the ongoing expansion. We find a spot
near the loading dock, and it doesn’t take long before Gabby and I are sweating through our clothes.
Spring made an all-too-brief appearance, and summer was charging full steam ahead.
By the time we finish unloading the truck, something in the back of my head has me on edge.
An event coordinator usually meets us within moments of arrival so they can check our delivery off
the list and get us out of the way. But today, Gabby and I are among the group of vendors milling about
the loading dock, waiting for someone to talk to. The group grows by the minute, and I glance at my
watch several times. The wedding will start in a few hours, but no one is really sure what to do.
“Shame they don’t have more coordinators on staff.” Gabby sighs pointedly.
I shrug, not really in the mood for this conversation again. “How’s that guy from next door?
Wes?” I redirect.
Gabby blushes and looks away. “He’s been great. We went to that concert, and I didn’t think
I’d be into it, but it was actually a lot of fun.”
I smile fondly, listening as Gabby goes on about her new boyfriend. She’s been smitten, and
I’m glad she’s found someone that can make her feel like the special woman she is. I have my
reservations about him, but I doubt anyone will ever be good enough for my best girl.
“I don’t fucking know, Dean!”
My head snaps around toward the sudden shout, the voice vaguely familiar. Across the room, I
see one baker deep in conversation with a man with long legs and a mop of dark hair. It takes me a
moment to recognize Lucas, as his face is twisted into a harsh glare, so unlike the easy smile he wore
when I first met him.
“What do you think that’s about?” Gabby mutters, perking up at the brewing drama unfolding
before us.
The baker, Dean, is talking with his hands, waving wildly as he gets increasingly agitated, but
his words are lost in the background hum of conversation. Lucas doesn’t back down, returning the
heated words being flung at him without blinking. After a few more volleys, Dean throws his hands
up and storms away. Lucas shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, looking around with a
deep frown. I don’t look away fast enough, and his eyes connect with mine. And, to my surprise,
Lucas makes a beeline in my direction.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Lucas says by way of greeting when he’s close enough.
“I could say the same for you,” I return with a chuckle.
“Yeah, well, Dorothy got in a car accident this morning on her way in, and I drew the short
straw.” Lucas sighs, running a hand through his hair again.
Gabby and I both straighten at his words and press a hand to my heart as it twists slightly.
Lucas’s scent is edging into burnt marshmallows, and I have to resist the urge to put a hand to his arm
to soothe his stress. Dorothy is the primary event coordinator here, and we’ve always gotten along,
especially after I’d confided that she basically has my dream job. She’d even let me shadow her a
few times when I had free time.
“Is she okay?” Gabby asks, concern painting her words.
“Yeah, but she’s still going to be out for the day. And Rebecca is working an event at
Wickland House, so it’s been absolute madness while we try to find someone to handle the wedding,”
Lucas says, dropping his voice as he glances around to make sure we aren’t being overheard.
“Lyds, you could do it,” Gabby says suddenly.
Lucas and I both whip our heads around to face her at the same time, and I feel the blood
draining from my face, moisture disappearing from my mouth. I stare at Gabby, trying to get my brain
to form a coherent response, but I’m not fast enough. Lucas turns his attention to me, and I can see his
confused expression out of the corner of my eye.
“What do you mean?” he asks slowly.
“She went to school for event management. And she’s been helping Dorothy every now and
then, so she knows your system. Right?” Gabby explains, eyes twinkling.
“Gabby, I-I can’t—”
“Wait, seriously? Lydia, can you please? I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, and Lex is
going to kill me if I fuck this up,” Lucas cuts across, spinning to me.
He takes my shoulders in his hands, long fingers nearly touching as they splay across my back.
I look up into his face, and I forget every word of protest that had been forming in my head. His
stormy steel-blue eyes are shining with hope and excitement, and I can’t help but soften as his graham
cracker and marshmallow scent floats down to me.
“I’ll need the file. And a headset,” I rasp, mind catching up and switching into gear.
Lucas sags, pulling me into his chest for a quick but tight hug. “I could fucking kiss you. Wait
here. Thank you so much.”
Before I can say another word, Lucas dashes off, disappearing among the bodies. I turn back
to Gabby and find her smirking knowingly at me. She’s been on my case to use my experience and
schooling for something real for nearly as long as I’ve known her, but this is bold, even for her.
“You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you,” I mutter with a half-hearted glare.
“You can thank me later when you’ve got a job offer in your inbox,” Gabby chirps, still
smirking.
“You know who that was, right?” I deadpan.
“Should I?” Gabby asks, voice full of innocence as she bats her eyelashes at me.
I roll my eyes with a harsh scoff. “That’s Lucas Klausen, you conniving harpy. Rhett’s pack
mate.”
Gabby blinks at me and has the gall to look surprised. But I can tell by the smirk she can’t
seem to wipe off her face that she’s full of shit.
“Well, congrats. You’re now my assistant event coordinator. Hope you brought your running
shoes,” I throw at her, smirking myself.
A moment later, Lucas pushes through the crowd, a clipboard and a walkie talkie and earpiece
in his hands. I sigh as I take them, shaking my head. I slip on the headset and start flipping through the
various papers. I can feel Lucas’s eyes on me, but I ignore him. Thankfully, everything seems to be
fairly straightforward, and all the documents appear to be in order. My mind whirs as I take in seating
charts, furniture diagrams, itineraries, and timetables.
“Right. Gabby, get the flowers to the main ballroom. We can set them up later. Lucas, you’re
in charge of food, so go to the kitchen and make sure everything is on track. Take Dean with you to get
his cake in a cooler before it melts in this heat. I’ll have the staff start on the table set up and check in
the rest of the vendors. The bride’s set to arrive in an hour, so we need to have this chaos cleaned up
before she gets here and starts freaking out.”
I don’t even look to see if they follow my instructions before I set away and get to work.
The next forty-five minutes pass in a blur of faces and names. The Bright Hills staff know me,
so they don’t question why I’m suddenly in charge, but some vendors are less eager to step to and just
follow directions. I’m in the middle of arguing with the DJ over his booth placement when Gabby’s
voice crackles through the headset into my ear.
“Bride is early. She’s asking for Dorothy. What should I tell her?”
“Get her to the bridal suite, babe. I’ll be there in a minute,” I reply with clipped efficiency.
I turn my attention back to the beta looking at me with open contempt in his eyes and huff a
sigh. The DJ is dressed in slacks but opted for a T-shirt under his suit jacket rather than a button
down. His thick-rimmed glasses are perched on a crooked nose, and his beta scent of cotton candy
almost makes my teeth hurt as I breathe in its overwhelming sweetness.
“Look, Tyler. This is the spot that’s been marked out for you. I don’t care if you can’t fit your
new speakers, because they weren’t on the order form. Don’t bring anything that wasn’t in your
contract here. This is a wedding, not a fucking rave,” I snap, putting as much authority in my tone as I
can muster.
“But the sound is—”
“Great balls of fire! Just do as you’re told. And if I come back here and find you set up
anywhere other than this spot, with any equipment except the ones they expressly paid you to bring,
this will be the last time you see the inside of a St. Clair Foundation venue.”
I storm away before he can question whether I truly have the authority to make such threats. I
probably don’t, but I’ll still tell Dorothy about this when I see her next. Getting on the approved
vendor list for the St. Clair properties is a process and comes with a certain level of understanding
that the businesses are of a higher quality standard than others. The people in charge should know if
one vendor is getting uppity when the bosses have their backs turned.
I run up the stairs, my button down sticking to the sweat on my back. I’m only a little out of
breath by the time I hit the second-floor landing, and I’m flipping through the clipboard as I walk. One
of the ushers asks for a clarification on the placement of the gift and card table as I round the corner,
and I stomp out that fire by the time I reach the bridal suite. Gabby is outside, wringing her hands.
“Good luck, babe. She’s starting to freak out.” Gabby sighs, nodding at the closed door.
I take a deep breath and set my shoulders with a nod. I can do this. We’re getting this back on
track, and I just need to be confident. I twist open the handle and stride into the room, tucking the
clipboard under my arm.
I’m immediately assaulted by the mix of scents in the room, beta and alpha mostly, but it’s
hard to put a designation to a face when there are a dozen people in such a small space. I find the
bride sitting on a sofa, a bridesmaid on either side clutching her hands. The bride, Ella from the
paperwork, has her golden blonde hair done in an updo, veil already pinned in place in the back.
She’s staring at the ceiling, blinking fast.
“I am so sorry for the delay, Miss Ella, but my name is Lydia. Your planner, Dorothy, couldn’t
be in today, so I’m filling in,” I start with a kind smile.
“Great. Another thing gone wrong. This is just the cherry on top,” Ella moans, bouncing a
little on the sofa.
I try to keep my smile as I pull up an ottoman and sit in front of her. The bridesmaids are
looking at me with a mixture of frustration and desperation, and I soften my expression to something a
little more natural than my customer service smile. Ella’s scent, soft cashmere and cherry blossoms,
makes me sigh. An omega scent, but no alpha mixed in, so not bonded. She must be marrying a beta,
then.
“We’ve got this, I promise. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ve got your whole file
here, and we’re going to make sure your special day goes off without a hitch,” I say, reaching out and
putting one of my hands on her knee.
Ella looks down at me, and I tighten my grip at the sadness in her brown eyes. This is
supposed to be the happiest day of her life, and she’s miserable. My heart breaks for her, and I can’t
resist the urge to fix this if I can.
“Talk to me, Ella. What’s on your mind?” I offer, settling in.
I spend the next hour listening to the awful day this bride has had, trying to keep my
composure. Her photographer never showed at the salon to take pictures of the wedding party getting
ready, and has ghosted her. I pull out my phone as she continues to describe the terrible day she’s had,
typing without looking.

Me: Call Bryan. We need him, STAT.

Gabby: Ew, no.
Me: Gregg was the photographer for this event and he’s MIA.
Gabby: Probably got too high last night and can’t be bothered to follow through. Fucker.
Me: We need a photographer, Gabs. And Bryan has been looking to get onto the St. Clair
list for months.
Gabby: Fine, but if he asks to do a feet pic shoot, you’re taking that bullet this time.
Me: Fine.

I look back up, rejoining the conversation as Ella goes on about how one of the groomsmen
got food poisoning from the rehearsal dinner, and he might not make it for the ceremony. I add in the
appropriate sympathetic noises, and letting the bride vent seems to work. As Ella tells me about how
the groom lost his shoes somewhere between their apartment and the hotel last night and is currently
tearing up their bedroom looking for them, my phone buzzes in my hand.

Gabby: He’ll be here in twenty. And you’re booked for next Wednesday for a pedicure, his
treat.
 Me: Great. Now I just have to figure out how to tell Rhett a strange man wants to
photograph my feet for his personal collection.
Gabby: HAHAHAHAHAHAH can I be there when you tell him??? Please?!?

I ignore that, containing my eye roll. Ella finally gets to the point in the day where she’s on her
way to the venue and finds out that her planner isn’t available. It truly has been one thing after another
for this poor girl.
“It’s been a rough day, but we’re going to turn it around right now. I’ve got everything under
control. Your ceremony space is all set for you. I’ve been told your string quartet is already here and
warming up. I can personally say that your flowers are pretty darn special, but I’m a little biased
because I did them,” I say, ending with a little conspiratorial laugh.
Ella laughs along with me, and her bridesmaids seem to relax. There’s a knock at the door,
and one of the other bridesmaids answers. I sigh in relief as I see Bryan, the photographer who is
doing me this huge solid.
“Now, ma’am. No more tears on your big day. My good friend Bryan here is going to make
sure you get all the pictures you want. You and your girls just relax, and I’ll have some champagne
and goodies sent up for y’all since we’ve got a hot minute to spare. Don’t you worry ’bout a thing,” I
say firmly, standing and crossing to the door.
I mouth a quick “thank you” to Bryan, who winks at me before turning to the bridal party and
asking what sort of shots he can get. I leave the bridal suite, pushing my hair back from my forehead.
“Crisis averted, it seems.”
I jump with a shout and turn to find Lucas leaning on the wall next to the door. I put a hand
over my racing heart, panting to catch my breath. Lucas only chuckles, crossing his arms over his
chest.
“Everything going okay?” he asks, tone a little too smug for my nerves right now.
“Just peachy. Is there something I can help you with?” I snap, moving off as I hear someone
calling for me to come to the ceremony space over my headset.
Lucas falls into step easily next to me, shrugging. “Just wanted to know how you’re doing.
You’ve been with the bride for a while,” he says.
“Yeah, well, event planners have to be part therapist, besides all the other stuff. Speaking of
which, get a bottle or two sent up to the bridal suite. That poor girl needs a fucking drink,” I press,
rushing down the stairs.
“Will do. And Lydia?” Lucas says, grabbing my arm before I can leave him at the bottom of
the stairs.
I turn, looking at him expectantly. I really don’t have time for this.
“I owe you big time for this. I mean it. You didn’t have to—”
“While I really love hearing how much of a favor I’m doing you, can you grovel later when
I’m not trying to put out a hundred fires?” I interrupt.
Lucas blinks at me, expression surprised and amused, before he laughs. “You sounded just
like Rhett there for a second. A little creepy, honestly.”
“I’m not sure that was a compliment,” I scoff.
“It is. He’s... yeah, it’s a compliment. I’ll catch you later, ’kay?”
I nod, and I stop for a second as I watch him turn and walk away. I wonder for a moment what
he was going to say about Rhett, but I’m interrupted as someone asks for me again over the headset.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur, and before I know it, I’m standing at the door to the
ceremony space, signaling the bridal party for their entrances. When Ella steps up with her father, she
stops and takes one of my hands.
“Thank you,” she whispers, tears in her eyes again.
I nod, my own returning smile a little watery. After a moment, she lets my hand drop and looks
ahead, smiling from ear to ear. I signal the music to change, and sigh as Ella starts her walk down the
aisle.
I scent Lucas before he scares the pants off me again, and his body heat radiates into my arm
as we watch the bride finish her walk toward her groom. They’re both openly crying, taking turns to
wipe away each other’s tears.
“This is my favorite part,” Lucas whispers.
I hum my confusion, not looking away from the couple as they turn to their officiant and start
the ceremony proper.
“Usually, a couple is together for a while before they get married, so it’s not like they don’t
know who’s going to be there at the other end of the aisle. But when they see each other in this setting,
it’s like they’re seeing the love of their life for the first time. It’s magic,” Lucas whispers, voice full
of dreamy longing.
“Do you want this? Marriage?” I ask softly, smiling a little.
“I don’t need a piece of paper to know that the alphas I love are mine. And I could never
choose between them anyway.” Lucas laughs.
I join him, my smile brightening. Lucas’s voice is warm and rich with feeling. I don’t know
his other alpha, but I know Rhett enough that I can believe it. Rhett talks about Lucas a bit, and he
always has the same rich, warm tone to his voice, the same besotted smile and sparkle in his eye.
“What about you?” Lucas asks after a heartbeat.
I shrug. “I like weddings, but I don’t know. Never really had anyone that I could see myself
with for the long haul like that.”
“What about Rhett?” Lucas asks seriously.
I turn to look at him to find him staring intently at me. There isn’t any judgement in his eyes,
just honest curiosity. I sigh, chewing on my lower lip as I consider my answer. I’ve only known Rhett
a few weeks, so it’s hard to think about taking that sort of step when we haven’t even been intimate
yet. And I wouldn’t want to infringe on his relationship with Lucas.
“We’re taking it slow. I know that y’all—you and him specifically, but the pack, too—have
something special. I’m not… I’m new to all of this, having multiple partners. I don’t want to step on
any toes, or anything like that. I’ve never been the jealous type, and sharing isn’t so bad, especially
with someone like Rhett. I’m still adjusting,” I admit, feeling my face warm.
Lucas nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I was the same way at first. But
knowing that you’re just as important to him as everyone else he loves helps. Rhett has so much room
in his heart, and it can fit all of us, I promise.”
“I still don’t know if I’d be okay with sharing him with just anybody,” I grumble, only half
joking.
Lucas scoffs out a laugh. “I know exactly what you mean, Lydia.”
We lapse into silence, and I turn back to the altar, listening at the bride and groom exchange
their vows. My shoulders relax and I brush a tear from my cheek. The joy and love in the room fills
my heart near to bursting. I’d be surprised if there’s a dry eye anywhere in the crowd as the groom
talks about how he knew Ella was the one for him from the first moment they met.
“He talks about you a lot, you know,” Lucas says when the groom finishes.
 I don’t respond, waiting to hear where he’s going with this.
“I have to admit that I was curious what it was about you that has him so… enamored. But
after today…”
He trails off, looking back to the altar as the couple exchanges rings. I smile, getting a little
misty eyed as the couple says the words that bind them together forever. I feel a finger brush my hand
and, when I don’t pull away, Lucas threads his fingers through mine. I curl my hand around his,
enjoying the heat of it, the callouses and strength of his grip making my stomach flutter.
“I think you’re something special, too,” Lucas whispers.
 Sixteen
Lydia

Rhett: So I have good news and bad news, love. Which do you want first?
Me: Break my heart with the bad news, and then make me feel better with the good news.
Rhett: At the insistence of my sisters, I’m not going to be home until Friday. I want you to
know that there was much crying and begging, but they forced me to relent when Mum got
involved.
Me: Were they your tears or theirs?
Rhett: I plead the fifth.
Me: So what’s the good news?
Rhett: I will bear gifts upon my return.
Me: Gifts, plural?
Rhett: I plead the fifth.
Me: Seriously, Rhett. How many gifts?
Rhett: I’ll call later. Mason is awake, and I’m going to take over so Katie can take a shower.

I roll my eyes and shove my phone into my pocket with a huff. It’s been about a month and a
half since Rhett helped me break my heat, and three weeks since the MacMillan wedding. We’d gone
out a few more times, mostly to museums and galleries. Rhett is the biggest history nerd I’ve ever met,
and going out with him is like having my personal tour guide. I’d especially loved our trip to the
exhibit on Renaissance masters, and Rhett’s running commentary on all the devious things the artists
were known to enjoy that are strangely glossed over in the textbooks.
A few days after that date, he’d been called away for a family emergency, which turned out to
be the birth of his nephew. He’d been smitten with the baby, sending me picture after picture. My
favorite had been the one of him holding the baby for the first time in the hospital; the undimmed joy
and awe on his face as he looked down at the newborn in his arms never failed to make me smile.
He texts me nearly constantly, calling in the evenings after I get home from work. It’s always
been easy to talk to Rhett, and even though we’re apart, it was almost like a constant stream of
conversation between us, flowing from one topic to the next, both through text and when we spoke.
We’ve known each other for just a few weeks, but it feels like he’s been my friend for my whole life.
I want to be frightened by how intense my feelings are, but I only feel warm and secure whenever I
think about Rhett.
Rhett never mentioned if Lucas told him what I’d done at the wedding, but something that I
didn’t realize had been nagging in the back of my head settled after Lucas and I talked. We are both
adults, and in this day and age, getting someone’s blessing is a little outdated. But knowing that Lucas
didn’t feel threatened by me still feels like a weight off my shoulders. Rhett and I are still moving
slowly, even if our conversations stray from innocently flirtatious into the downright devious at times.
But I’m still trying to wrap my head around exactly what Rhett wants from me. We haven’t broached
that specific topic again, but it feels inevitable. The attraction is there; we just have to figure out how
we’re going to make it work.
The clock in the storefront chimes the hour, and I sigh in relief when I see that it’s time to
close. I walk to the front door to flip the sign and frown at the group of men I see through the glass.
One of the work crews that’d been assigned to the awning repairs is standing outside, leaning on their
trucks, and drinking from bottles inside of paper bags. The bulkiest one, with buzzed blond hair and
coal dark eyes, notices me and stands straight, nudging one of his coworkers. I flip the sign over
before locking the door and retreating behind the counter to close out the register. I can hear the men
laughing outside, and I roll my eyes.
They’d been hanging around the front of Grandmother Wila’s since work began on the awning
repairs last week, according to Gabby. In the mornings, they’d park their trucks right in front of the
store, take their lunches on our bench, and hang outside for a while after work was done for the day.
There were four of them, and they did nothing other than loiter, but it was getting on all of our nerves.
It annoyed Wila that they were taking valuable parking from customers, but Gabby and I were far
more concerned with the intent we could see in their eyes when they leered at us through the glass.
Thankfully, they clear off by the time I leave for the day and head home.

∞∞∞
The next day, I’m working on inventory in one of the walk-in coolers when I hear the door
chime. It’s midafternoon, and Gabby was driving Wila to a doctor’s appointment. I tuck the clipboard
under one arm as I push through to the storefront, my customer service smile firmly in place. But I
freeze as I see the blond worker from last night standing at the counter. His scent of kerosene and
cheddar popcorn nearly makes me gag, and I take a step back, putting my back to the wall.
“Can I help you?” I ask, trying to breathe through my mouth.
“Uh yeah. Do you have any water? Me and my boys have been working up a sweat and could
really use some refreshment,” he says, his voice almost boyishly high despite his muscled chest and
shoulders.
“There’s a cafe next door,” I point out, motioning to the wall we share with it.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t have you on the menu,” he says, leaning heavily on the counter.
I blink at him a few times. “I’m sorry?” I ask in disbelief.
He sucks on his teeth, and I fight the urge to shudder as his dark eyes brazenly move up and
down my body. “Listen, let’s just be honest with each other. I can tell you’re an omega, and I’m sure
you can tell I’m an alpha. So do you just want to skip the song and dance and I’ll just meet you at The
Devil’s Deuce tonight for drinks?” he goes on, waving a hand.
The Devil’s Deuce is one of the hole-in-the-wall bars that had popped up just outside of Old
Town, trying to capitalize on the college kids bar hopping from one hipster spot to another. It was
dark, full of shady corners and shadier deals, and almost always crawling with alphas.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I scoff, hugging the clipboard to my chest.
“Seriously? I’m just trying to be nice. An omega like you can’t be getting offers like this all
that often,” he shoots back, standing up and crossing his bulging arms over his chest.
I narrow my eyes at him. “I beg your pardon, ‘an omega like me’?” I throw back, hands
balling into fists around the clipboard.
“Well, ya know, you’re not the kind of omega that most alphas go for. Most want one that they
can toss around a little, someone that’s fragile and shit,” the alpha babbles, a smirk on his square
face.
I can feel my heartbeat in my ears, my pulse rising as I stare the prick down. He’s one more
smart remark away from learning that the term “fragile” can describe both glass and bombs.
He sucks his teeth again and rolls his eyes. “I get it. I’m not conventionally attractive, either.
But I’m not yanking your chain.”
He does not know when to stop digging. “You want to try that again, my guy?” I growl.
His face lights up, mistaking my warning for interest. “Oh yeah, I’m totally into fat chicks, and
you—”
Strike three, you’re out. “And that’s it. Leave, now,” I snap, pointing to the door.
“What?” he says, looking at me like I’ve suddenly grown an extra head.
I stomp around the counter and out of his reach before he recovers. I open the door and point
outside again. “It seems like the only thing I can help you with today is finding the door. Leave,” I
deadpan, glaring at him.
“What is your fucking problem?” he blusters, taking a step toward me.
“My fucking problem, right now, is you. I’m working, and you coming here to insult me is
wasting my time.”
“It was a compliment, for fuck’s sake! Why are you making this a big deal?” he shouts,
advancing another step.
I hold my ground, fighting the shaking in my arms. I stare him down, and he relents after a
moment.
“Don’t need to act like such a frigid bitch, omega,” he grumbles as he passes me.
“You want me to act like a bitch, I will, asshole,” I shout back, seeing red.
He turns on his heel two paces outside the door, teeth bared in a snarl. He starts to advance
back toward me when a voice catches his attention.
“Is there a problem here?”
I turn and see a man strolling down the sidewalk toward us. His torso tapers from broad
shoulders to a trim waist, and long runner’s legs. He’s dressed in black slacks and a pale gray button
down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a colorful patchwork of tattoos on each arm.
He pushes a pair of sunglasses up into his tousled sandy-brown hair, allowing me to see his warm
brown eyes as he moves between me and the alpha. His scent overpowers the aggressive pheromones
rolling off the worker, filling my nose with notes of lemonade and freshly cut grass, and a hint of
sharp bergamot.
“No, no problem here, Mr. Hutchenson.”
“Yes, the fuck there is.”
The alpha worker glares at me as the newcomer turns to regard me. He looks me up and down
once, and his nostrils flare. His face remains impassive, but I see a spark of recognition in his eyes.
He turns back to the worker, sliding a hand into a front pocket.
“Shouldn’t you be down the street with the rest of your crew, Davis?” the unfamiliar man
says, and I shiver at the alpha growl that fills the words.
There’s another tense moment between them, and Davis’s eyes flick to me once more before
he relents and takes off at a jog down the sidewalk.
Mr. Hutchenson turns to me once Davis is well on his way, a small apologetic smile on his
face. “Do you mind if I come in? I’d like to ask you exactly what happened, so I know what I’m going
to write on his pink slip.”
I blink at him for a moment before moving aside to let him pass me. He stops a few paces into
the store, looking around with his hands in his pockets. I hear him take a sharp breath in as I move
around him and behind the counter. I tell him about the encounter, all the while something nagging at
the back of my mind. His face is so familiar, but I can’t place it for the life of me. I’m drawn in by the
jovial light in his eyes and the way he doesn’t shield his emotions as he listens to me. His jaw is set
in a firm line as I describe what Davis said, and I see a flash of respect in his eyes. When I finish, he
lets out a disappointed sigh.
“I’m really sorry for all of that. You’d think that the people you hire for a job could behave
better than this, but alas…” He sighs, rubbing his eyes.
“I don’t care if they stay on the job, by the way. I just don’t want them hanging around here
anymore,” I push, feeling a little guilty. Even assholes needed to make a living.
“Trust me. It’s better for us to kick him and his crew off the job. That way, if he or any of his
little friends try to come back while we’re doing the repairs, they’ll be trespassing,” he says, waving
a hand.
I shrug, not convinced but deciding to let it go. I didn’t think it’d be that big of a problem, as
long as it was made clear that they couldn’t harass us. But I guess it’s better to play it safe.
“Can I ask you a weird question?” he asks suddenly.
“If you’re going to ask me if I want to go out for drinks, I’m going to have to pass. I’m at my
proposition limit for the week,” I reply flatly, leveling an exhausted look at him.
He throws his head back and laughs, holding his stomach. I can’t help but join in, his energy
infectious. He looks back at me after a moment, still smiling.
“No, I wasn’t going to ask you out. At least, not right now. I was actually going to ask you if
you’ve met an alpha named Rhett Cooper?”
I blink at him, too stunned to answer for a moment.
“I only ask, because I can smell him on you,” he continues.
I cough a little before laughing. “Yeah. We’re… dating, I guess is the word I’m going to use.
Why?” I shoot back.
“Then you must be the mysterious Lydia. I’m Mateo,” he says, holding out his hand.
That’s why he looks familiar. Mateo Hutchenson, Rhett’s best friend and pack mate, takes my
hand when I extend it and turns it over to kiss the back. I blush, and he laughs.
“That’s a very cute look, Lydia. I can see why he’s so infatuated with you,” Mateo comments,
releasing my hand before leaning on the counter.
I laugh and pick up the clipboard to work on the front-of-store inventory. If alphas were so
determined to be in my space today, I wouldn’t let them stop me from doing my job. He watches me
for a few minutes, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. I can hear him tapping on his phone screen a few
times, but he doesn’t make any remarks.
“Are you going to tell him about what happened today?” Mateo asks into the silence.
I look back toward the counter, and I find him lounging against it, legs stretched out and
crossed at the ankles with his hands in his pockets again. He’s moved his sunglasses to hang from the
front of his shirt. I consider his casual posture, how he’s let me have my space and not pushed me into
a conversation. A fan blows a burst of his effervescent citrus scent toward me, making me stand a
little straighter.
“It feels like it’s been handled, don’t you think?” I say, shrugging before turning back to the
shelf I’d been working on.
“I suppose it has. But is there a reason you aren’t going to tell him, even to tell him it’s been
handled?” he continues, dropping his voice conspiratorially.
 I sigh and set down the clipboard before turning back to face him. “As he tells it, you’re his
best friend. I shouldn’t have to tell you how… intense Rhett can be,” I say, choosing my words
thoughtfully.
Mateo lets out another full body laugh. “‘Intense’ is a funny way of spelling ‘overbearing,’” he
says through his laughter.
I roll my eyes. I want to deny it, but Rhett’s protective nature has revealed itself to be a
double-edged sword. I enjoy feeling doted upon and cared for, but after spending two days under the
full force of his attention, I didn’t mind admitting that the break apart was nice. I was starting to miss
him, but I’d spent so much of the last few years alone that I’d had to learn how to adapt and care for
myself. Rhett and I still had to figure out how’d we work together that would accommodate his need
to be a caretaker and still allow me to be independent. I didn’t want to give Rhett a reason to think
that I couldn’t handle myself. And, based on how he reacted to finding out a small part of what my
past held, I really did not want him to learn that incidents like the one with Davis weren’t all that
uncommon.
“If it comes up, I’ll tell him. But I don’t think it’s worth mentioning. It happened, and you
handled it,” I say with a shrug.
“You are not what I expected, Miss Lydia,” Mateo chuckles.
“And what exactly were you expecting, Mr. Hutchenson?” I throw back, smirking.
He’s about to answer when he stops and pulls out his phone. He looks down at it, a groan of
disappointment falling from his lips a moment later.
“So, I know I said I wasn’t going to ask you out, but have you ever been to a drag show? My
friend had something come up and he can’t go anymore,” he asks, looking up at me with an eager
smile.
I blink a little at the conversational whiplash but purse my lips in confusion. “Like with cars?”
I ask slowly.
He lets out a pitying noise that has my cheeks heating. “Please tell me you aren’t doing
anything tonight,” he begs, standing up straight.
“I mean…” I start, biting my lip. My only plans tonight involved calling Rhett, watching trash
reality TV, and going to sleep early.
“Excellent! We’re taking you to Freddy’s, and I’m popping your drag show cherry. It’s been so
long since I’ve brought someone new,” Mateo rambles, moving a step toward me.
I frown, a nagging in the back of my head. Rhett and I never settled on being exclusive, and
considering that he was still openly involved with Lucas, I shouldn’t be worried about accepting. But
I still hesitate.
“Rhett isn’t going to be back in town until tomorrow, right? So go out with me, please. It’ll be
fun,” Mateo begs with a playful pout.
“Will he be mad?” I ask softly.
“That I took you out on the town and showed you a good time? No way. And if he has
something to say, I’ll handle him. He’s got more bark than bite.” Mateo laughs, waving a hand.
“This club… is it safe? Because I’m… well, an omega?” I ask, blushing at how small my
voice is. I’m running out of excuses, even as I find I don’t want to make them.
Mateo’s eagerness cools for a moment as he looks at me. The smile he gives me is soft and
reassuring, and he crosses to me in a few strides of his long legs. He holds up a fist with his pinky
extended. “I won’t let anything happen. Pinky promise.”
And it’s that openness in his face, the absolute honesty in his warm brown eyes that allows me
to relax, wrap my pinky around his, and agree.
 Seventeen
Mateo

“And then I found them at the end of their shifts before they could post up outside of Grandmother
Wila’s and told them that their services were no longer required,” I finish, holding my phone to my
ear with my shoulder as I flick through my wardrobe.
“How did tha’ go?” Rhett says through gritted teeth, his tone dangerous.
“Oh, you know. Davis tried to call Lydia a liar, saying that she was blowing the whole thing out of
proportion. Tried to appeal to my alpha nature, saying that I had to admit that even if she wasn’t a
California 10, she was still an omega. Like that’s a valid reason to harass someone,” I spit, feeling my
blood heat as I recount the conversation.
“What a fucking prick. Make sure him, his entire crew, an’ the agency we got t’em from are
moved onto the blacklist. That’s the kind o’ knothead they’re going ta send us, then they can fucking
pound sand,” Rhett snarls, his accent more pronounced in his anger.
“Already done, brother. Lex is fucking livid and is going to sue them for not properly vetting
their hires. One guy on that crew has a felony DV conviction on his record that they failed to mention.
She’s going to have them served next week.”
“Good.”
I smile in savage satisfaction at the violence in Rhett’s voice. I find a pair of ripped jeans and
a tank top to wear and pull them out before moving back into my bedroom.
“Davis must have been dropped as an infant, though,” I mention, setting my clothes on my bed.
“What clued you in? His utter lack of respect or something else?” Rhett deadpans at me.
“It was him thinking that Lydia’s anything less than an absolute fucking knockout,” I reply.
The line is silent for a long moment. “That so?” he asks at last, tone full of forced neutrality.
“Seriously, Rhett? I thought you were just being cagey because she’s skittish. Now I know it’s
’cause you’re holding out on us. She’s fucking gorgeous, man,” I reply, exasperated but teasing.
“That’s the thing, though, Mat. I don’t know the whole story, but reading between the lines of
what she’s told me, her upbringing put a lot of weird shit in her head. She’s got at least one ex who
was an absolute motherfucker of an alpha and whatever she went through did a number on her. She
holds back, gets lost in her head, and every now and then she spouts out these absolute horseshit lines
about how alphas and omegas are ‘supposed to be,’” he goes on, and I can hear the frustration in his
words.
“Is that why you couldn’t pull the trigger when she was going through her heat?” I ask, unable
to hold the question back.
Rhett lets out a long, heavy sigh. “She deserves the right to decide for herself when she’s
ready to make that step. She’s had enough people, especially alphas, telling her when to jump and just
expecting her to only ask ‘how high?’”
“And if she doesn’t take that step?”
“Then that’s her choice. Mum would have my balls on a fucking platter she ever found out I
disrespected a woman’s right to choose what she does with her own body.” Rhett laughs.
“Maybe Lydia should meet Sarah,” I suggest with a chuckle.
 “Absolutely the fuck not, Mateo. Lydia needs time and patience, not an Irish attitude
adjustment,” Rhett says firmly.
I laugh loudly at the edge of fear that creeps into his tone. I don’t tell Rhett, but something tells
me that Lydia could handle Sarah Cooper-Nolan and her brood of harpy daughters. He hadn’t been
there to see the fire in her emerald eyes as she went toe-to-toe with an alpha on the verge of rage. I’d
seen the hesitance in her when she and I spoke this afternoon, but I could see the confidence there,
too. Time would show what her true nature was, but I have a feeling there’s a fighter hiding inside of
Lydia Anderson. Maybe she just needs the right push, someone to show her she’s free to take the
chance to be herself. Rhett wouldn’t do it; he would stand behind her, ready to catch her if she fell.
But he would never take her hand and make the plunge into the unknown at her side.
“Well, maybe she’ll learn a thing or two at Freddy’s tonight. I’m taking her to see the drag
show,” I say lightly, moving to the bathroom to get ready.
“Mateo, that’s not funny,” Rhett says, his voice strained.
“Good thing I wasn’t telling a joke,” I shoot back flippantly.
“If anything fucking happens to her, I swear to Christ—”
“The only thing that’s going to happen tonight is she’s going to see talented men with their
faces beat to the gods, putting on a damn good show,” I cut across with an exasperated sigh.
“Freddy’s is a safe space, Rhett. There’s a zero-tolerance policy for knotheads and alpha-holes.”
Rhett sighs again, but he knows I’m right. I know the owners, and most of the staff of the club,
and they are good people. It is one of the few places in Everton that a person didn’t have to worry
about their sexuality or designation; they could just have fun.
“I just got off the line with her a few minutes ago. Why wouldn’t she tell me that you’re taking
her out?” he asks suddenly.
“Because she knows you’d react like this,” I reply blandly.
“Point made and taken. Have fun. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon,” Rhett replies with a
resigned chuckle.
“Safe flight. Tell Sarah that her other son loves her.”
We hang up and I turn on the shower. Yes, I would absolutely have fun. And, with any luck,
Lydia would too.

∞∞∞
“Those are the most realistic fake tits I’ve ever seen,” Lydia shouts in my ear over the music.
Watching a drag show through the eyes of someone who’s never been to one has been a rare
treat, especially with someone as curious and enthusiastic as Lydia. She cheers on the drag queen,
Miss Dee Zastris, as she goes into a dead drop at the end of her song. I give Lydia another single, and
she throws it on the stage with a wide smile.
When I picked her up, she’d been pacing on the sidewalk in front of her building. I was late,
having gotten distracted on my way out by some leftovers Luc left on the counter, but I was rather
proud that I’d only managed to be five minutes late. She was wearing a dark purple one shoulder top
with skinny jeans and flats. Her dark honey hair was pulled up in a loosely curled ponytail that hit her
back between her shoulder blades. Despite the simplicity of her outfit, she looks incredible. She’d
worried about being underdressed for a club, but quickly found that she was, in fact, overdressed for
a gay club.
 She was more than a little nervous when we first got to Freddy’s, clinging to my hand in the
crowd. But once the performance started, she had been swept up in the glitter and wigs and camp of it
all, forgetting the crowd and just having fun. Lydia even let a queen use her teeth to take a bill from
between her lips. I’d run into a few friends, but always kept one eye on Lydia. I might have waved off
Rhett’s concerns earlier, but I knew Rhett would not hesitate to end me if I let anything happen to her.
The couple of gin and tonics she’d had came straight from a bartender I could trust, and I watched
everyone around us, letting her just enjoy the experience.
“That was amazing!” Lydia exclaims breathlessly.
The audience disperses now that the show is over, the club music starting up again. I lace my
fingers through Lydia’s and pull her off toward an empty couch near the bar. She flops down next to
me, her eyes wide, and an almost dazed smile splits her face. In a carefully casual maneuver, I stretch
before draping my arm across the back of the couch behind her, leaning in until our sides touch. My
heart skips a beat when she doesn’t move away, but instead shifts to be more comfortable.
“I’m glad you liked it. Do you want something to drink?” I ask.
She shakes her head and continues to watch the crowd. I follow her gaze, smirking at the
people on the dance floor. Bodies grind together, partners changing and hands touching. I look back at
Lydia and find her brow furrowed and a small frown pulling at her lips.
“What’s up, baby?” I ask, leaning in to speak into her ear over the music.
“That girl with the purple hair. She was next to us earlier. She’s an omega. But she’s kissed
that guy behind her, and the girl in front of her in the last couple minutes,” Lydia says, her words
distant.
“If she plays her cards right, she’s probably going to do a lot more than that with them tonight.
What about it?” I reply.
Lydia doesn’t speak again for a long moment, just watching the trio move together to the beat
of the music. I observe her face, and I can almost hear the gears turning in her brain as she tries to
puzzle it out.
“The word you’re looking for is ‘bisexual,’ baby,” I say with a soft laugh in her ear.
She turns to look at me then, and I catch the roll of her eyes. “I know what a bisexual is. I’m
just...” she asks, her voice dropping.
I nod, my brow pulled down now. “Is that a problem?” I ask, hackles rising.
“No, not at all! I mean, Rhett’s with Lucas and me, so no, that’s not—” She cuts herself off,
looking back at the purple-haired girl and her two friends. “I just didn’t think omegas could…”
“Didn’t think omegas could, what?” I ask when she trails off with her eyes thousand yards
away.
“Let’s just dance,” she snaps.
I know a change of subject when I see one, and despite my instinct to push, I allow her to lead
me out into the mess of writhing bodies. I pull her hips to mine so her back is against my front, and
she leans into me, letting my hands guide her through the music. Her hand slides into my hair as she
pulls my face down to rest against her neck. I take a deep breath of her scent, feeling the heat of her
body against mine making my heart kick hard in my chest. I purr as she pushes her ass back against my
cock, her scent making my head spin. My fingers tighten on her sides, and her little whimper barely
reaches my ears over the music.
We dance for several songs, each more frantic and sweaty than the last. I can see beads of
perspiration sliding down her neck, catching the colors of the lights overhead. Before I can help
myself, I lean in a lick away the drops, the lilac and lavender taste of her skin filling my mouth and
chasing away every other thought. She whimpers, nails digging into my forearms as I wrap them
around her stomach to hold her even closer. She molds perfectly against me, every curve of her body
soft and inviting. Her head is resting on my shoulder as we writhe together, and my eyes scan the
crowd, my guard up with her in my arms. A sharp look and a low growl chases away a beta who tries
to press Lydia between us. He’s cute and everything, but Lydia is mine tonight.
We take a break to do a couple rounds of shots at the bar, and then we’re back on the dance
floor. With her in my arms, the world falls away. I only hear her breathing, and occasionally her
singing along to the music. I can only smell lilacs and lavender and earthy rain. My stomach flutters,
my heart feeling like a bird trapped in my ribs. She fills every part of me, carving a space in my mind
that I don’t mind relenting. She’s so different from anything I’d expected to find. I imagined her as
some demure, wilting thing, but her fierce soul calls to me in a way I’ve never experienced before. At
some point, a body slides up behind me and my eyes snap open at Lydia’s growl as she turns to glare
at whoever’s behind me. The person backs off, and I catch the satisfied gleam in Lydia’s jewel bright
eyes.
Lydia’s arm wraps around my neck and that intoxicating honey and vanilla scent rolling off her
fills my senses. I pull her close, one of my legs between hers as we move together. I wrap an arm
around her waist, burying my nose in her shoulder. My other hand slides into her hair, and I clutch the
silky strands between my fingers. My skin tingles wherever she touches me, and I close my eyes to
bask in her glow.
“You smell so fucking good, baby,” I moan into her ear.
“Get me out of here,” Lydia whispers, her voice shaking.
I pull back sharply, all of my desire falling away at the absolute terror I can hear in her voice.
But before I can get a good look at her, she’s pulling me down into a kiss. It’s aggressive, full of heat
and something I can’t quite identify. I moan into her, coherent thought abandoning me at the feel of her
soft lips moving with mine, mouth parting enough for me to slip my tongue into her mouth. She tastes
better than she smells, sweet and cool and earthy. Her nails dig into my scalp, and I pull her closer,
swallowing her whimper as our tongues twine.
“Where do you want to go?” I ask against her mouth, trying to push my lust aside to make sure
she’s okay.
“Anywhere. I just need to be anywhere but here,” she whimpers, her nails digging into my hair
harder.
I nod once and kiss her again, losing myself for a moment in the feel of her mouth on mine.
When we break away, I untangle my hand from her hair and lace my fingers through hers and head
toward the door.
 Eighteen
Lydia

An omega like you.

The words play over and over in my head as Mateo guides me through the dance. My eyes
close, and I swallow against the lump in my throat. The music feels like it’s coming from the other
end of a tunnel, and I hardly feel the press of Mateo’s fingers on my hips, the slide of his tongue along
the column of my neck. The words in my head morph from Davis’s boyish sneer to my mother’s shrill
southern squawk to his condescending tenor.
An omega like you can’t be getting offers like this all that often.
An omega like you shouldn’t be having those sorts of thoughts.
An omega like you should consider herself lucky that I’m still here.
An omega like you…
I drag Mateo off the dance floor when the spiral of remembered words gets too loud in my
head, and we order several shots. I let the burn fill me, trying to break out of the loop of my
memories. But the distraction is over before it can do any good, and Mateo is pulling me back onto
the dancefloor. Someone moves up behind Mateo, and the flash of red hair turns my veins to ice even
as a growl escapes my lips.
Mateo holds me close, his thigh slipping between mine as my arm hooks around his neck. I
can barely smell Mateo in the crowd, even pressed against him. His lemonade scent floats among
others: cherries, patchouli, verbena, motor oil, pine tar, yeast. I try to breathe through my mouth, but
the scent of tobacco hits me, and I squeeze my eyes against the images that flood my mind.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Darren snarls, fist in my hair.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I squeak, keeping my eyes down.
He drags me away from the wall before pushing me back, and it knocks the air out of me for
a moment. His scent of clay and tobacco chokes me as I try to get my lungs to cooperate again.
“You’re just a dirty, unnatural, lying slut, aren’t you? I know all about the girl at the party,
my petal. About how you danced, and how she touched you. And how you liked it,” he shouts, his
hand coming up to my throat and forcing my chin up to look into my eyes.
“It was just a dance, Darren,” I whimper, tears escaping my eyes.
“I’m out of town for one fucking weekend, and you find the first opportunity to sneak out.
You’re such a pathetic whore, you know that. Can’t even go three days without something in your
cunt, can you.” He spits in my face, the splatter of his saliva worse than his words.
“I’m sorry,” I sob, trying to shrink under his gaze.
“‘I’m sorry,’ what, omega,” he snarls.
“I’m sorry, Alpha?” I whimper, exposing my neck.
“An omega like you should be grateful for an alpha like me. Especially a slutty bitch like
you, willing to fuck anything.”
“Yes, Alpha. Thank you, Alpha.”
“Good. Now get down and put that whore’s mouth to better use.”
 “You smell so fucking good, baby.”
Mateo’s voice pulls me back, and I press my face to his shoulder, inhaling a deep lungful of
his scent. The sharp, clean smell of ozone fills my nose, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand
on end. My chest feels tight, and the room is suddenly blazing. Mateo’s face is buried in my neck, his
cheek rubbing against me. The crowd closes in around me, the pounding of the bass in my ears too
loud. My skin is crawling, and I press closer to Mateo, his citrus and lightning scent the only thing that
makes sense.
“Get me out of here,” I breathe, my throat tight.
He pulls back, face pulled into lines of concern. I don’t give him time to inspect me, to see the
rising tide of panic in my eyes. I pull him down by the back of his neck, my lips claiming his. Mateo
tastes like summer: lemonade and afternoon storms. The kiss is brutal, a clash of lips and teeth and
tongues, but the taste of him and the feel of his hands makes the noise in my head disappear for a
moment.
“Where do you want to go?” he rasps, and I feel the words against my mouth more than I hear
them.
“Anywhere. I just need to be anywhere but here,” I reply, digging my nails into his scalp.
Maybe he would read my need to get out of my head, as well as out of this club, in my eyes.
Mateo kisses me again, a quick but intense meeting of lips before pulling me off the
dancefloor and out of the club. Out on the street, the night air is humid, and I feel sticky with sweat
that doesn’t seem to go away as we walk down the sidewalk away from the entrance and toward the
parking lot. I veer toward Mateo’s car, but he tugs on my hand, stopping me. I turn back toward him,
frowning in confusion. To my surprise, Mateo’s smile is gentle, eyes soft and body relaxed.
“Come on. I want to show you something,” he says, nodding off down the street.
I look around, but the only other people are too busy heading into Freddy’s to notice us. I nod
hesitantly, moving to Mateo’s side. I look around, still feeling jumpy and clammy, each shadow
making me tense. Mateo doesn’t speak but lets go of my hand to slide an arm around my waist, pulling
me to his side. He adjusts his stride to match mine, even as I let him lead us along the dark city
streets.
“Where are we going?” I ask after a while, keeping my voice low.
“Somewhere special, I promise. Only a handful of people know about this, which reminds
me.”
Mateo stops, and his arm pulls me to a halt as well. I look up into his face, and I furrow my
brow at the suddenly serious expression he’s wearing. He glances around, and I mirror the action.
We’ve walked half a dozen blocks from the club and left the noise and bustle behind. The buildings
are thinning out, not as tall here. When I look back at Mateo’s face, his tawny eyes glint
mischievously in the orange glow of the streetlights.
“What I’m about to show you only works because no one knows about it. Promise me you
won’t tell a soul, not even Rhett,” Matt says emphatically.
“Mateo, what are—”
“Promise me, Lydia,” Mateo pushes, cutting across me.
I pause, looking at him skeptically. He promised to not let anything happen to me, and he’s
held up his end of the bargain so far. His scent is bright with lemons and sugar, despite the serious set
to his brow.
“It’s not illegal, is it?” I whisper, looking around again.
Mateo chuckles. “No, but I still want your oath of secrecy. Trust me; it’s worth it.”
 I study his face again as I wait for my instincts to warn me away. But Mateo looks at me with
eagerness in his little grin, and my heart dips as I realize I do trust him. I have since the moment I met
him.
“Promise. But this better be good,” I say at last.
Mateo’s smile widens for a moment before he leans down and slants his lips over mine in a
brief but intense kiss. My stomach swoops like I’ve just gone over the first hill on a roller coaster, my
head spinning with the lemonade scent of him. He pulls away, wrapping his arm around my waist
again, guiding in the direction we’d been heading.
The silence stretches between us, and I can feel my memories creeping back in. I look around,
trying to find something to talk about but come up short.
“What brought you here?” I blurt, throwing out the first thing I can think of.
“This moment or Everton?” Mateo replies, unruffled.
“The city, I guess,” I say, trying to focus on the sound of his voice, the warmth of his body
pressed against mine.
“Rhett and I came here with Lex. She had her sights set on restoring Bright Hills, and no one
wanted to take the job but us crazy bastards,” Mateo starts with a fond sigh.
“How did you meet her?” I ask, curiosity replacing the anxious churning in my gut.
Mateo looks down at me for a moment, smirking. “We were trying to get our business off the
ground, and Rhett had this feeling about going to a trade conference in Las Vegas. It cost us almost
every penny we had to get a flight and hotels and admission, but Rhett was adamant about this one.
And it led us to Lex. He’s been smug about it ever since.”
Mateo and I laugh at his joke, and I relax a little in his embrace, resting my head in the crook
of his arm. His scent is clean and fresh, a metallic ozone undercurrent that enhances the tart lemonade
taste on my tongue. My body still hums from the aftermath of his kiss, and the way he holds me close
as we walk. I can feel the steady thumping of his heart, and I let my mind empty as I focus on the
sound.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks gently.
I sigh heavily, feeling my face drop. “When I was a kid, my parents thought I was going to
present as an alpha,” I start, picking my words with care.
“No kidding,” Mateo huffs sarcastically.
“Yeah, no kidding. I was friends with everyone, always standing up for the underdog on the
playground. My school was small, but I knew everybody in my grade, and the ones above and below
me. My parents, my mom especially, were so proud to have a social butterfly for a daughter. I
remember having one really close friend in elementary school, Brittany. She had the most beautiful
curly red hair, and we were inseparable,” I explain, trailing off as the memory comes back.
“I’m sensing a but coming on,” Mateo says cautiously.
“Yeah. My parents thought it was cute that Brittany and I were so close, calling each other
wifey and making promises to get married if we were still single when we turned twenty-five. But
then middle school came, and when Brittany presented as a beta, and I presented as an omega,
suddenly my wifey and our plan were unacceptable and unnatural,” I finish, swallowing against the
sudden lump in my throat.
Mateo’s grip tightens on my waist, but he doesn’t speak for a long stretch. I look up at him as
we’re waiting to cross at a crosswalk, and his face is set in a stony glare into the middle distance. I
swallow again, looking down at my feet as we start walking again. My skin flushes, embarrassment
filling me. He’d asked about tonight, not my life story. Did I overstep? His face is still stony,
unreadable for the first time since I’d met him. I try to steady my heart, but it kicks as nervousness
overwhelms my senses.
“My family disowned me when I brought home my first boyfriend,” Mateo says suddenly, his
voice making me jump.
My feet pull to a sudden stop, and Mateo turns back to face me. My heart slams in my chest,
and I have to fight to pull my jaw off the ground. Mateo’s expression doesn’t change from that cool
frown, but he tilts his head slightly in silent question. All of my nervousness drains, leaving me
feeling cold and unbalanced.
“How... when did they—”
“Tell me to fuck off? Junior year of college. I’d had partners of every gender before that, but
Alex was the first one I wanted to introduce to my family. My mom was so nasty that Alex ended up
leaving halfway through dinner, and my dad told me I had an hour to pack whatever I wanted and
never darken their door again,” Mateo explains, shoving his hands in his pockets.
I take a few steps to close the distance between us, reaching out slowly to rest one hand on his
forearm. My heart aches in my chest, and I hum softly, trying to soothe his pain. Mateo takes a deep
breath and chuckles to himself, but the sound lacks any genuine humor.
“It worked out for the best, honestly. Alex is still a good friend, and Rhett’s mom, Sarah, took
me in, no questions asked. Wanna know the best part?” Mateo says, still chuckling ironically.
I look up into his face, and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I slide my arms across his
waist until I’m pressed against him. I nod, captivated by the warring emotions in his eyes.
“They had the fucking nerve to ask me for money a few years back, after it came out that I’d
joined Lex’s pack and the business was finally making a profit. And I got the supreme pleasure of
having security escort them from the building,” Mateo says, smile finally turning warm.
I smile back, though I still pucker my brow in confusion. Mateo pulls his hands from his
pockets and wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me close. I can feel the flex of his muscles
against my skin, and I shiver despite the warmth in the humid air.
“It’s the best part because I get to be my authentic self while they’re broke and miserable.
Your parents might have taught you that whatever you felt tonight, or back in the day with Brittany,
was wrong. But it’s not. One day, you’re going to be able to be exactly who you want to be, and love
whoever you want. And you’ll be happy, and they’ll still be bigoted and miserable,” Mateo says
emphatically.
My heart squeezes as he talks, the hope and confidence in his face infectious. Mateo leans
down and kisses me again, softer this time, but still dripping with emotion. I melt into him, humming a
little with pleasure. When Mateo pulls away, I can feel his smile and I can’t help but return the
expression.
“Come on, it’s just up here,” Mateo says at last, turning to walk again.
I slide one of my arms free, keeping the other slung across his waist with my thumb hooked
through one of his belt loops. His arm is a warm, solid weight across my shoulders, and I sigh
contentedly. Mateo leads us to the end of the block, turning the corner. And what I see has me stopping
in my tracks.
 Nineteen
Lydia

“Mateo, why are we at a Denny’s?” I blurt, staring at the glowing yellow sign ahead of us.
Mateo turns to me with an impish grin. “This is where the magic is,” he says dramatically.
“I’m not in the mood to get an indecent exposure ticket tonight.” I snort, shaking my head.
Mateo rolls his eyes before stepping into my space. “It’s not that kind of magic. Not yet, at
least,” he says, voice dropping nearly a whole octave as he leans down to speak into my ear.
I shiver, closing my eyes and sucking in a sharp breath. Mateo’s soft laugh brushes over my
cheek, smelling of sharp ozone and a hint of the whiskey we’d had earlier. He takes my hand and
leads me across the deserted parking lot. I’m still brimming with questions as he pulls open the door
and leads us past the empty hostess station to a booth in the back corner. I try to protest, but Mateo
slides into the vinyl seat, patting the bench beside him. I look around the empty restaurant and
hesitantly take the offered seat. Mateo wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side
again.
“Denise? Are you on tonight?” Mateo shouts over my head.
I jump at the sudden noise, pulling Mateo’s attention down to me. I blush, looking at the table
to avoid the question in his eyes.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” a booming male voice calls from behind us.
I turn to look, and my eyes widen as I take in the barrel-chested behemoth of a man crossing
the room in our direction. Mateo throws his head back and laughs, leaning over me to shake the man’s
hand when he’s close enough. Up close, I can smell the grease from his apron, but his scent of dark
spiced rum, cherries, and salt pushes through. I look up at the alpha, his deeply tanned face pulled up
in a grin, laugh lines deep. His hair is black, with matching stubble along his jaw and neck.
“I’m like a bad penny, Raph. Just when you think you’ve gotten rid of me, I come back
’round,” Mateo jokes, settling back in his spot beside me.
“At least you were kind enough to bring a new friend. How’re ya doing, gorgeous?” the man,
Raph, says, turning his hazel gaze on me.
Mateo’s grip tightens, and I shrink back, dropping my gaze to the table. I feel Mateo’s growl
rumbling through my arm, his scent shifting away from ozone and toward burnt grass. Raph holds up
his hands in a gesture of surrender, shaking his head.
“I’m only pulling your leg. You know Destiny’s about y’all’s age now.” Raph laughs, the
sound booming from his gut.
Mateo stops growling, but keeps his grip on my shoulders tight, his other hand settling on my
knee.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Lydia,” I say, trying to break the tension.
I hold out my hand and Raph’s giant one engulfs it as we shake. I can feel Mateo’s eyes on me
like a touch, hot and heavy. I pull away, intentionally turning to hook one of my legs over Mateo’s
knee and cuddling down into Mateo’s embrace. The movement seems to settle Mateo, as his posture
finally relaxes.
Raph rolls his eyes but winks at me and Mateo. “Got the good stuff for you, Matty. Whipped it
up this past weekend.”
Mateo nods, a low chuckle vibrating against my back. Raph walks away, heading toward the
kitchen, and Mateo shifts under me until I’m sitting sideways, both of my legs draped across his lap.
He rests a hand on my knee, the arm around my shoulders, casual but proprietary in the best way. I
trace a small hole in his tank top with my finger, and he purrs at my touch.
“Mateo Hutchenson! As I live and breathe!”
Mateo looks up at the sound of the woman’s voice, but I’m too distracted by his jawline and
luminescent smile to follow his gaze right away. When I manage to tear my eyes off his face, I see a
server crossing the dining room toward us. She’s older, her beta scent muted behind scent-blockers,
only a hint of carrot cake coming through. Her wispy gray hair is pulled back with a scrunchy, glasses
hanging from a glittering chain around her neck. She smiles at Mateo, an open and relaxed expression
that helps set my mind at ease. She doesn’t wait for an invitation before sliding into the booth across
from us.
“Hello, you. I’d’ve thought you done forgot about us if I didn’t see you in the paper all the
time,” the beta says, voice raspy with age and cigarette use.
“Lexi’s got me running all over Hell’s half acre these days, but I’d never forget your beautiful
face, Denise,” Mateo says fondly.
Denise blushes and laughs, batting a hand in the air toward Mateo. “You flatter an old lady.
And in front of your girl, too. I’m Denise, honey.”
She extends a wrinkled hand, and we shake, feeling more relaxed by the minute.
“Lydia, and I’m—”
“Did you ever hear back about Grayson’s school?” Mateo asks cutting across me before I can
correct her.
Denise rolls her eyes. “We did. And we’re set to go when he turns four. Can’t believe we
have to get on a pre-k waitlist three years in advance. He’s still on the tit, and his momma’s got to
worry about kindergarten. As if kids don’t grow up fast enough.”
Mateo and I laugh, and I listen as they go back and forth, catching up on what’s happened
since the last time they met. I relax into Mateo, feeling supremely at ease in his arms in this chain
restaurant in the middle of the night. His fingers trace nonsensical patterns on my knee, and I don’t fail
to notice how they seem to creep higher at long intervals.
“Oh! But look at me running away at the mouth. Y’all’re probably starved. Raphael’s got his
newest batch in the back. Want your usual, Matty?” Denise says suddenly.
“Sure thing. Lydia’ll have the same if that’s okay?” Mateo responds, looking down at me as he
asks.
I nod, smiling slightly. Denise smiles back and winks.
“I’ll leave you kids be. Food’ll be up in two shakes,” she says, getting to her feet.
Mateo and I watch her go, and I feel his lips brush the top of my head. My stomach dips at the
casual affection, and I can’t help the little preening wiggle of my shoulders. Mateo chuckles, holding
me tighter.
“So, what’s so special about this place and why do I have to keep it a secret?” I ask, curiosity
finally getting the better of me.
Mateo hums a laugh. “Raphael. He used to be a master brewer and distiller with Anheuser-
Busch, but the schedule kept him away from his kids and too close to his drug of choice.”
“Drug of choice?” I ask, the phrase sounding familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d heard it.
He sighs heavily. “Everyone has one, but it’s just a matter of how hard that vice will fuck you
once you’ve got it. Raph’s was beer. He can drink spirits until the cows come home and still be Mr.
Sunshine the next day. But beer makes him... bad.”
I nod solemnly, looking toward the kitchen where I can see Raph moving around, head
bobbing to the radio I can hear playing faintly.
“But after he got sober, he still had kids to put through college. So, he started here, working
the night shift so he could be with his family more while his wife worked during the day. Didn’t stop
him from turning his shed into his own personal distillery and laboratory,” Mateo continues with a
chuckle.
I snap my head around and look up at his amused smirk. “So what? He serves bathtub gin and
’shine here after dark? Without a liquor license?” I ask, dropping my voice to a low hiss.
Mateo outright laughs, throwing his head back. “Oh, no. He just makes the best damn alcohol-
infused toppings on planet Earth, which he’ll let interested buyers sample before selling it to them
after the meal. He made this incredible raspberry vodka compote a few months back, and I only got a
jar because I’ve invested in his operation. And we have to keep it a secret, so we don’t have
untrustworthy Karens reporting him for going off menu.”
I simply stare, mouth agape. Of all the things I expected, a backdoor boozy jam salesperson
was the last thing on my list. Mateo laughs again, pulling me in and kissing the top of my head. I’m
still processing what he’s told me when Denise brings us mugs of coffee, letting us know that our food
is almost ready. I wait until Mateo takes two packets of sugar for his cup, then swiping the rest and
pouring them into mine. He chuckles to himself but doesn’t say anything, taking a sip.
Silence settles between us, and I hold my coffee in my hands, enjoying the warmth. It’s good
for chain diner coffee, and I suspect Denise made it fresh. Mateo’s hand around my shoulder drifts
until his fingers find my hair, playing with it absently as he looks out of the window. As the silence
stretches, I can feel my earlier anxiety creeping back in. I try to keep my breathing even, but without
the distraction of his voice, it gets harder.
“How did you and Rhett meet?” I ask, blurting out the first question that comes to mind.
Mateo turns his attention back to me, taking another drink of his coffee. “We were assigned as
roommates our freshman year of college. And I’m pretty sure that if we’d been allowed to change
rooms that first year, he would have.”
I blink at him, confused. “But he’s in love with you.”
“Did he say that? Sappy bastard.” Mateo shakes his head, but the smile pulling on his lips is
soft. “He may feel that way now, but to this day, I’m genuinely surprised that he didn’t murder me in
my sleep before the end of our first semester.”
“Were you that bad?”
“I was a teenager. Of course, I was an obnoxious prick. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t also an
insufferable asshole.”
“What changed?”
“I fucked his sister.”
I stare at him, my jaw practically unhinged, unable to even shake myself from my stupor when
Denise appears at the table, setting down plates of pancakes and a mason jar of dark red compote.
Mateo looks down at me when I don’t answer for a moment, stifling his laughter to a snort. I untangle
myself from his arms and put a little distance between us. Mateo reaches for the compote, scooping
some out with his spoon.
“Listen, it wasn’t like I did it with the express goal of pissing him off. Rhett had this chip on
his shoulder from the word go, like he had something to prove. Maybe it was because he was a
scholarship kid at an elite school, but whatever it was, he was so uptight all the time. He was
unbelievably competitive, honestly still is, but it was out of control back then. If I signed up to rush a
fraternity, he had to sign up for a more exclusive one. If I was taking twelve credit hours, he had to
take fifteen. He was the only one competing in the pissing contest, but it still pissed me off.
“So, I decided to fuck with him. I pulled crazy stunt after crazy stunt, just to get a rise out of
him. He gave as good as he got, and I thought I had him when I streaked at the pep rally. But then he
took it upon himself to find out who I was flirting with and bring them back to the dorm, just at the
right moment for me to walk in and see him fucking them. It happened one too many times, so when
his family came up for a visit, I pulled Katie under the bleachers.”
I set about dressing my pancakes as he talks, but I can hardly keep my eyes from him. I can see
the fondness in his eyes even as his mouth pulls into a devilish smirk as he recalls the story. He cuts
into his food, groaning at the first bite. The noise sends a shiver down my spine, and I feel my face
growing hotter at the expression of unrestrained pleasure.
I wonder if that’s the face he’d make when he—
“I thought you didn’t do it to piss him off,” I say, pulling my head out of the gutter.
Mateo rolls his eyes, taking another big bite. “Well, I didn’t do it only to piss him off. Katie’s
a couple years younger than us, and she was single at the time.”
“How did that fix anything?” I ask, cutting out a bite of my pancake.
“Oh, it wasn’t me fucking Katie that fixed anything. It was when we beat the shit out of each
other after Rhett found out,” he says, barely holding back a laugh.
I freeze with my fork halfway to my mouth, staring at him with wide eyes. “You what?”
Mateo throws his head back and lets out a bark of a laugh, waving at me with his fork to eat.
“Oh, yeah. Did you know that Rhett’s a trained fighter? He never wants to go pro or anything, but he
practices all sorts of different styles to keep his ungodly temper in check. I told him it was cliche,
being Irish and liking to fight, but that’s a story for another time.”
He pauses and takes another bite, and I finally take my first bite. I can taste the bite of alcohol
under the sour cherries, but it doesn’t diminish the incredible flavor. I have to hold back my moan, but
I don’t manage it quick enough, Mateo purring in response. The sound makes goosebumps rise on my
arms, and I feel my heartbeat pulsing between my thighs. His scent has been bright and sweet, but it
takes a sudden turn into sharp, metallic ozone. I look up at him, breath catching in my throat at the heat
in his eyes. I lick away a bit of cherry from my bottom lip, and Mateo’s eyes track the movement, the
soft brown of his irises disappearing as his pupils dilate.
“So, you can fight, too?” I ask, surprised by how breathless my voice is.
Mateo stares at my mouth for another moment before dragging his eyes back to mine.
“Yeah, but I never had a trainer or anything. Just an asshole older brother who liked to get his
friends together and jump me on my walk home from school,” he explains, clearing his throat a little.
I nod, taking another bite of my pancake. The topping has soaked into the fluffy confection, and
I feel a little dribble on my chin. Before I can do anything, Mateo’s thumb is there, gathering the drop.
I open my mouth on instinct, and Mateo sucks in a sharp breath as he slowly slides the digit between
my lips. I hold eye contact as I lick his finger clean, and he growls low in his chest. My pussy throbs,
and I feel the wetness soaking my panties. He pulls his thumb free with a pop, his hand sliding down
my throat until he’s cupping the back of my neck.
“It’s good, right?” Mateo whispers huskily.
I nod vaguely, not even sure what I’m agreeing to.
“When we’re done here, what do you want to happen?” he asks softly.
 I bite my lower lip, hesitating. Rhett and I never talked about being exclusive, and he wanted
to take our sexual relationship slow. But Mateo… There was something there, a pull I’d never
experienced before. I didn’t want this night to ever end. I feel so safe with Mateo, and his affable
demeanor and infectious excitement for life were hard to resist.
“I don’t want to be alone,” I say at last, trailing off as I try to figure out how to put my feelings
into words.
“Rhett is a lot of things, but jealous isn’t one of them. But if he has a problem with you and
me, I’ll handle him. I’ve kicked his ass once, and I’m not afraid to do it again,” he says, smirking.
I smile fondly, something settling in my chest. Mateo’s promise to keep me safe means the
world, even if he doesn’t know it. I’ve known him for less than a day, but this pull between us feels
inexorable.
Maybe it’s the quiet and seclusion of being in this liminal space, or the booze in the cherry
compote giving me the boost in confidence, but I take the leap before I lose my nerve. I slide across
the vinyl bench, resting my hand on his chest before leaning up, stopping when my lips are a hair’s
breadth from his. He goes still, letting me into his space without protest.
“Then take me home, Mateo,” I whisper, leaning in and claiming his mouth with mine.
 Twenty
Lydia

The Uber back to FreddY’s and the following drive pass in a silent blur. Mateo’s hands stay in
contact with my skin, and each brush fills my body with electric excitement. We don’t exchange
words, speaking with our hands and eyes until the only thing I can feel as we park in a reserved space
is molten anticipation. All hesitation or worry fades when he smiles, when his eyes roam my body
with hunger and awe all wrapped in one.
Mateo pulls me across the empty lobby of Wickland House practically at a jog. We reach the
bank of elevators, and he slaps his wallet against a scanner before taking my hips in his hands and
pushing me against the wall next to the door. His mouth is on mine again, hot and insistent, and the
sharp edge of his teeth on my lips makes me moan, my back arching. The elevator rings, and Mateo
doesn’t break the kiss as he loops his hands under my thighs, making me wrap them around his waist,
and carries me into the wall just inside the carriage. His hips pin me against the wall as the doors
slide closed.
“Mateo, cameras,” I pant, trying to pull away.
I whine as he grinds his cock against my core, taking my earlobe between his teeth for a
moment before releasing. He lets me down with a little growl, turning to pull my back to his front as
he leans into the corner of the car. He continues to kiss at the back of my neck, slowly rolling his hips
against my ass. My eyes slide closed, giving in to the sensations.
“Kinda hot, though. The thought that someone could be watching,” he whispers, playful but
husky.
He nips at the top of my spine, and my knees tremble. I bite back a moan when he slides his
thigh between my legs, his hands on my hips, guiding me to rock against the corded muscle. I flush but
can’t deny the idea that some half-asleep security guard could look at a screen and see me riding
Mateo’s thigh, makes me wet. I nod, clutching at Mateo’s tattooed wrists.
“If Rhett ever gets his head out of his ass and makes a move, I’d love to watch him fuck you.
And then, of course, I’d fuck you. Then maybe we’d both fuck you. What do you think about that,
baby?”
Mateo’s almost flippant tone as he whispers in my ear nearly takes the strength out of my legs.
His hands move in a smooth caress across my stomach, up to take hold of a breast in each hand,
squeezing.
“Holy shit, yes,” I gasp, throwing my head back.
“What’s off the table for tonight, baby?” Mateo asks, tone darker and the slight growl under it
helps clear my head for a moment.
“Um… mean names. Spitting,” I pant, opening my eyes and swallowing a little.
“Not a problem. Can I put my hands on your throat?” he asks, softening a little.
I consider and nod as the thought makes my pussy quiver. He chuckles, nipping at my neck
again. I whimper at a particularly hard one and pull away slightly.
“Just… don’t bite to break the skin, if you can,” I mumble, my face heating.
“Understood. If you need to stop at any time, baby, do not hesitate to tell me. I don’t care if
I’m balls deep inside of you, on the edge of coming. You say the word, and we’re done, okay?”
Mateo puts a hand under my chin and turns me to face him and look up at him. His fawn-
colored eyes spark, but the sincerity there takes my breath away. I smile and nod, and he leans down
to give me a gentle kiss that has my toes curling in my flats.
The elevator dings, and the door slides open. Mateo grins wickedly at me before he drops his
shoulder and grabs me around my knees, throwing me across his back as he charges out of the
elevator. I let out a surprised scream as he jogs across an open space, my shoes falling off along the
way. He sets me down, only to push me against the wall next to a door. The growl in his throat makes
my thighs clench, my moan swallowed by his mouth on me again. His hands are at the hem of my shirt,
sliding under it to wrap around my lower back, his hands hot on my already flushed skin. My own
hands move down his bare arms, drifting to scrape my nails along his stomach. I feel the muscles flex,
responding to my touch.
We break the kiss long enough to rip off our shirts, throwing them into the darkness of the
room. Mateo wraps an arm around my waist, holding me against his chest as his tongue continues to
move with mine. His free hand finds the handle of the door behind us, and he shoves it open. He
walks me backwards into the room, his fingers finding the clasp of my bra as he kicks the door
closed. With practiced ease, he pops the hooks and pulls it away before throwing it to the side.
“Is there anyone else here?” I gasp when his mouth trails down my chin and throat.
“Just you and me, baby,” Mateo says against my collarbone.
“Good,” I growl, my hands going to the buckle of his belt.
He laughs, taking my breasts in his hands again, squeezing them as his thumbs roll across my
nipples. I throw back my head, gripping his shoulders as his mouth closes over the right one, my moan
almost a growl when he bites down gently. His answering growl sends a throb of need straight to my
core.
He walks me backwards again, and my legs hit something soft, taking them out from under me.
I fall back against a bed with a soft “oof,” laughing a little at my clumsiness. I look at him in the semi-
darkness, admiring the tattoos that cover his forearms and parts of his biceps. I glimpse a tattoo on his
left side, two lines of text that seem to match the one I saw on Rhett. I swallow and start to crawl
backwards up the bed, but Mateo growls.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He laughs, grabbing me by the ankle.
I yelp as he pulls me down back to the edge, but it turns into a gasp as his mouth comes down
on my breasts again. His hands skate over my sides, raising goosebumps in their wake, until he finds
the buttons of my jeans and deftly pops them. His hands slide below the loosened waistband, and I lift
my hips to help him pull my jeans down, his fingers also taking my panties along with them. I hear
them hit the floor but forget all about my clothes as Mateo runs his teeth over my nipples. One of his
hands comes back up to cup a breast as the other slides between my thighs. I hitch a leg up, opening to
allow him access. At the first touch of his fingers on my drenched pussy, I shudder and whine, heart
skipping a beat.
“Absolutely soaked for me, baby,” he whispers, almost to himself.
“Mateo…” I moan as his fingers run up and down my outer lips, spreading my cream.
He laughs darkly, his fingers finding my swollen clit. I shout out a curse, back bowing at the
touch even as delicious pleasure spirals in my belly. His knee nudges my legs wider, opening me
further for him. He slips a finger inside my channel, and I can’t fight the keening whine that falls from
my throat, my hands balling into fists in the bedspread. His thumb continues to circle my clit as his
finger works me, curling and scraping that perfect spot inside of me that has me hurtling toward
release. He drops to his knees between my legs, throwing my calves over his shoulders and yanking
my hips to the very edge of the mattress.
Mateo adds a second finger to the first, pumping in and out with deliberate thrusts. I let out a
long groan at the stretch, each brush of his hand sending bolts of white-hot pleasure up my skin. He
blows a soft stream of cool air against my core, making me shudder and clench around his fingers, my
whole body breaking out in goosebumps. At the first brush of his tongue against my clit, my eyes roll
back into my head, stars bursting and my moans reaching new volumes I didn’t know I was capable
of. He sucks and swirls the bud in his mouth while his fingers continue their relentless pace. I buck
against him, trying to escape the overwhelming coil of pleasure tightening in my gut, even while my
hands find Mateo’s hair and hold him against me.
“I’m so close, Mateo. Please, please,” I beg between heaving breaths.
He pushes deep, curling his fingers to apply hard pressure to that sweet spot, and his tongue
flicks over my clit with renewed speed. My voice rises higher and higher as I reach the tipping point.
I can feel my heartbeat from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. My heels dig into Mateo’s back,
my muscles coiling tighter and tighter. My panting breaths hiss through my gritted teeth. When he
sucks my clit again, teeth scraping delicately, I fall with a scream, his name a chant and a prayer. He
works me through the aftershocks, tongue delving to lick where his fingers meet my slit, moaning as
he tastes my release. His ozone scent floods the room, sending a new wave through my already
fluttering pussy.
I lay back, staring at the ceiling while trying to catch my breath, and Mateo’s mouth slows to a
stop. I feel him press a kiss to the inside of my thigh before he withdraws, the little affectionate
gesture making my racing heart skip a beat. I hear the buckle of Mateo’s belt jangle, and the rustle of
fabric. A moment later, he’s helping me move up the bed, lips finding mine again. I can taste my
essence, sweet and floral, mixed with his own flavor, and it sends another rush of shudders down my
spine. My hands run along the contours of his deceptively muscled chest, tracing the lines of his abs
as he holds himself above me. My fingers trail lower, finding him naked now too, and his cock hard
and pulsing between us.
At the first brush of my hand against him, Mateo pulls back from the kiss with a hissing moan.
He hangs his head, shoulders shaking as I run my thumb over the slit, spreading his pre-cum over the
head. I work the length of him slowly, taking my time to feel every contour and vein along his
considerable length. I smile to myself at the way his breath catches on my squeezing downstrokes, and
I slow my pace, earning a low growl. He thrusts into my hand as I circle my palm over his tip, my
hand coming away sticky. He looks up at me again, and in the darkness, I can see the predatory look
on his face as he growls, his breath hot against my skin. I smile to myself in triumph and kiss him
again softly, swallowing his moan as I squeeze his base.
“Birth control?” he pants into my mouth.
“Implant. Condom?” I ask, increasing my pace.
“One sec,” Mateo says, rolling over toward the edge of the bed.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I hear a drawer opening and closing, followed by
the ripping of a foil package. My orgasm has my body relaxed, even as my mind whirls with
anticipation. I take another shaky breath to settle myself, smiling slightly. Suddenly, hands are on my
hips, and I squeak as Mateo pulls me to straddle him with almost no effort. I manage to swing my leg
over in time, and I can feel him beneath me, now with protection covering him from root to tip. I put
my hands on his chest, rocking against him, humming at the feeling of his hard length as it runs along
my sensitive clit and entrance. He throws his head back against the pillows, and I can see the vein in
his neck jump.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans, fingers digging hard enough into my ass to bruise.
I smile, lifting enough to take him in my hand and guide him to my entrance. He goes still as I
slowly sink down, each inch stretching my walls as I take his cock deep inside me. He’s big, the blunt
head of him touching places I didn’t know it was possible to reach. I arch when he shifts below me,
and the fullness of him takes my breath away. I lean forward, my hands braced on his chest as I roll
my hips until he’s just barely inside of me. Mateo growls as I sink back down, hands still on my hips
but he doesn’t try to make me go faster. I close my eyes, smile on my face as I fuck him, my pace slow
but deep. I adjust my angle, and then he’s hitting me just right with every thrust.
“You are so fucking gorgeous. Taking my cock so good,” Mateo moans, thrusting up to meet
me.
I open my eyes and find his eyes locked on my face with reverent intensity. My pace falters,
heart in my throat. He’s looking at me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen, and I flush hot
even as my stomach lurches. His hands flex on my hips, moving me against him, grinding my clit into
his pelvis. I suck in a sharp inhale at the sensation, and Mateo’s eyes flash with heat.
“Ride my dick, just like that,” he growls, one hand sliding up my stomach until his fingers are
resting on around my throat.
I whimper, rolling my hips, each movement sending sparks along my skin. Mateo’s grip on my
neck tightens, and I gasp, the pressure enough to make my head spin. He shifts his hips, pitching me
forward until my chest collides with his. The hand not around my throat grips my ass hard, holding me
still as he pounds into me over and over, driving the air from my lung.
“You feel incredible, so fucking tight for me,” Mateo grunts, punctuating his words with hard
thrusts.
I can’t think around the waves of heat coursing through my veins, every brush of his cock
inside of me bringing me closer to the edge. I can hardly get any sound out around Mateo’s hold on my
throat, my cries cut off to feeble whimpers. With a sudden lurch, Mateo hitches a leg up, snarling as
he flips me onto my back. His hand never leaves my neck, the tips of his fingers digging hard into my
flesh. His free hand finds my calf, lifting it until it rests along the hard plane of his chest. Leaning
forward, the stretch and new angle hits me deeper than before, and I try to breathe as I feel myself
teetering on the edge.
“You’re right there, aren’t you? So close to coming all over my cock,” he pants, hips never
slowing.
I try to nod, but Mateo’s hand holds me still. The room is getting fuzzy at the edges, and I can
hear my heartbeat in my ears.
“Please,” I squeak, hands coming up to grip his wrist, nails digging.
Mateo moans, hips moving to a slow roll, each thrust perfectly aimed to hit me exactly right.
Tears leak from my eyes, my chest heaving as I try to draw in air. He leans down until his nose is
almost touching mine. His eyes are glassy with feral delight, mouth pulled into a wicked grin.
“Let go for me, baby. Give it to me,” Mateo whispers, releasing his grip on my throat at last.
As I suck in a full breath, pleasure crashes down over me, ripping a scream from my chest. Mateo
whispers praise as he continues his slow movements, working me through the most intense orgasm
I’ve ever had. My eyes stay locked with the soft brown ones above, even as my vision blurs with
unshed tears. It goes on for an eternity, and my fingers and toes go numb, my skin beading with sweat.
Just as I feel myself passing out, Mateo lets my leg fall to the side, hips going still, and his lips press
softly against mine. His fingers thread into my hair, holding me tenderly as he worships my mouth
with his. I’m breathless for an entirely different reason by the time he pulls away and rests his
forehead against mine.
“You are so beautiful when you come, baby. So fucking beautiful,” Mateo breathes, voice heavy
with emotion.
My heart swells, and I bring my arms up to wrap around his shoulders, burying my face in his
neck. He slides his hands under my back, holding me just as tight. I shiver at the brush of his lips
against my throat, smiling as he peppers little kisses to each place his fingers pressed into the delicate
flesh. His scent tastes sharp and sweet, sugar and lightning making me flush again. I can still feel him,
hard and throbbing inside of me as the last ripples of my climax fade.
“Lydia, I know we just met, but… I want to knot you. Please,” Mateo says into my skin, arms
gripping me tighter.
I gasp softly at the intense longing in his voice, the desperation of his plea making my heart grow
warm, and my fingers dig into his back. That he’s asking rather than demanding sends my stomach on
a roller coaster ride of happiness. I smile a little wider, nodding into his neck. Mateo lets out a long
exhale, and I feel his smile against my shoulder.
“Thank fuck,” he breathes.
I chuckle, letting him lean back. I frown as he pulls his cock from my dripping slit, but my
confusion fades as his hands grip my hips, manhandling me onto my stomach. His touch sends jolts
along my skin, and the strength of his arms as he pulls me onto my knees makes me shiver. I groan as
he slides into my entrance, bottoming out in one smooth roll of his hips. My hands struggle to find
purchase as he sets a hard pace, dragging me along the length of his cock. I’m sensitive, and the curve
of him hits all the right places to have me hurtling toward another release.
“Harder, Mat, please,” I beg, trying to push back the best I can.
Mateo growls, one hand leaving my hip to clamp on my shoulder. The better leverage allows
him to pound into me, moving faster and deeper than ever. My body shakes, and I can feel the swell of
his knot growing with each meeting of our hips. It brushes against my inner nerves, making me buck
and arch. Mateo holds me firm, hips losing their steady rhythm as he approaches his peak.
“Fuck, yes, Mateo. More. I need you,” I groan, words falling from my lips before I can stop
them.
“Say my name again. Scream it for me,” he snarls, his hips pounding mine with brutal thrusts.
“Fuck, Mateo!”
My climax hits me like a freight train out of nowhere, barreling into me and making me see
stars. Mateo roars as my body clenches and drips for him, and he thrusts once, twice, and then I feel
his knot slide into place just behind my pelvic bone, swelling to lock him inside. I can feel him pulse
inside of me, my body drawing out his peak even as mine continues to roll in waves of liquid warmth
through my body. My arms shake, trying to hold me up. I feel boneless as Mateo pulls my torso back,
wrapping his arms around my stomach and shoulders to cradle me against his sweat-slick skin. He
rocks back to sit on his heels, pulling me with him and setting off another wave of pleasure through
my already wrecked body.
We sit there for a long moment, catching our breaths. I lean my head against his bicep, closing
my eyes as I drift in the afterglow. I rest my hands on the arm around my waist, and he squeezes me
tight. I feel so warm, safe, and treasured in his arms. At long last, he breathes a long exhale, kissing
my shoulder.
“Move with me, baby,” Mateo whispers, tightening his arms around me.
I nod, letting him guide us down on our sides. I pillow my head on his arm, and our legs tangle
together as he cradles me against his chest. He still feels hard inside of me, and the shifting makes me
gasp with aftershocks. I relax against him, closing my eyes and breathing in his sugar and storm scent.
His hand makes gentle circles against my stomach, the motion soothing. We lay in silence for a long
while, the intimacy of our position more intense than anything we’d just done.
“I’m hoping those bites are from failed bonding attempts, and there’s isn’t going to be anyone
hunting me down for this,” Mateo chuckles against my skin.
“Isn’t it a little late to be asking that?” I ask, my laugh turning into a moan as it shifts him
inside of me.
“In my defense, you are very distracting,” he replies with mock seriousness.
It only makes me laugh more, and the movement makes his knot press against me, an orgasm
flooding my veins with warmth. He groans as my walls flutter, pressing a long kiss to my shoulder.
When it passes, I let out a long, satisfied sigh.
“I wasn’t in heat, but he tried to force it and when that failed, he tried to force the bond
anyway,” I say, my voice distant.
“Is it wrong of me to say that I’m glad it didn’t work?” Mateo says sheepishly.
I turn my head back, looking at him in alarm. He kisses me softly, and I can’t help but melt a
little.
“I’m not glad you had to go through it, baby. I’d never think that. But I’m glad that the fucker
who tried to trap you failed. Bad things happen to good people, but it all adds up to make you who
you are today. And I really like you, Lydia,” he explains, and I can see the boyish smile lighting up his
entire face as he talks.
My face flushes hot, and I look away with a bashful smile. Mateo hums a little laugh,
snuggling close. I bask in the warmth of his arms, my heart full and mind at peace. We’re quiet for
another long moment, and his knot finally deflates enough for him to slip free. He kisses my shoulder
lightly before sliding out of bed. I hear a door open behind me, and I roll over, hissing as the
bathroom light blinds me for a moment. I open my eyes and watch Mateo running a washcloth under
water in his bathroom sink. With more light, I see the detail of his rib tattoo. A little warm patch in my
chest appears as I realize I was right. Mateo and Rhett have matching tattoos.
He crosses back to me, and I let him wipe me clean with the cloth. His touch is gentle, and I
sigh, suddenly tired and relaxed. His weight disappears for a moment before I feel the blankets below
me pull taught. I crawl under the soft sheets, letting Mateo pull me into his arms again.
“What does your tattoo mean?” I ask through a yawn.
“Gonna have to be a little more specific, baby,” Mateo replies with a soft laugh.
I poke him in the ribs, making him laugh harder. “That one. Rhett has it, too.”
“All of us, Rhett and Lexi and Luc and me, got it when we made our pack official. It’s Latin. It
means ‘Bonds stronger than blood.’”
 Twenty-One
Rhett

I pull into the front lot of Wickland House and frown as I find Mateo’s SUV parked in his reserved
spot. He rarely stays in the pack suite, but considering he went out with Lydia last night, and this is
closer to her apartment, he may have crashed here after they got home. Not that she owes me anything,
but she didn’t respond to my goodnight text so they must have been out late. I pull my suitcase from
my trunk, wheeling it behind me with one hand as I take my phone out with the other. It’s midmorning,
but Mateo should be awake, since he still has to work today.

Me: I’m at Wickland House and coming up to the suite. Make sure you’re wearing pants.
Mateo: You’re home early
Me: Found an earlier flight
Mateo: You sticking around for long?
Me: I was going to shower and eat something before heading over to Lydia’s. Why? Got
company?
Mateo: Something like that.

My brows pull down at that cryptic message. Mateo wasn’t one to kiss and tell on the best of
days, and I’d hope if he brought someone home, he’d at least had the courtesy of taking Lydia back to
her place first.
I scan my access badge at the private elevator and board it with a sigh, thoughts still on Lydia.
I’d texted her earlier to let her know I was going to be home early but haven’t heard anything back.
It’s her weekend off, so I’m hoping she’s just sleeping in. Maybe I could surprise her with a late
brunch in bed. By the time the door elevator opens into the suite common room, I’m looking at takeout
menus for places that still serve breakfast past 10 AM on my phone. I walk in without looking up but
stop in my tracks as I spot a woman’s shoe on the floor. The scent of lilacs and honey hits me a
moment later.
My head snaps up, and Mateo is leaning against the wall at the entrance of the hallway that
leads to his bedroom. The sound of a shower running fills the tense silence that stretches between us.
Mateo’s only dressed in a pair of gym shorts, with his hands tucked into the pockets. His posture is
relaxed, but it doesn’t escape my notice that he’s put himself between me and his bedroom door.
“Why is Lydia here?” I ask, surprised by how calm my voice is.
“She stayed the night with me,” Mateo replies neutrally.
“Stayed the night, or stayed the night?” I ask, hand tightening on the handle of my suitcase.
“So, what’s not going to happen here is you getting mad at her for any of this. Everything that
happened was consensual. You can get off your high horse with the possessive alpha bullshit, because
sleeping with Lydia isn’t a fucking competition,” Mateo snaps with a startling amount of heat.
His words make my brain stall out, all of my swirling thoughts halting in their tracks. I let out
a long breath, shaking my head. Of course, Mateo could see through me. He’s always been an expert
of cutting through to the heart of me, even if I really wish he wouldn’t at times. But he’d hit the nail on
the head. One mention of Lydia being with someone else, and the primal part of my mind went into a
tailspin. But I have no ground to stand on in this particular case. I can’t expect monogamy from Lydia
when I’m still actively involved with Lucas.
“I know,” I say at last, shoulders slumping, eyes drifting away toward the sound of the shower
behind him.
Mateo breathes out sharply through his nose. “She’s worried enough about you being jealous
—”
My head snaps to Mateo’s face, my brow pulled down in concern. “I’m not jealous. I’m really
not—”
Mateo’s deadpan stare cuts my protest short, and I chuckle.
“All right. I’m not jealous anymore. Lucas and I talked, and he’s on board and is considering
approaching her. Are you good with all that?” I say, dropping my voice so it doesn’t carry.
Mateo smirks and nods. “The more the merrier. You going to be good with her and me?
Because I’m… yeah, I’m in.”
I smile and nod. Mateo’s heart has a permanent residence on his tattooed sleeves, and I can
see how his soft brown eyes shine with affection, even if he doesn’t put the feelings to words just yet.
“Can’t say that I’d be thrilled to see her date outside the pack, but…” Mateo says after a
moment, trailing off.
I can’t stop the growl that fights its way out of my throat. Okay, so maybe I did have a little
more of the possessive alpha in me than I’d like. But I can trust my pack to do right by Lydia. Even the
thought of someone other than my beta or my best friend touching her is enough to make my skin
crawl. Mateo looks at me as my growl reaches him, and I have to swallow my chuckle at the gleam of
protective anger in his eyes. Glad to know I’m not alone in my feelings.
Mateo is about to say something else, but a shout from behind him draws both of our attention.
“Mateo, where the fuck are my underwear?”
I shake my head and blink at the profanity and tone of Lydia’s voice. Mateo looks at me like
the cat that got the cream as he pulls a scrap of purple lace from his pocket.
“Not a clue, baby. Have you checked under the bed?” he calls back, doing his best not to
laugh.
“I had them with the rest of my clothes when I got in the shower, and then they were gone
when I got out. What did you do with them, you fucking creep?” she retorts with more venom.
“Well, you know what they say. Finders, keepers.” Mateo trails off into a fit of laughter as he
shoves her panties back into his pocket.
“Give them back, Mat.” I sigh.
“I want to see if she’ll come out and make me,” Mateo says, still smirking.
I roll my eyes and rock back onto my heels, putting my phone in my pocket. “So, I take it you
had a good time?” I question flatly.
“Oh yeah. Lydia loved the show. Though…” Mateo trails off, glancing over his shoulder
toward the bedroom doors. He crosses to me and drops his voice. “I get what you meant, when you
said that she can get lost in her head.”
“What happened? Is she okay?” I ask quickly, straightening and looking toward the hall.
“I’m not sure what set her off exactly, but one minute we were dancing and then the next she’s
practically begging me to get her out of the club, and out of her head. I offered to take her home, but
she didn’t want to be alone, so I brought her here,” Mateo explains, his voice low.
I sigh heavily and nod. “Sorry about earlier. Just wasn’t expecting...”
 “Wasn’t expecting her to be here, with me. No worries, man. And just a head’s up, she’s down
to letting me watch, and letting me join y’all whenever you finally decide to stop being a gentleman,”
Mateo whispers, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
I step out from his grip, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. The image of Lydia between me
and Mateo, his hands roaming over her soft skin in tandem with my own, both of us working to drive
her to new heights of pleasure flashes through my head. I nearly stumble as I go lightheaded, knees
shaking as my cock comes to rapid attention. But the smirk on Mateo’s face has me second guessing
the truth of his words.
“What—”
“So, have you ordered breakfast yet, or am I going to have to fend for myself?”
Mateo and I both look over to see Lydia toweling her hair dry as she pads barefoot down the
hall toward us. She tosses her still damp hair back as she stands up straight and then freezes. My chest
swells, a smile blooming across my face automatically, my heart skipping a beat with one simple look
at her gorgeous face. Her one-shoulder top is a little wrinkled along with the skinny jeans, but her
face is bare of makeup, and she’s never looked more beautiful. I notice the tension in her shoulders,
the way her eyes widen slightly. There’s a shift in the room, a trace of burning sugar drifting toward
me. Mateo stiffens, but he’s letting me take the lead.
“Good morning, love. Have a good time last night?” I ask lightly, a smile pulling at my lips.
“Yeah. Um... I—this isn’t—I’m sorry,” Lydia mumbles, her gaze flicking between Mateo and
me.
“I’m going to shower, baby,” Mateo says softly, moving back toward his room.
Mateo stops for a moment, pressing a kiss to her damp hair before continuing back to his
room. Lydia’s flinch at the gesture doesn’t escape my notice, and it takes more effort than I’d care to
admit to swallow my growl. Once I hear Mateo’s door close, I leave my suitcase near the elevator
and close the distance between us. She stiffens as I pull her into a tight embrace, burying my face in
her hair. I can smell a bit of Mateo’s shampoo, but without her usual scent-blocking products, Lydia’s
lilac and lavender scent is front and center, making my mouth water.
“I missed you,” I whisper, holding her tight.
Finally, I feel her relax, and her arms coil around my chest in tight bands. She breathes deep,
face snuggling into my shirt. I smile into her hair, preening internally at her affection.
“You’re home early,” she says into my chest.
“I found an earlier flight. It was only business class instead of first, but I couldn’t stand to be
away from home any longer.” I laugh.
“Oh, no. What a travesty. Did you have to give up the masseuse, too?” she deadpans.
“These are the sacrifices I make for you,” I say with a fake sniffle.
Lydia laughs and snuggles closer to my chest. I close my eyes, just enjoying her closeness. I
want to say more to reassure her, and I open my mouth to begin, but I’m interrupted as I feel a
vibration against my thigh. We pull apart as Lydia pulls her cell phone from her pocket with an
annoyed huff, but it shifts to a confused frown as she looks at the caller ID.
“It’s Wila. She wouldn’t be calling me on my day off unless it’s important,” she mumbles,
finger hovering over the answer button.
“Take it. I’ll put in an order for breakfast. Want anything specific?” I say, rubbing her upper
arms a little.
“Pancakes and scrambled eggs?” she asks hopefully, looking up at me.
“Say no more,” I reply, leaning down to give her the briefest peck.
 She’s blushing the most adorable shade of pink as she moves off to the sitting area, bringing
her phone to her ear to answer the call. I move over to the kitchen island, pulling my phone out to put
in the room service order. Mateo rejoins us a moment later, dressed in slacks, button down, and a
sports jacket. He leans over the back of the couch Lydia’s sitting on to kiss her cheek before moving
toward the elevator. The exchange makes something in my chest grow warm, especially when she
smiles up at him.
Mateo and I have never really dated the same person before. It’s hard enough to find someone
who’s willing to enter into a relationship with someone like me, who already has a committed
relationship, let alone someone who catches Mateo’s attention and keeps it. We’ve always looked for
different things in our partners. Mateo needs adventure, something to chase. He goes off on his own a
lot, finding hidden gems wherever he goes, and needs someone who’s willing to go on that ride with
him. I need stability, someone who I can dote on without them feeling smothered. But Lydia has
surprised me yet again, and it makes my heart swell with affection for both her and my best friend.
She really is someone special.
“New client meeting. They’re giving me a tour of their pre-Civil War era house they want to
have restored before selling,” Mateo explains, cutting through my musings, buttoning his jacket while
waiting for the elevator to open.
“Send me pictures and any info that’ll help my team,” I say with an excited smile.
Mateo nods as the elevator chimes. He looks back at Lydia once before giving me a
suggestive quirk of his eyebrows and leaving. I roll my eyes, dialing the kitchen and placing a
breakfast order for Lydia and me.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Lydia groans, flopping back on the couch.
My gaze snaps to her, shoulders tensing at the distress in her voice.
“Sorry, Gran. I just can’t believe—Yeah, go ahead and open it. I won’t be back in before
Monday.” There’s a long pause as Lydia listens, her face draining of color with every passing
moment. “Great. Just great… No, don’t toss it yet. I have to think…. Again, I’m really sorry, Gran….
Of course I do. I told her not to…. Okay…. Will do…. I won’t…. Okay. I’ll let you go. Thanks for
letting me know.”
Lydia ends the call, her hand flopping onto the cushion next to her as she closes her eyes and
lets out a long, heavy breath.
“Everything okay?” I ask hesitantly.
“Is it too early to drink?” she asks back in a monotone.
“Mimosas exist for a reason,” I say with a shrug.
Lydia chuckles dryly, scrubbing her face. “When is food going to be here?”
“About thirty minutes. What’s going on, love?”
Lydia looks over at me, and the defeated look in her eyes takes me aback. “It’s a long story,
and it isn’t pretty.”
“I’ve got time,” I say, walking around the island toward her.
She looks at me for a long minute, then rolls her head to rest it on the back of the couch and
stares at the ceiling. I cross to sit in an armchair next to her, resting one ankle over my knee. I let her
sit in silence, even as every second that goes by twists my gut into knots. Her emerald eyes are dark
and distant, and I can count the time she takes to inhale and exhale. Five seconds in through the nose,
seven seconds out through the mouth.
“If you want to get rid of any airplane funk, go for it. I’ll wait for the food,” she whispers, the
sound making me jump.
 “Will you tell me where you went just now if I do?” I ask with deliberate gentleness.
She closes her eyes and takes a few more measured breaths. I want to push, but the calm feels
too delicate right now. She turns her head heavily, opening her eyes to look at me again. I see the
silver lining her eyes and tense. But she blinks and it disappears.
“I’d like to eat first, too. And have those mimosas on standby,” she says with a little smile.
“Okay. But if you’re not comfortable—”
“I’m never going to be comfortable with this conversation. But you deserve to know. I trust
you.”
The bite in her voice leaves no room for argument. I stand and move to lean over her, my
hands against the back of the couch on either side of her head. She looks up at me, and there’s a pain
in her eyes that makes my heart twist. I lower my lips to hers, relaxing a little as she returns the kiss
without hesitation. I give her a reassuring smile as I stand straight, gathering my suitcase and heading
down the hall to my room, texting the kitchen to tell them to add a couple of bottles of champagne and
orange juice to the order.
 Twenty-Two
Lydia

I sigh as I watch Rhett walk away down a hallway opposite of Mateo’s before turning to look out of
the balcony doors. I hadn’t really been able to take in the details last night, but in the light of day, it
was hard not to be blown away. The common area is an open plan living room, dining room, and
kitchen with sliding doors out onto a wide balcony opposite the elevator door. Two hallways extend
in either direction, where I assume the bedrooms are located. Mateo’s room had a spectacular en
suite bathroom, with a separate clawfoot tub and a tiled shower big enough for six people. They
decorated the entire suite in creams and red with gold accents, keeping with the art deco style of the
entire hotel.
As I hear the shower turn on from Rhett’s room, I pull out my phone. I had a few missed calls
from Rhett, as well as his texts letting me know he was on his way home. My phone had been in my
pocket all night, and I’d all but forgotten about it. I pull up my contacts and find the number I’m
looking for.

Me: Hey, Sam. It’s Lydia. I just got your invitation. Congrats! Sorry if Mom pressured you
into sending me one.

I send the message and jump when I receive a quick reply.

Sam: Thanks. Mom didn’t pressure me to do it. I want you there. Or have you forgotten that
we’re still siblings?
Me: How could I possibly forget that lol
Sam: You gonna be there? Or are you going to blow us off again?

I sigh, rolling my eyes. It was always like this with Sam. Every conversation was a duel,
something to win. He always knew exactly how to get a rise out of me when we were kids, and it
seems that he hasn’t lost a step over the last four years.

Me: I’m going to try. Have to see about my work schedule and stuff. I’ll send my RSVP
when I’m sure.
Sam: Darren’ll be happy to see you again.

My blood runs cold at the mention of that name, my fingers freezing over the screen as I fight
to breathe normally. My fingers shake a little as I slowly type out my reply.

Me: He’s going to be there?

Sam: Yeah. He’s one of my groomsmen.

My stomach drops out of my chest, and I feel the hollow space in my gut where it’d been fill
with ice cold panic. I close my eyes and count my inhales and exhales, trying to keep my cool.

Sam: That going to be a problem?

Me: As long as he doesn’t come near me, then no, it won’t be.
Sam: Really, Lyd? It’s been four years. He messed up and he knows it. Why do you have to
keep holding onto that shit?

I feel my skin flush as anger floods my system, replacing the icy panic with flaming rage. I
narrow my eyes at my phone, my nails tapping rapidly as I type.

Me: You know why. I’ll let you know if I’ll be there. Have a good one.

I throw my phone on the cushion beside me, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. The panic
and anger in my gut mix until I feel like I’m going to be sick from it. I focus on the traces of scent that I
can pick up from the air around me, Rhett’s whiskey, Mateo’s lemonade, and something spicy and
citrusy I don’t recognize. The combination settles my churning gut until I finally feel more in my body
and not in my head.
My brother, Sam, had been dating Allison Goodreaux since I’d been in high school, so it
shouldn’t have been a surprise to find out they’re finally tying the knot. I’d always felt like Ally was
way too good for my brother, and secretly held out hope that she’d come to the same conclusion and
leave his arrogant ass, but it seems that was in vain. Ally is a beta, a kindergarten teacher with more
patience in her left pinky toe than I have in my entire body. We’d been friendly enough while I still
lived with my parents, and I might have gone so far as to call her a friend.
It should excite me to hear that my brother is finally deciding to settle down, but all I can feel
is churning anxiety. I’d dodged too many life events since moving to Georgia, and I doubt that my
parents would take kindly to me missing the wedding of my eldest brother. But knowing that Darren
will be there still makes me pause and consider if the fallout would be worth it. My father may finally
try to enforce rank on me, now that my mother has confirmed my general location. Or worse. They’d
send someone to find me, and it wouldn’t be a huge stretch to imagine who the first person to
volunteer would be.
The elevator bell pulls me from my thoughts for a moment, and I glance over as the doors
open. An older woman pushes a cart over to the kitchen island, unloading the contents onto the
counter. I smirk as I see the pair of champagne bottles in their ice buckets, as well as the glass carafes
of juice that are set out next to the domed plates. The woman hums to herself as she works, not even
glancing in my direction. With a sigh of satisfaction, she smooths the fabric napkins before pushing the
cart back into the elevator and heading out.
“Yvette says that the service staff of any upstanding hotel should be as unobtrusive as
possible, especially when inside of the guest rooms. I’ve tried to tell her that isn’t really necessary,
but she’s been in the hospitality industry longer than I’ve been alive.”
The sound of Rhett’s voice makes me jump out of my skin, my head whipping around to see
him standing in the mouth of his hallway. He’s changed out of the slacks and button down and into
jeans and a zip-up jacket over a T-shirt. His hair is still damp, brushed off to one side, head tilted
slightly and a gentle smile pulling at his lips. He nods toward the food, and I follow him over to the
island. He pulls two champagne flutes from inside of a cabinet and pours our drinks as I sit down on
one of the island stools and remove the lids.
 I moan a little at the smell of delicious breakfast carbs as it wafts up to me in the steam. Rhett
sits next to me and pulls a plate of waffles, eggs, and sausage toward him. My pancakes are heavenly,
topped with whipped butter and real maple syrup. We eat in silence for a while, just enjoying the
food.
“Mateo said that you were worried about us,” Rhett says into the quiet, making me jump.
I shrug, unable to help the coil of tension in my gut. “I’m just—this is all new to me, and I
don’t want to step on any toes.”
“Lydia, you’re handling this all remarkably well for never being in a poly relationship
before,” Rhett says soothingly.
I blush a little, pushing a bit of egg around my plate to avoid looking at him.
“If you’ve got questions, please ask them,” Rhett prompts when I don’t respond.
I let out a long sigh, trying to relax. I take a drink from my mimosa, hoping a little liquid
courage can make this less awkward.
“Are you and Mateo…” I trail off, my face heating even more.
“Together? Not in that way. I love him to death, and I’d be lying if I said that we haven’t
experimented on a few occasions just out of curiosity, but since we’re both tops, it didn’t last,” Rhett
explains patiently.
I snap my wide-eyed gaze to him, face heating for an entirely different reason. The image of
Rhett and Mateo together, hands touching bare chests and mouths battling for dominance, flashes
through my mind and I have to fight to push it aside. Rhett’s nostrils flare, and a smirk pulls at one
corner of his mouth.
“Wicked girl, you are. And here I thought Mateo was just being a tease,” Rhett purrs, making
my lower belly flutter.
I clear my throat, looking away again. “And what about Lucas?”
“At first it was just him and I, but he’s developed a relationship with Lex as well. We’re
committed to each other, and he means the world to me,” Rhett says warmly.
I nod, considering everything he’s said. They seem to have their dynamics in balance, and a
little voice in the back of my head is green with envy. They have a support system within their pack,
and it’s clear that they care deeply about each other just from the way they talk about the other
members.
“I meant what I said on our first date, Lydia. I’m drawn to you in a way that I haven’t
experienced before, and I want to make this work. But I understand if this is a lifestyle that doesn’t
appeal to you,” Rhett says, and the emotion in his voice draws my eyes to his face.
His icy eyes swim with concern, his scent shifting toward leather and old books as I look at
his earnest expression. I wait for my gut to respond, to warn me away from this. Alphas can’t be this
generous; it’s not in their nature to share an omega. But no warning bells go off in my head. Rhett’s
honesty, combined with his relaxed and understanding reaction to finding me coming out of Mateo’s
room earlier, settles something into place in my chest. But Rhett deserves to know what sort of
baggage I’m bringing with me before we take the leap.
“I do want to try. But there’s a story I need to tell you first,” I start.
Rhett nods, his eyes trained on my face as his expression slips into a serious frown. I look
away, trying to gather my thoughts and figure out how to word this.
“The phone call from Wila was about a piece of mail that got sent to the shop for me. I usually
don’t get personal mail there, so she wanted to call me to get permission to open it,” I say, tracing
patterns on the marble counter with my finger.
 “What was it?” Rhett asks after a moment.
“An invitation. To my brother’s wedding.” I stare at the counter, picking at a chip in the stone.
“Why would that be sent to Wila’s and not to your apartment?” Rhett prompts, tone neutral.
“My mother’s father passed away recently, and I sent flowers to the funeral. A business card
made it into the package, along with my condolence note. It’s the only address they have for me. Jason
is the only person in my immediate family that knows where I live.”
“Why only him?”
“He’s the one who helped me when I needed to run. He set me up with a friend of his from
college while I was getting on my feet. Also, he’s my emergency contact if anything happens to me, so
I gave him my new address when I got my own place.”
Rhett is silent for a moment, and I let him absorb that information. I take steady breaths, trying
to keep my mind from spiraling. My skin feels cold, and I have to stop myself from wiping my sweaty
palms on the pristine marble. I twist my fingers, leaning heavily on my elbows as they rest on the
countertop, counting my breathing again. Rhett’s touch startles me a little as he takes one of my hands
in his, lacing our fingers together. The warmth of his skin, the squeeze of his grip, settles something in
me.
“What do you mean when you say that you ‘needed to run’?” he asks slowly, voice barely
above a whisper.
I press my lips together as I take a long breath in and out through my nose. I squeeze his hand
for a moment, my other pressing flat. “This is where things get long, complicated, and ugly,” I
whisper back.
“Okay.”
“It’s going to take me time to tell the whole thing, but I need you to stick with me through it
and let me get it all out from start to finish before you say anything. If this changes how you feel about
me after, I understand. But you should know the truth. I owe you that,” I say, babbling.
“Lydia.”
Rhett stands, the catch in his voice pulling my attention to his face. His eyes are bright, brow
lined with worry. He squeezes my hand again before pulling gently, leading me over to the couch. We
sit at opposite ends, Rhett turning toward me with his back to the balcony, one foot tucked under his
leg. I curl my knees to my chest, hugging them loosely. I open my mouth to start, but Rhett jumps up
and rushes back to the island. He comes back with the two ice buckets and the champagne glasses.
“Just in case,” he says, setting them on the coffee table before settling back in his seat.
I take a deep breath to steady myself, but Rhett holds up a hand.
“I just want you to know, before you start, that no matter what you’re about to tell me, I’m not
going anywhere,” he says sternly.
I nod, and he settles back, falling silent while I try to figure out how to explain my life story.
 Twenty-Three
Lydia

“Have you ever heard the old saying about the best way to boil a frog?”
I stare at the couch cushion between us as I ask the question, deliberately not looking at Rhett.
“I can’t say that I have. What is it?” Rhett asks back, confusion heavy in his reply.
“They say that if you want to boil a frog while it’s still alive, you have to do it slowly. If you
turn the heat too high, too fast, the frog will jump out. But if you turn the heat up in tiny increments
over time, the frog gets used to each change in the temperature and doesn’t realize that it’s being
boiled alive until it’s too late,” I explain.
“Okay,” Rhett says slowly.
I chuckle once darkly. “I met a guy in college. His name was Darren McLaughlin, and he
was… everything my parents taught me I should look for in an alpha. He was polite, attentive,
generous, good family, all that jazz. When he met my family, they were enamored with him, treated
him like one of their own. Jason wasn’t as impressed; told me he was too good to be true. Should
have fucking listened.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Rhett murmurs.
I look up at him, and his brow is pulled down low, turquoise gaze locked on my face, taking in
my every breath and twitch. I swallow hard against a sudden lump and let out a long sigh.
“Darren did everything right when I first met him. He spoiled me, loved taking me out,
showing me off to his friends, calling me his girlfriend, his petal.” I shudder at the nickname. “But as
time went on, he just got weird. I thought nothing of it at first. When he constantly wanted to know
where I was, it was because he was worried about my safety. When he passed comments about how
he didn’t like the way this friend treated me, or how a classmate was just being nice to me so he
could take advantage of me, I believed him. He was looking out for me. What did it matter that I lost
contact with all of them, and only really hung out with him and his friends?”
“He was turning up the heat.” Rhett sighs, catching on.
I nod. “By the time he wanted me to move in with him, I didn’t hesitate. It made total sense.
We spent all of our time together and living together would just make that easier. But after we signed
the lease, it got bad. He didn’t want me to work, saying it was his job as my alpha to provide for us.
He insisted that all the bills be in my name, to build my credit of course, but he made paying them
difficult because he didn’t want me to have direct access to his bank account.”
“Did he at least do what he said he would and provide?” Rhett questions, a little bite to his
voice.
I let out a bark of mirthless laughter. “He made money, and then spent it before he
‘remembered’ that we needed it to keep the lights on and food on the table. So, I did what I had to. I
got a part-time job behind his back. He seemed to buy my excuses for a while, probably because I
stopped bugging him for money all the time. But when he found out, it was the first time I saw the real
Darren.”

“I’m not even mad that you got a job, Lydia. I’m mostly just mad that you thought it was
okay to lie about it,” Darren shouts with an exasperated snarl.
“I had to do something! You never give me enough money to take care of the house, so it
was get a job or starve,” I throw back, running my hands through my hair.
“You should have asked for more,” Darren says.
“I fucking have, Darren! Repeatedly! But you always say that it’s your money and I can’t
tell you what to do with your money.”
“This isn’t even the fucking point. If you wanted to get a job, you should have said
something.”
“You told me I can’t, because omegas like me should just let their alphas take care of
them.”
“Are you saying that I’m not a good alpha?”
“If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, something hits the wall next to my head, and a
slice of pain shoots across my forehead. Looking down, I find the remains of a lamp on the floor,
and something warm slides down my face. I touch my forehead with a shaky hand, and it comes
away wet with blood. Stunned and dazed, I notice too late that Darren is charging at me. I scream
as a hand wraps around my throat and slams me into the wall. My head spins as it bounces off the
plaster and I feel something give behind my back.
“You are going to watch your fucking tone with me, you omega bitch,” Darren snarls,
fingers digging hard into my neck.
I cough and sputter, his fingers cutting off my air even as his tobacco scent fills my senses.
I scratch at his hand, and my vision starts to go black. Before I pass out, he releases his grip and I
collapse to the floor, gasping for air.
“You’re going to go in tomorrow and quit. And you will never speak to me like that again.
Understood, omega?”
My back arches as the icy words of his bark crash over me. I fall onto my back, head tilting
painfully to expose my throat. My mind shuts down, giving in to the command.
“Yes, Alpha,” I croak.
“Clean up this mess and then come to bed. You owe me an apology.”

My head throbs with phantom pain, and I realize that I’m running my finger along the faint scar
that still sits over my eyebrow from that fight. The feeling of my sweat-damp brow makes my stomach
lurch, the feeling too close to blood for comfort. Rhett notices my subconscious action, his mouth
pressing into a thin line as I see his shoulders tense, even as I lower my hand down, wrapping my arm
around my knees again. I don’t dare tell him that scar is only the first one Darren ever gave me and
was far from the last.
“We’d fought before that, but it was the first time he put his hands on me. The first time he
used his bark on me. I tried to ask for help, but no one understood why I had a problem with his
reaction. My mom told me I shouldn’t have provoked him. Jason was more interested in saying ‘I told
you so’ than actually helping me. All the friends I had before were gone, thanks to Darren. I tried to
jump out of the pot, but no one was there to catch me.”
I stare at the couch again, nails digging into my legs through my jeans. Rhett stays silent, but I
can see his leg bouncing out of the corner of my eye. I smile a little at the restraint he’s showing, even
if his scent is strong with old paper and ink, and a slightly smokey hint of burning newspaper.
“After that, when he realized he had me where he wanted me, it somehow got even worse. He
was mean. The name calling was constant and cut me down to my core. Nothing I did was right, even
when I was following his directions to the letter. He knew I have a weird gag reflex with other
people’s saliva, but he’d spit everywhere just because he wanted to get a reaction from me. He
wouldn’t hit me in the face, because he never wanted to leave visible marks, but he enjoyed seeing
me in pain, I think.”
“Did you… did he ever—”
I nod and flinch at the savage snarl that comes before he can check it. Rhett takes several deep
breaths, trying to get himself under control again.
“He would always make me feel incredibly guilty anytime I didn’t want to sleep with him. I
would give in, just to avoid the days of emotional hell that would come after a refusal. But I know
that’s not really consent,” I mutter, hugging my legs a little tighter.
“No, it isn’t,” Rhett growls.
Somehow, I knew this would be the most difficult part to explain, how I let Darren touch me
when I didn’t really want it, but just wanted to avoid the fighting. Rhett values consent more than
anyone I’ve ever met, and it feels like I’m disappointing him by admitting that I haven’t always done
the same. Even if I know the anger flashing in his eyes isn’t directed at me, a small part of my mind
still flinches back from him, waiting for him to lash out. I clear my throat and keep going, trying to
push that fear down and away.
“I told you about the incident with my heat in the hotel. But I didn’t tell you how messed up I
was afterwards. I was so out of it, between my heat making my hormones crazy, and whatever
pheromones he was pushing out, but I knew I didn’t want him as my bond mate. He was fully locked
in when he tried to bite me, and I only remember being so scared that the pain didn’t matter. I just had
to get away.”
Rhett sucks in a breath that draws my eyes up to him. He’s staring at me with wide eyes, silver
lining the edges. His hands are clenched hard, one in his lap and the other on the back of the couch,
and I can see the slight tremor in his forearms. My eyes burn, both at the memory of that night, and the
intensity of Rhett’s gaze. The mixture of fury and worry in his eyes unsettles me, and I have to blink
back tears. An alpha’s knot is an evolutionary remnant of a time when ensuring pregnancy after each
coupling was vital, while also producing a flood of bonding chemicals, which is how mate bonds can
be formed. It isn’t supposed to come out early, and doing so causes serious damage. But adrenaline
and fear can do wonders, and they helped me get away that night, despite the pain. I can see the
implications of my admission hit him, each realization of what happened that night making his face
fall until all that’s left is a mixture of pity and awe.
“How did you…” he gasps.
“Survive? I don’t know how I found the strength to do it, but I made it to the front desk. The
night manager didn’t ask questions, didn’t even hesitate before driving me to the hospital. I owe that
woman my life, but I never learned her name,” I deadpan, my voice steadier than I thought it would
be.
“But you said that you didn’t want him. He tried to force the bond on you. You didn’t—”
“I did,” I say with a shaky, wet laugh. “Darren found me in the hospital a day later and was the
picture of contrition. I was still out of it from my heat, and I believed every word he said. He
promised he would be better. That this would never happen again. And I fucking believed him. I had
so many nurses ask me if I was okay, if I was safe. It’s not illegal in Louisiana to force an omega to
take a knot if they’re in heat, but I was told that my bloodwork showed I had still been lucid enough
for charges to be filed. But I didn’t leave. I went back.”
 I was crying now, guilt overwhelming me and cutting off my words. I bury my face in my
knees, gritting my teeth to keep from sobbing outright. Arms wrap around my shoulders, the scent of
dark chocolate and whiskey slides over me, warm and soothing. I let Rhett pull me across the couch,
settling me into the space between his legs and against his chest. I close my eyes and let the tears fall
for a few more moments.
“I think the worst part, in retrospect, is how fucking relieved I was when the doctors told me
there would be no permanent damage. Omega bodies are built to give birth, so healing from this
would be relatively easy. A few weeks of bed rest, and I’d be well enough for penetrative sex, but I
still wouldn’t be able to take a knot again for a few months. As long as I didn’t push it, they said, by
my next heat cycle, I’d be right as rain.”
“That’s a really shitty thing for a doctor to say to someone who’d just been through that kind of
trauma,” Rhett growls lowly, arms tightening around me for a moment.
“You’re not wrong. But I was just so… grateful that I hadn’t made myself worthless,” I reply
heavily.
“Your worth is never, has never been, and never will be defined by your ability to take a knot,
Lydia.”
I pull away slightly to look up into his face. His eyes are hard chips of lapis under an angry
brow. Up close, I can see the flecks of cobalt and cerulean in the irises dancing like blue flames. His
mouth is set in a thin line, a muscle in his jaw twitching with the tension. I know he wants to say
more, but I don’t want to push him. I settle back into his chest, releasing my death grip on my legs
slightly. We sit in silence for a few more moments, and I feel the tension leave his shoulders when he
buries his nose into my still damp hair.
“When did the scars happen?” he whispers after a few moments.
“The Christmas of our senior year. We met up with my family, my pack I guess, at this big
lodge to have a massive holiday get together. On Christmas Eve, he got down on one knee during
dinner and, in front of God and everyone, proclaimed his undying love for me and asked me to be his
wife.”
Rhett snorts incredulously at that.
“I know. This wasn’t long after the hotel incident. I’d healed enough, but taking a knot still
made me really sore afterwards.”
“For fuck’s sake—”
“I know. Trust me, I know,” I cut in, placing a soothing hand on his chest.
He lets out an angry sigh, and I can practically hear his teeth grinding. I wait until he relaxes
before I continue.
“Like I was saying, this wasn’t long after that, and things were… okay. We still fought, but he
made it a point to walk away from the arguments before it escalated. He seemed like he was really
trying. But at no point did we ever talk about our future. We were both set to graduate at the end of
spring semester, but we never talked about what came next after that. I thought nothing of it at the time,
but I can look back now and realize that, to him, our future was a foregone conclusion, and therefore
didn’t need to be discussed.
“So, when he proposed, it absolutely blindsided me. I remember looking around the table, at
all the faces of these people with whom I share blood, but who were no better than strangers, and
seeing how hungry their eyes were. Our pack was big, but it wasn’t influential. Darren’s father is a
successful evangelical pastor with his own call-in TV program. To my hyper-Christian family, I’d
basically bagged a celebrity. They wanted the money and power that being connected with a person
like Pastor McLaughlin would bring.”
“I thought I recognized that name. He’s one of those faith healers, right?” Rhett asks.
I nod. “He claims to be a man of God, but he’s just a con artist. And his son learned every
trick in his book.”
“What happened when you rejected the proposal?”
I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment to brace myself. “I didn’t so much reject him as just run. I
left the lodge, and Jason found me a few miles away, hyperventilating in my car. After he got me to
calm down, I told him everything that Darren had done to me. He wanted me to take off right then and
there and never look back, but then my mom found us.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Rhett exhales.
“And all the saints, too. She was livid in a way I hadn’t seen before. She called me every
name in the book, and to top it all off, she told me that if I didn’t go back and beg for Darren’s
forgiveness, I’d be cut off. My tuition would stop being paid, my bank account would be closed, my
car would be repossessed. Anything they’d given me would be taken back.”
“Your mother is a real piece of fucking work,” Rhett grumbles.
“That’s not even the half of it,” I reply.
Rhett pulls me closer, and I stretch my legs out a little, letting them fall over his knee. He lets
me sit in silence for a long moment, and I gather my will.
“I found out later that she’d spoken with Darren before she found me and Jason. He wanted
me, and she wanted another alpha son. She knew what was going to happen but said nothing to warn
me. She let me go back, knowing what sort of mindset Darren was in, made me think it was the only
way. I thought I might be able to convince him to agree to a long engagement, maybe get us settled
somewhere after graduation and start our careers before the wedding. But he wasn’t interested in
talking.”
My voice fades out in a hoarse whisper, and I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. I twist my
hands in my lap, tucking my chin and closing my eyes. Rhett tenses, arms tightening around me. He
kisses the top of my head, and I let the dark chocolate scent of him calm me a little.
“When I got back to the lodge, he tried to use his bark to force my body into heat.”
Rhett’s snarl tears through the silence, and I feel my hands start to shake.
“He needed me to be in heat for the mating bond to actually fall into place. But it didn’t work.
Maybe I was too scared, or my body was rejecting the order as a defense mechanism because I
wasn’t fully healed, but whatever it was, I didn’t react to his bark or the pheromones. But he did it
anyway.”
My voice dies in a choking cough, tears returning. My shoulder throbs against the feel of
phantom teeth in my flesh, tearing me apart. Rhett’s fingers slide into my hair as he presses the side of
my face to his chest. His grip isn’t hard, and I let myself relax into the safety of his embrace. His
hands are large enough to cover half of my head, allowing his thumb to gently stroke my cheek,
catching my tears.
“The bond didn’t take,” Rhett whispers, more a statement than a question.
I shake my head. “Jason found me after we’d…. just after. He made the call; I was getting out,
consequences be damned. I left Louisiana on Christmas Day four years ago with only what was
already in my car and would fit in a backpack. I found a bank on my way through Alabama and cashed
out my savings before they could cut me off, but I lost the trust fund my paternal grandparents had left
me, and I had to drop out of college. Jason has friends from his community college days who live in
Everton, and one of them let me stay on her couch while I recovered from… everything. She
introduced me to Gabby, and the rest is history.”
Rhett is quiet for a long moment, fingers gently playing with my hair. I wipe my face as my
tears run dry, feeling a little calmer. Rhett doesn’t speak for a long time, the silence in the room only
interrupted occasionally by traffic noise from the street far below.
“McLaughlin does not know where you are, I take it.”
Rhett’s hoarse whisper makes me jump a little, but I shake my head. “I’ve abandoned social
media almost entirely, and I trust Jason with my life. That my family knows about Wila’s was a
complete accident.”
“But he’s going to be at the wedding?”
I nod. “Darren’s one of my brother’s groomsmen.”
“And not going isn’t an option?”
I shake my head. “Because of the stupid archaic omega laws, since I’m unbonded and my
father is an alpha, he could technically pull rank and force me back now that he knows where I am.
It’s not a bluff I’m willing to call.”
“Then I’m going with you.”
 Twenty-Four
Rhett

As I hold Lydia in my arms and listen to the story of her abuse, it is a minor miracle that I can stay
still. Every instinct I have is on high alert. Her tears fuel to my desire to rip that piece of shit who hurt
her limb from fucking limb. And her family, the one group of people who are supposed to love and
protect you above everyone else in the world, threw her away because she didn’t follow the party
line. Jason, the only one of them who did anything to help her, had my unending gratitude for getting
Lydia out before it was too late. The rest of them could burn in Hell for all I care. If she had to face
them again, over my dead body would she be doing it alone.
“Then I’m going with you.”
Lydia sits up, twisting to face me more fully. By her expression, she wasn’t expecting the heat
in my growl, but I couldn’t contain my wrath any further than that. I’d work out my aggression later
when I can substitute my punching bag for that sack of festering ooze, but for now, I try to take deep,
calming breaths.
“You don’t—”
“Oh, but I really do. Do you think I’m going to let you face him alone, after everything you just
told me?” I ask incredulously.
“Let me?” Lydia throws back, shifting out of my hold and turning to face me fully.
I let out an irritated huff, running a rough hand through my hair. “I couldn’t, in good
conscience, sit back and do nothing when I know that you’re going to be facing the man,” I spit the
word contemptuously, loath to give that scum-sucking rapist even that much credit, “who put you
through a living nightmare. I promised I would do as much as I can to make up for how terribly your
family and your ex have treated you. And if that means standing at your side so you don’t get hurt
again, then it would be my fucking honor.”
Lydia gives me a long, searching look, and I sit as still as I can. Her face is stained with tear
tracks, and I want to close the distance and wipe them away. I want to do everything I possibly can,
so she never has to hurt like that again. I’d thought I knew what she might say, what sort of past
shaped her. But my worst nightmares didn’t come close to reality. It blows me away to think that
someone could go through all of that abuse and still come out as kind and gentle as Lydia is. She’s so
strong, to endure and not let her heart be hardened.
“I can handle myself. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again,” she says, voice dark and low.
“I never once thought you couldn’t,” I reply without hesitation. “But I wouldn’t be able to live
with myself if I stood by and did nothing while you walked into a nest of vipers.”
“I don’t want...my family isn’t great, and I’d rather not subject you to their brand of crazy,”
she admits, looking down at where she’s twisting her hands in her lap.
“Please let me accompany you. If something happened to you…” I trail off with a shudder, not
even letting my mind imagine what sort of mental and verbal abuse she could be subjected to.
Lydia sits for another long moment, and I let the silence stretch. I want to press, to continue to
tell her how much the thought of her in pain makes my heart twist in my chest. But she needs me to
back off more than I need to express those feelings. She’s one wrong move away from shutting down,
if the tension in her shoulders and the conflict in her eyes are anything to go by. After an eternity, she
finally nods.
“Okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she says with a resigned sigh.
“I’ll have you know I am an expert event attendee. You don’t get anywhere in the world of
philanthropy without having to rub elbows with some Grade-A, certified crazy rich people,” I say
with a laugh, trying to break the tension.
Lydia looks up at me as she returns my laugh with an adorable twinkling giggle of her own.
“Aren’t you also a crazy rich person?”
I shrug. “I’d say I’m only a B+, on a good day.”
Lydia throws her head back and laughs, and my heart finally untwists itself at the sight of her
happiness again. As her laughter dies, her eyes connect with mine, and I sit straighter from the heat
blazing in their emerald depths. I go still as she moves, hands going to her hips as she straddles my
lap. The first brush of her fingers in my beard has my cock waking up, and my eyes slide closed when
she runs her nails through the coarse hair, a purr rumbling in my chest.
“I want you, Rhett,” she whispers, her fingers moving to run through my hair.
I open my eyes, hands digging into her soft thighs with almost bruising pressure. Her little
moan makes my cock twitch. But my desire cools slightly as I see the tear tracks still on her face.
“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice a little breathless as her hands slide along my scalp.
She pulls back, her eyes clouded with confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asks, words
clipped.
I bite my lower lip as I consider how I want to approach this. We’ve been dancing around
each other for weeks, and I want our first time to be perfect, for her to be ready for what I’m going to
ask for. Her scent is heavy with petrichor and vanilla, and the heat in her eyes burns hot enough to
melt steel. But I don’t want to rush things because she’s emotionally vulnerable.
“You just finished telling me about your abuser, and I’m not sure if you want this because you
are ready, or if you’re just trying to forget your past,” I say, settling on honesty.
Lydia blinks at me, clearly not expecting that answer. I expect her to fire back, but she just sits
up and moves back to the other side of the couch, turning to face the TV as she curls up against the
arm. Her gaze is distant, looking but seeing nothing.
“If you don’t want to sleep with me, I’d prefer you just say so rather than stringing me along,”
she drones, not looking at me.
It’s my turn to blink, shaking my head a little at her cold, detached tone. The honey is fading
from her scent, leaving only the muted florals behind. There’s a kick of panic in my chest, but I push it
down so I can focus.
“What could possibly make you think—”
“Oh, I don’t know. We’ve been dating for almost two months, and the only time you’ve done
more than kiss me is when I was in heat, and you wouldn’t let me touch you back. So, forgive me for
thinking that my feelings are one sided.”
“Lydia, that’s not—”
“Then explain. Why do you keep pushing me away? Because that’s what this feels like. I’m
trying to be okay with this, but I need to know if sex is going to be part of our relationship. If it’s not,
then whatever, but I at least deserve to know why.”
I stare in open-mouthed shock, her words washing over me in waves. Has she been assuming
I’ve been rejecting her this whole time? How could I have gone so wrong?
“I want you, too, Lydia—”
 “Could have fooled me,” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and still refusing to
look at me.
I growl low in my throat. “If you keep interrupting me, I’m going to have to take steps to
otherwise occupy your mouth,” I snap before I can check myself.
That gets her attention, and I watch the blush spread from her nose out over her forehead until
she’s bright pink, eyes wide and bright. At least she’s quiet. I sigh, running my hand through my hair
roughly as I try to find the words.
“What I like, what I need, in the bedroom isn’t exactly the norm. And I could tell that there
was something you weren’t telling me, some trauma in your past that makes you deflect whenever I try
to get close. You flinch at loud noises, and whenever someone moves too fast. I needed to know what
happened to you so I could behave accordingly. Because, unlike your shit stain of an ex, I don’t want
to traumatize you.”
Lydia stares with something like awe in her eyes. I’ve noticed all the little things that she
thinks she hides, but I wanted her to come to me. And it worked. She opened up, sharing those
invisible scars that match the ones on her skin, and so much of her behavior makes sense now. And
knowing what I do now, our dynamic can be that much safer.
“What exactly are you into that makes you worried that I’m going to freak out?” Lydia asks
after a long moment.
I smirk, but it’s a humorless expression. “Control. I want to be in complete control when
we’re together. Your body will be mine to use as I see fit. Your pleasure will belong to me, and I can
give it or take it however I want. And if you behave, you will never be left wanting.”
Lydia sits up a little straighter, face falling into that expression again. The one where I can see
the wheels turning behind her emerald eyes, but the way she bites her lower lip in hesitation confirms
my suspicions. She’s still in her head, fighting with the natural submissive that I know is buried inside
of her.
“I… okay, yeah. That’s—” she cuts herself off, clearing her throat and rubbing the back of her
neck.
“There’s more to this than what I want, love. Do you want to have this talk now, or do you
want to wait until another day?” I ask evenly, trying to control my racing heart.
She goes quiet as she considers, and I see her take several of those carefully measured
breaths. It does make me less worried to see her considering rather than just answering on instinct. At
a long moment, I see her setting her shoulders and nodding to herself. She looks back at me, her eyes
full of determination.
“I’m done trying to pretend I don’t want you,” Lydia says, firm and confident.
I smile, my heart doing little flips in my chest. “Then let’s go somewhere a little more
comfortable,” I suggest, nodding in the direction of my room.
Lydia blushes a light pink before standing and turning to wait for me to lead. I unfold from the
couch, stepping to her side. I reach up and tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, cupping her
face and tilting it up. Lydia leans a little into my touch, and my heart melts at the sight of her bright
green stare looking up at me. I lean down and brush a soft kiss against her lips but pull away before
she makes me forget myself. It should bother me how easily she does that without even trying, but I
only feel a buzzing excitement under my skin.
I stroke her cheek with my thumb once before dropping my hand and taking her hand. She
allows me to lead her down the hall and into my room. She pauses just inside the doorway as I turn to
shut the door, and I watch her take in the space. The cool neutral color scheme instantly makes me feel
more relaxed, and I let myself enjoy the way my feet sink into the thick white carpet.
“I expected more black and leather,” she chuckles.
“We keep that decor in the playroom. This is just my bedroom,” I say with a smirk, moving
over to the pair of armchairs that sit off to the side of the room.
Lydia’s head snaps to me, and I have to stifle a laugh at how red her face is. Another day I’d
show her all of the fun things Lex and I have in our little playroom next door, but I didn’t want to
overwhelm her right now. I settle into one of the chairs, motioning for Lydia to take the other. She
curls up like a cat, one leg tucked up under her hips, the other bent to her chest with an arm wrapped
around it. The position makes me smile; she rarely sits normally, always twisting her limbs around
her like a pretzel, or perching on spots that aren’t strictly meant for sitting. It’s just one of her
adorable little quirks that makes my heart sing.
“So,” she starts, letting out a long exhale.
“So,” I parrot, trying not to let my amusement show through.
She glares at me, but it lacks any heat. She starts conversations like this often, and I always
love getting a rise out of her when I just repeat her opener back. I rub a hand over my mouth, trying to
hide my smirk.
“Best place to start is with safe words. When we play, you’ll have these as lifelines, a way to
communicate to me that can’t be misunderstood,” I begin, relaxing back into my chair.
“Why can’t I just say ‘no’ or ‘stop’?” she asks, tone genuinely curious.
“Because ‘please don’t, stop’ between moans could sound like ‘please, don’t stop,’” I return
without missing a beat.
Lydia’s mouth rounds into a small ‘o’ and she nods slowly, blush darkening. I let the
implications linger in the air for a minute, and I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. I blink,
pulling back from their emerald depths.
“So, I use a traffic light system. If I ask you for a color, and you’re fine and on board with
what’s happening, you’ll say you’re ‘green.’ If we need to slow down, or take a breather, but we don’t
want the scene to end, we say ‘yellow.’ You can say that at any time, not just if I ask, for the record.
Same goes with ‘red.’”
“What’s red?” Lydia asks, voice a little breathless.
“Red is our word for a hard stop. Whatever is happening stops immediately, and we move to
aftercare. And then, after we’ve had a moment to collect ourselves, we talk about what happened and
what went wrong so we can do better the next time,” I explain, trying to keep my tone as patient as
possible.
“You keep saying ‘we.’ Why?” she asks, head tilting slightly as her brow pulls down in
confusion.
“Because these are my words, too, love. If I need to pull the plug on a scene, because I’m not
comfortable, or if I’m concerned for your physical or emotional well-being, then I want to be able to
communicate that to you in a way where you know you haven’t done something wrong or that you’ve
upset me,” I reply seriously, looking her in the face so she can see how much I mean the words.
Lydia blinks rapidly, mouth falling open as she digests my words. I shouldn’t be surprised
anymore, considering what she’s told me about her ex, but the fact that my concern and consideration
for her feelings looks to be a revelation makes my stomach twist with a spike of hot rage. She clears
her throat a little, looking away from me as she gathers herself. I wait, letting her take the lead for a
moment.
“What’s aftercare?” she asks after a moment of silence.
 I smile, a soft thing that matches the warmth in my heart. I love aftercare, and I’m hoping that
Lydia will, too.
“Emotions run high during scenes, and aftercare is a way for us to come back down gently. It’s
a little different for everyone. Like, for example, Lucas doesn’t need much after our play, maybe a
few reassuring touches and a little bit of praise. Maybe a little more if it’s a particularly intense
scene. For me, I want to take care of my partner. I want to soothe any marks or bruises, run a bath if
necessary, get food and water. Care tasks are my aftercare,” I say, picking my words with a little
difficulty.
Lydia looks back at me with wide eyes, the concern gone from her brow. “Is… is cuddling
aftercare?” she asks, voice small.
I nod eagerly. “It absolutely is, love.”
She smiles, and the expression makes my soul almost buoyant. “Then I’d like that. Dar—my
ex wouldn’t… he’d usually just get up and leave, especially after he’d knotted me.”
The way her voice drops and her smile fades as she talks about the shit her abuser put her
through makes me clench my jaw until I can feel my teeth grinding. He’s a dead man walking, even if
he doesn’t know it.
“I won’t leave you until you want me to, Lydia. I promise,” I say emphatically.
She nods, her smile only a slight twitch of the corners of her mouth.
“I told you I like control, but I want to know what sorts of things you like,” I continue,
redirecting to more pleasant things.
Lydia shrugs. “I’m not sure. My ex was a good ol’ Christian boy, so it was missionary or bust
most of the time, and even that was slathered in a heavy coating of ‘lust is a sin and fornication is for
reproduction.’ A lot of the stuff he did wasn’t stuff we talked about, like we’re doing, so I don’t know
if I would like it if I was given a choice.”
I take a deep breath to contain my growl. It would be a miracle if I didn’t deck this bastard on
sight.
“I think I know something you enjoy,” I say, dropping my voice deliberately.
Her eyes go as round and big as saucers, her breath catching. I see the little shiver as it passes
down her body. I love seeing how responsive she is to me.
“You seem to like it when I praise you, when I tell you you’re a good girl. Is that what you
want to be for me? My good, submissive girl?” I purr, laying it on a little thick just to see what she’d
do.
Her spine straightens, head ducking slightly before she catches herself. The instinct is there,
but she’s fighting it. And I want to get her to that space where she can just let go and float in the
sensations. I want her to be putty in my hands, and I’ve never been one to back down from a
challenge.
“I do… I do like it when you talk like that. I just…” Lydia trails off, eyes on the floor.
“Just what, sweet girl? This is the time to talk to me. I want to know what’s on your mind,” I
push, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees.
Lydia takes a deep breath and drags her eyes back to meet mine. I can see the conflict there,
and the way she bites her lower lip as she thinks has me fighting the urge to reach for her, to touch her,
to soothe her. But I wait, letting her work through it in her head.
“I trust you, but I don’t want to be completely helpless, I guess. I want to try, but I don’t want
you to be mad if I can’t… can’t do everything,” she says, starting strong but trailing off until her
words are barely above a whisper.
 Watching her shrink, retreating inside of her shell as she braces for my anger hurts more than I
care to admit. Not able to fight it any longer, I move to kneel on the floor in front of her, taking her
hands in mine. They’re cold, and I rub slightly to warm them. Her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t flinch
away from me.
“Your safety is my primary concern, inside the bedroom and out. I will keep you safe and do
everything I can to prevent issues before they can happen. But I never want you to feel that you can’t
tell me when something is upsetting you. Your safe words are there for a reason, love. I will never,
ever be mad with you for enforcing your limits and boundaries,” I declare, speaking with all of the
emotion I can feel swirling in my chest.
Lydia’s little gasp, the way her eyes shine with unshed tears has me wanting to hold her, but I
wait to see what she’ll do. To my genuine relief, she smiles and nods in understanding, squeezing my
hands slightly.
“Can I try now? Tell you what I don’t want?” she asks, almost whispering.
I nod. “Of course. Fire away.”
She settles her shoulders again, and I love the way she does that, like she’s readying for battle.
Little does she know that I never want to fight her.
“I don’t want you to call me mean names or spit on me. I wasn’t kidding when I said that I get
physically ill whenever I see someone else’s saliva. And no bites that break the skin,” she starts.
“Understood. Anything else?” I prompt.
She hesitates, but I tighten my grip on her hands in encouragement.
“I don’t want you to knot me without asking. Or unless I ask for it. If that’s okay,” she says, the
end of her sentence lifting in a question.
“Absolutely. Are you on birth control?” I ask, trying to keep her from shutting down.
She nods. “I have the implant, but I’d like us to use condoms as well.”
“Would you be opposed to going without at some point in the future?” I ask, deciding to push
my luck while she’s being so open.
Lydia chews on the inside of lower lips and tilts her head to the side for a moment. It means
the world that she’s not rejecting the idea outright but giving it consideration. After a moment, she
nods.
“I want us to get tested, just to be safe,” she says.
I nod. “Lucas is my only other partner. He and Lex play at a club every once in a blue moon,
and getting tested regularly is part of their membership contract, but I’ll get him to get another one so
there’s no doubt that he’s clean.”
“Do you think Mateo would be okay with it, if I asked?” Lydia returns, voice full of curiosity.
I huff a laugh. “Love, I’m pretty sure that if you asked him to jump off a bridge, his only
question would be ‘which one?’”
Lydia giggles and the sound makes my stomach flutter. God, the things this woman does to me,
and she has no idea.
“We can make a double date of it. A quick stop at the clinic, then we can catch dinner and a
movie,” she teases, rolling her eyes.
I laugh with her, and her smile is soft again. We are quiet for a long moment, and I get lost in
the color of her eyes. Emerald, but with flecks of moss green and even seafoam in places. Her pupils
widen the longer we stare, and her scent drifts toward me, rain and honey and vanilla calling to my
soul. There would be time to discuss other things, but the pull between is nearly undeniable. Her
tongue darts out to trace along her lips, and I follow the movement, sucking in a deep breath. I’m done
making excuses. I drag my eyes away from her mouth, setting my face into a playful smirk.
“Do you still want this?” I whisper.
She nods without hesitation, sitting up straight again. I close my eyes, tilting my head to each
side before getting to my feet and dropping my hold on her hands. When I open my eyes, Lydia is
looking up at me, eyes bright with anticipation.
“When we play, you will call me ‘sir.’ Do you understand, little one?” I ask, voice husky.
“Yes, sir,” she breathes, and damn it if that doesn’t set my cock to throbbing.
“What are your safe words?” I prompt, fingers flexing at my sides.
Lydia swallows hard, and her next breath is shaky. “Green is good, yellow to slow down, red
to stop. Sir.”
I chuckle at her hasty addition, leaning down until I’m nearly nose to nose with her, my arm
braced on the back of her chair. I can see Lydia’s pulse jumping in the vein on her throat, and I want to
sink my teeth into it. I drag my eyes back to her with deliberate slowness, enjoying the tremble in her
breathing the longer I’m silent. When my eyes meet hers again, there’s only a sliver of green left
around the black of her blown-out pupils.
“Last chance, Lydia. Are you ready?” I whisper, pressing forward until my lips brush against
hers as I speak.
“Yes, sir. Please.”
The desperation in her little squeak makes me purr deep in my chest. The air between us
practically crackles with tension, a bowstring pulled taught, arrow ready to fly. I revel in it for one
last moment, the calm before the storm.
“Then let’s play.”
And then I lean down and claim her mouth with mine.
 Twenty-Five
Lydia

Rhett’s lips are a hard press that is as relentless as everything else about this moment. His lips move
mine, guiding me and giving me almost no choice but to follow. My eyes fall closed, and my hands
curl around the edges of his hoodie, the zipper digging into my palms as I hold on for dear life.
Rhett’s whiskey scent fills every part of my mind, the feeling of his lips, the way his tongue pushes at
the seam of my mouth driving out every other thought. I moan as I open for him, letting him take the
lead for the moment. I can taste the hint of champagne and orange juice still lingering, but everything
else is all him.
When Rhett pulls back, I try to follow, but he moves too fast and I’m left in my chair, panting
hard. My eyes crack open, trying to find him even as my arms stretch as he straightens. I gasp as he
takes both of my wrists in one of his broad hands, breaking my hold. He yanks me to my feet, and I
only just barely manage to find my feet, stumbling as he pulls me toward the center of the room. My
feet sink deep into the white cloud of a carpet below me, the fibers tickling the spaces between my
toes. I stare up into Rhett’s face, words failing me at the inferno I see looking back at me. His eyes run
along my body, and I shiver at the predatory hunger there. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and I
let out a little involuntary whine.
Rhett steps into my space, holding my wrists against his chest between us. I fight the urge to
take a step back, but I drop my gaze to his throat, waiting for him to make a move. My entire body
trembles, but I’m not afraid. Something about the way Rhett looks at me is making my mind kick into
overdrive, and I focus on my breathing.
“Look at me, little one,” he drawls at last.
I look up slowly, still counting my breathing in my head. I can feel how wet I am, his scent and
body heat enough to bring out that reaction. His entire being is a potent, mind-scrambling drug, and I
can’t get enough. His eyes are half-lidded, his pupils blown wide so I can barely see the ice blue iris.
His gaze settles my fluttering stomach, even as my pussy throbs.
“Keep your eyes on me, love. Stay right here,” he purrs, and I nod mindlessly.
Rhett smiles. “Such a good girl, so eager to obey.”
His words go straight to my clit, and I can feel my racing heartbeat between my legs. I have to
fight the urge to rub my thighs together. He releases my wrists, but I don’t dare to move, keeping my
eyes locked with his. Rhett’s hands run down my arms, over my stomach, until his fingers slip below
the hem of my shirt. I work with him to lift it up and over my head, my eyes never leaving his. It’s so
easy to get lost there, to let my mind go blissfully blank like this. I’m hardly aware of his hands
freeing my breasts until I feel them fall, heavy and aching now. Rhett’s fingers pop the button on my
jeans, hands running over my hips until they stop, my pants halfway down my thighs.
“Have you not been wearing underwear this whole time?” Rhett asks, tone almost casual.
I swallow, shaking my head. His fingers dig into my skin, and I jump.
“No, sir. Mateo—”
My words are cut off with a gasp as Rhett’s hands move around and seize the globes of my
ass, pulling me into him as his lips find mine again in another demanding, bruising kiss. When he pulls
away, I’m breathless again, my head spinning. He kneels for a moment, helping me to step out of my
jeans before he’s back, towering over me.
“I’m going to tell you what I want to do, and you’re going to tell me if you consent. You can
say no to anything, and there won’t be any hard feelings. Do you understand, little one?” Rhett starts,
voice deadly serious.
I nod, but then remember the press of his fingers. “Yes, sir.”
He hums his approval, and it makes my heart skip. “Very good. I want you on your knees, and I
want to fuck this perfect mouth of yours. When I’m done with that, I’m going to tie you to the bed and
make you scream for me. How does that sound?”
My knees go a little weak, and I lock them to avoid collapsing on the spot. My head spins, the
sound of his voice making me drip. I’m still caught in his frozen blue gaze, and my only thoughts are
of pleasing him, of wanting to do everything he described and more.
“Yes, sir. Please,” I gasp, swallowing hard as my mouth goes dry.
“Good girl. On your knees for me then.”
I sink to the floor, sitting back on my heels as I stare up. Rhett’s hand comes up to cup my chin,
holding me there are his other hand moves to the crotch of his jeans, deftly working open the button
and zipper.
“So beautiful like this, on your knees for me. Such a good girl. Open for me, that’s it,” he
whispers.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him guiding his cock forward, and I open eagerly. The first
brush of him against my lips makes me shiver and whine and I try to take more, but Rhett’s fingers on
my chin tighten in warning. I settle back, letting him thrust forward and withdraw, only giving me the
tip. I close my lips around him, running my tongue along his length and I moan, the taste of him making
my eyes fall closed. He’s salty and sweet and bitter, like the finest dark chocolate. I ball my hands
into fists in my lap, fighting the urge to reach up and touch. His hand leaves my chin, and I use that as
my opportunity to take over the pace. His praise has set a fire in my belly, and I want to prove myself
worthy of it.
I revel in his gasp as I work my mouth around his cock, coating him until I can feel it sliding
down my chin. I suck deeper on each pass, whining each time I taste his pre-cum. He’s big, but I know
I can take him all. I furrow my brow in concentration, moaning when I feel his fist against my nose.
I’m close, and he’s going to be so pleased if I can just—
Rhett’s hand fists in my hair as I swirl my tongue around his tip, and my whole body freezes.
The heat pooling between my legs and in my chest banks as ice water fills my veins. My eyes fly
open, and I whimper. He pushes forward, the hand on the back of my head pushing me farther down.
My mind clears, and I finally get control over my limbs again. I shove his hips hard, falling backward
and closing my eyes.
“Lydia, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Rhett demands, panic and concern heavy in his voice.
I shake my head, trying to stop my chest from heaving. I focus on Rhett’s whiskey and leather
scent, using it ground myself, to keep my mind in the present. I feel hands on my jaw, cradling my face
in gentle hands.
“Do you need to stop? What’s your color?”
I open my eyes and find Rhett on his knees in front of me, a serious frown pulling down the
corners of his perfect mouth. The color is back in his eyes, and my eddying thoughts calm a little as I
sit for a few heartbeats.
“You can touch my head, but don’t… don’t force me,” I sputter, trying to stop my hands from
shaking.
“I’m so sorry, Lydia. Is this red for you?” Rhett asks.
I shake my head. “I just need… if you’re going to have your hands in my hair, I need to have
control of the pace. I can’t—”
“You don’t need to say anything else. Are we done, or do you still want to continue?” he
pushes.
I close my eyes and take one last deep breath. When I feel the last of the ice leave, I set my
shoulder and nod. “I’m green, sir. Do you still want me to suck your cock?”
When I open my eyes, Rhett is staring at me with wonder and blistering hot arousal written in
every line of his gorgeous face. I smile a little, pleased with how much my words seem to affect him.
He blinks, and the tenderness disappears, leaving only desire. His hands flex around my jaw before
he reaches down and takes my hands. As I move back to my kneeling position, he straightens,
positioning my hands on his hips, palms flat.
“If you need to stop, push hard like you did before. If you just need to breathe, tap on my legs,
okay?” Rhett instructs.
“Yes, sir,” I reply, letting my mouth fall open for him.
“Good girl.”
He guides his cock back to my mouth, and I push aside the little nagging voice that notices that
he isn’t as hard now as he was before. I set to work, swallowing him down with gusto. It doesn’t take
long before he’s hard and twitching in my mouth, hips thrusting forward to meet my pace. His fingers
trail along my shoulder, and I nod, grateful for the warning before his fingers thread into my hair, fists
pulling with just the right pressure. I moan, and his hips falter, his breathing speeding up.
“You are so fucking perfect. Keep going, just like that,” Rhett babbles, head falling back as his
chest heaves.
I smile to myself, humming a little and earning a moan from deep in his throat. He still has one
hand wrapped around his base, and I act on the burst of confidence his praise gives me. I snatch his
wrist and yank his hand away, taking him deeper before he reacts. He wobbles a little, and I grip the
lip of his jeans pockets, holding him steady as I keep up my pace.
“Lydia, I’m—fuck—” Rhett cuts himself off as I let him slip all the way down my throat at
last.
I keep my throat muscles relaxed, breathing through my nose as I swallow around his cock,
basking in the burn and stretch. I look up as my nose touches the patch of hair at his base, and I feel
his knot pulsing with his heartbeat against my lips. Our eyes connect, and I moan long and loud as his
hand tightens in my hair. He doesn’t hold me there, but the grip anchors us both in this moment. I
swallow again, letting my tongue work the underside of his shaft, his skin soft and warm, the weight
of him in my mouth settling my mind.
Rhett’s eyes roll back into his head and his hips twitch, his purr rattling my teeth as it vibrates
his whole body. With no warning, I feel his cock pulse, and then I taste his hot cum as it coats the back
of my throat. I swallow eagerly, the bitter chocolate taste filling my senses. It goes on and on, but I
hold him there, using my grip on his jeans to keep him from moving away until I’m sure I’ve taken
every drop. As I come up, I make sure to lick him clean, earning more hissing moans that make my
heart dance.
I finally release my grip on him, and Rhett stumbles back a few steps, bracing an arm on the
footboard as he bends slightly, trying to catch his breath. His hair hangs down, and I smile to myself,
using my thumb to wipe my chin of the little bit of dribble.
 “You just about sucked my soul from my body, love. Holy shit,” Rhett says between panting
breaths.
I smile brightly, even if he can’t see it. I fight the urge to move to him, eager to do it again if
this is how he’s going to react. My own pleasure feels secondary, everything in me focused on
pleasing Rhett. I don’t know when it happened, but my head feels quiet, all of my anxiety gone. Rhett
looks up at me through his brows, and his nearly feral grin makes my pussy throb.
“Come here, sweet girl. On your knees,” Rhett growls, adding the last part as I move to stand.
I lean forward hesitantly on hands and knees, the soft carpet sinking under my weight. I move
until I’m right under where Rhett is bent nearly in half, leaning over me. I look up into his face, trying
to keep calm.
“I hadn’t planned on giving you my cum so soon, little one. I was going to fuck you, but now
I’ve got some time to kill before I can do that. How shall we pass the time, hmm?” he coos, reaching
down and cupping my chin in one of his huge hands.
“However you’d like, sir. I’m yours,” I whisper, not sure where the words come from, but
they feel right.
“That’s right, sweet girl. You’re mine,” Rhett says, the last word coming out as a growl before
he leans down and kisses me, lips hot and demanding.
It’s a brief meeting of the lips, and I whine for more even as he pulls away. He chuckles, and I
let him pull me to my feet by my chin. I keep my eyes on his, the press of his fingers sending little
sparks along my skin. He turns me around, a hand between my shoulder blades making me bend at the
waist over the footboard. It’s tall enough that I have to stand on tiptoe to bend fully, and the wood digs
into my stomach. I try to shift to get more comfortable, but Rhett pulls me back to add a folded throw
blanket to cushion me before I can voice the discomfort. I feel a gentle nudge against one of my feet,
forcing my legs apart until my dripping sex is fully exposed to him.
“If it wasn’t clear before during our talk, when we play, you will always ask permission to
come. Do you understand?” Rhett asks, tone losing the playful edge for a moment.
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl. Now let’s have some fun,” he says, words breaking off as he growls.
I turn my head to look back at him as best as I can in this position, and the hungry look in his
eyes as he stares at my ass and thighs makes me gasp. His eyes flick to me, assessing for a moment,
but returning to the task at hand. His hands massage the globes of my ass, thumbs brushing close to my
outer lips, but never putting pressure where I want. It goes on and on, his hands working down my
thighs and back up, and my pussy aches hollowly. When his hand brushes close again, I try to shift my
hips to get him to touch where I need. Rhett’s growl is my only warning before I hear the crack of
flesh on flesh, and I feel a sharp pain blossom across my skin. I suck in a sharp inhalation, even as his
hands work the pain away.
“Keep still, or you’ll get more of that,” he commands, his voice nearly a full octave lower.
I whimper, pressing my face to the bed as his roaming hands start up again. This time, his
fingers brush over my outer lips, but the touch is so light as to be nonexistent. I fight the urge to push
back, to try to get what my body craves.
“You’re doing so well, sweet girl. I thought for sure I’d need to spank you again, but you’ve
been so good. Shall I reward you?” he asks, light and soothing.
“Please,” I whimper, my voice muffled by the duvet.
“Please, what?”
“Please, sir,” I beg, turning a little so he can hear me better.
 “Good girl.”
At the first brush of his fingers against my clit, my back bows sharply, nearly lifting my
shoulders off the bed. Rhett’s little chuckle is lost as I let out a shuddering exhale, closing my eyes at
the electric pleasure careening through my veins. I bite my lip, muffling my moans as his finger slowly
circles that little pleasure bud, my legs shaking with the effort to stay still. I hear the crack of his palm
before I feel the pain, and I don’t have the brain capacity to handle how my pussy clenches at the bite
of pleasure-pain.
“You do not hide your pleasure from me, love. I don’t care if you scream so loud that the
concierge can hear you in the lobby, but you do not hold back from me. Understand?”
I choke as his fingers speed up, the pleasure building in my gut. I moan as his hand comes
down again and I nod.
“Yes, sir,” I moan, the word drawn out as I shiver.
“I can feel your cunt flutter for me whenever I spank you. Do you like it when I do that, little
one?”
The shake of my head is an instinct I don’t have time to check. Spankings weren’t uncommon
when I was growing up, and it was never pleasant. Spankings meant I’d done something wrong, and I
shouldn’t enjoy displeasing Rhett to the point he needed to spank me. But when he brings his hand
down again, the warm pain spreading across my skin, I can’t deny the pulse in my core, or the
wetness dripping from me.
“Oh, I think you do, love. Or why do you gush so sweetly when I do this.” Rhett punctuates his
words with another slap, and I moan as I feel his finger slip inside of my channel.
I flush hot, burying my face in the covers again, shame falling heavy on my shoulders. My
mind is a war of sensation. The pleasure of his hand as he works one finger in and out of my
throbbing slit, his thumb still circling my clit. The pain in my ass from his strikes. The confusion over
why that ache only makes me wetter. I whimper and whine, shaking my head and trying to clear my
thoughts.
“Focus on my voice, Lydia. Stay with me. That’s a good girl,” Rhett exhales, his voice
vibrating with the purr I can feel in my bones.
I nod, trying to obey. He adds a second finger to my channel, and I gasp. His free hand rubs
lightly over the skin of my behind, moving in slow circles.
“You are so wet for me, little one. You are allowed to enjoy my touch, no matter how it
comes. You are so good, so responsive to me. Can you take one more of my fingers, hmm? Can you do
that for me?”
Rhett’s low mutterings help bring me back, and I nod, not trusting my voice right now. I suck
in sharply as he stretches my pussy, three of his thick fingers working in a slow, steady rhythm that
makes the fire build in my core. I pant, unable to stop my hips from rocking back to meet his hand. I
grit my teeth around a moan as I feel his tongue against my clit, flicking with exactly the right pressure
to send me soaring up toward my release. The wet sound of his hands, his deep moans as he drinks in
my essence make my skin flush, sweat beading along my brow and back.
“Sir, I’m—I’m close,” I pant, my voice high pitched and breathy.
“Ask me for it,” Rhett growls against my skin.
I swallow, legs shaking as I feel the coil in my gut winding tighter and tighter. His hand picks
up speed, and I groan.
“P-please…” I stammer, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Please. What.”
 I writhe, trying to escape but wanting to fall all at the same time. Rhett doesn’t let up, and I
can hardly get enough air into my lungs. My feet slip on the floor, and I’m impaled farther on Rhett’s
hand, making me scream.
“Please let me come for you! Please, sir, can I come?”
“Come for me, little one. Give me what’s mine.”
My vision whites out as stars burst, my release gushing from me and spreading to every corner
of my body. Rhett’s hand doesn’t slow, and I feel his teeth latch onto the skin of my inner thigh, adding
another bite of pleasure-pain to send my mind reeling. I feel another orgasm building hot and fast and
I try to get purchase on the bed, trying to pull away as my body goes into overload. Rhett snarls, and I
feel him lean over me, his arm pressing on my lower back to keep me in place.
“Again, Lydia.”
My body sags as I give in to his command, the release like liquid fire in my veins. The wet
sounds of his hand fucking into me are obscene and perfect, but I hardly notice them. My throat feels
raw, my moans almost continuous now as I clench and flutter around Rhett’s fingers. This peak goes
on and on, and I feel boneless as I let the waves wash over me. Rhett keeps going, wringing my body
of each ounce of pleasure it can give. I let my eyes slide closed, the world fading as I fall into a sea
of ecstasy.
When I come to, I’m no longer bent over the footboard, but on my laying on my side. I breathe
in deep, and I inhale a deep lungful of Rhett’s whiskey scent. I feel his body heat radiating into my
front, and as I crack my eyes open, I see the little clover tattoo on his chest. My eyes feel heavy as I
drag them up from his chest to his face, but the warm smile on Rhett’s face makes me hum contentedly.
“Welcome back,” he whispers, leaning down and kissing my hairline.
I try to answer, but end up coughing. My throat is parched, and I try to swallow but I have no
moisture to give. Rhett leans over me and comes back with a little water bottle. He cracks it and
helps me take a few long pulls. I smile gratefully, and Rhett chuckles.
As he leans over me to put the bottle back, I realize that he’s naked—very naked. My eyes
trail down his chest, along the contours of his chiseled pecs and abs, down to his hips. His cock is
half hard, but my eyes are drawn to his right thigh, and I gasp in surprise.
“Yeah, that’s usually the reaction I get whenever someone sees my c—”
“Forget your dick. How long did this take?” I exclaim, reaching for his thigh.
Rhett’s thigh from hip to knee is covered in the most intricate Celtic knot tattoo I’ve ever seen.
It wraps almost all the way around the corded muscle, an intricate weave of black and gray ink. I try
to follow the pattern with a finger, but I lose the thread whenever it disappears around the back or
between his legs. I do notice that his cock twitches every time my finger approaches it, but I’m too
engrossed in the work of art on his skin to notice.
He laughs. “I can honestly say that this is the first time someone has told me to ‘forget my
dick.’”
I wave a dismissive hand, rolling my eyes. “This is incredible, Rhett. What does it mean?”
He growls, snatching my hand away from his skin. I suck in a sharp breath, eyes flying to his.
The heat is back, his mouth twisted in a savage smirk.
“We can talk about my ink another time. I’m not done with you just yet. Or did you think a few
orgasms would get you out of taking my cock in that perfect cunt?”
I shake my head vigorously, squeaking as Rhett squeezes my wrist a little. “No, sir.”
Rhett’s dark chuckle makes me shiver for an entirely different reason. “Good girl. I’m going to
bind your hands, since you’re having trouble keeping them to yourself. I’ve got shears on the side
table if you need out, okay?”
It’s getting easier to see when Rhett is being dominant and when he’s not, the change in his
voice, the softening around his eyes. Knowing that this is just pretend, that he can turn it off whenever
he needs settles something restless in my gut. I feel safer, and it’s easier to turn off the swirl of my
thoughts and nod my consent. He kisses me again, and I moan into his mouth, leaning into his embrace.
When Rhett pulls away, he guides me onto my back and takes my wrists in his hands,
stretching my arms above me. I look up to see him slipping a coil of emerald green rope around my
wrists, and I inhale as he pulls the loop tight. I test the bond, pulling but not with the intent to escape.
I’ve only got a few inches of slack, but the way my wrists sit isn’t uncomfortable. Rhett sits back, and
I settle my legs on either side of him, opening and presenting my core.
“Such a good girl, opening for me. You are so perfect, Lydia,” he breathes, eyes bright with
emotion.
I feel my face heat as he sits back on his heels between my legs, suddenly feeling very
exposed as his eyes roam up and down my body with undisguised need. I tuck my chin, opening my
legs to allow him access to my swollen sex. Rhett hums with satisfaction, and I try not to squirm as I
hear him ripping a foil package and popping the cap on a bottle. I close my eyes and turn my face
away, trying to calm my anxious thoughts. I feel his weight settle over me, and a gentle hand on the
back of my head brings my head back around.
“Lydia, look at me, please,” he whispers softly.
The change in his tone makes me open my eyes and meet his gaze as he hovers over my face. I
feel him guiding his cock against me, spreading a combination of lube and my own juices around my
opening. Every brush of his blunt tip against my clit sends a jolt through me.
“I see all of you, and there isn’t a single inch of you that doesn’t make me ache with need. You
never have to hide from me, and I won’t ever run.”
His words stir something in me, and the emotion welling in his eyes makes my stomach do
cartwheels even as he presses forward, sliding his hard length into my tight heat. We gasp in unison;
the sensations making my head spin as he moves slowly, backing off and advancing, working more of
his cock in with every roll of his hips. When he finally bottoms out, we stay still for a long moment,
eyes locked. His chest heaves in short pants, and I lose myself in the expression of awe and desire
spreading across his face.
Rhett moves again, hips snapping with sharp thrusts that hit me deep and knock the wind out of
me as he touches that sweet spot with each move. His hands grip my thighs hard enough that I’m sure
I’m going to have bruises later, rocking my hips back to meet his as he picks up speed. The feral
beauty that takes over his face as he sits back slightly makes me whine. I want to touch him, feel the
flex of his muscles as he drives into me again and again. His hands move up to my breasts, squeezing
and kneading them with exactly the right amount of pressure to make my eyes flutter closed. I lose
myself again in the rising tide of sensation, the pain of Rhett’s fingers pinching my nipples and the
bone deep pleasure with each brush of his cock over my nerves.
“Rhett—” I gasp, neck arching back.
I yelp when his hand cracks along the outside of my thigh, pain blooming behind it even as my
pussy clenches. I moan as his hips stutter, making him growl with savage delight. I whimper as he
moves one of my legs down and pulling the other up to his shoulder, twisting my hips until I lay
partially on my side with his cock still buried inside of me.
“Try that again, little one,” he snarls, slowing to grind deep inside.
“Sir! I’m sorry, sir! Fuck,” I shout, eyes flying open at the change and how this position
somehow lets him touch places I didn’t know existed.
“Very good. Now... beg,” Rhett snaps, pushing deep inside and holding still.
I moan, trying to roll my hips and take him more. Another slap makes me groan, and the
fullness of his cock inside my throbbing, aching slit is enough to bring tears to my eyes.
“Please, sir, please—”
“Please, what?”
“Please make me come! Please make me come on your cock!”
Rhett snarls, pushing deep and stretching my leg until he’s almost leaning over me.
“With. Pleasure.”
Rhett tosses my leg to the side, flipping me on my back as he fucks into me hard and fast, and I
scream as fireworks go off over every inch of my skin, my legs shaking with the force of my climax.
Rhett stretches over my head and a moment later, my arms are free even as my wrists stay bound.
Rhett loops them around his neck and hauls me up as he rocks back into his knees. I shout as the
change in position makes his pelvis grind into my clit, sending off a fresh wave as I climax again.
“Rhe—sir, can I have your knot? Please? Please, I want you,” I babble, bringing my hands up
to thread my fingers into his hair.
He finds my mouth with his, claiming me as thoroughly with his tongue as he has my pussy. I
moan into his mouth, and I find the leverage to meet his thrust, making him purr like a diesel engine.
When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against mine, our bodies slipping together with sweat.
“Come with me, one more time, Lydia. Come and take my knot, you perfect girl,” Rhett pants,
hands digging into my ass as he helps me ride him.
Whether it’s the pressure of his hands on my ass, digging enough to just add that bite of
pleasure-pain, or the way his voice grinds out like a prayer, or the praise he pours down on me, my
stomach rolls and I gasp as a slow warmth spreads through me. I feel him throb inside of me as he
throws his head back and roars. With one last thrust, he locks in place, and I let my head drop back as
the rocking waves of orgasm crash over me.
We sit for a long moment, just breathing and coming down from the high. I feel detached from
my body, floating above it as I let my mind go blank. Rhett’s hands slide up my back, tipping me
forward until my forehead rests on his shoulder. One of his arms holds me close while the other
gently toys with the ends of my hair.
“I am... mush. Floaty… mush,” I mutter dazedly.
Rhett’s little chuckle shifts his still hard cock inside of me, making us both groan a little at the
sensation. Once the waves subside, Rhett reaches behind his head and lifts my arms so they’re tucked
between us.
“How are your arms? Are you sore?” Rhett asks as he works the knots free.
“I have arms?” I return, only half joking.
“And lovely ones, at that.”
I hum a little as the rope comes free and Rhett rubs the ache away with care. I’m slowly
coming back down to reality, and all the little grounding touches feel like magic.
“I’m so proud of you, Lydia. You did so well for your first scene. I couldn’t have asked for
more.” He wraps his arms around my torso and burying his face in my neck.
My heart leaps into my throat at his words, and I feel tears forming as I close my eyes and
wrap my arms around his neck. I feel light enough that, if Rhett told me I could fly, I’d jump off the
balcony to try. Instead, I cling to him like a koala, basking in the safety of his touch.
 Twenty-Six
Lydia

Later that day, I’m curled up on the couch in the suite, cocooned inside of the fluffiest blanket I’ve
ever felt. Rhett had given me the emerald green slice of heaven, along with a matching bathrobe and
slippers, after we’d cleaned up from our play session, along with instructions to take a nap while he
ran to my apartment to get me clothes for the rest of the weekend. If it were up to me, clothes would
be optional until Monday morning, but he insisted. I slept a little and woke up feeling much better. I
snooped through his drawers after that, blushing at the collection of rope and other toys I’d found in
one, but found a pair of shorts and a T-shirt to wear while I waited.
I zone out, watching the clouds roll by through the balcony door, surprised by how utterly
content I am. The common area was peaceful, designed for relaxation, and it sucked me in. My phone
vibrates on the arm of the couch where it was charging. I untangle an arm from the blanket, eyebrows
lifting at the message I received.

Jason: Sam just texted me. Can I call?

I push the call button for him, and he picks up after the first ring.
“Hey, Lydi. I’m really sorry,” Jason starts.
“Why are you apologizing?” I ask, confused.
“I didn’t mention anything about the wedding. Honestly, my plan was to take the invitation and
then have it conveniently get lost in the mail so you’d be none the wiser. I should have known that
something would happen after Mom called you at your job,” he rambles.
“It’s not your fault. Mom did what she does best: scheme and plot,” I deadpan.
Jason lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Yeah,” he says flatly.
I’m silent for a while, absently toying with the corner of the blanket.
“Are you going to come down for it?” he asks softly.
“I’m not sure I have a choice. It’s going to be easier just to let her think she’s won this battle,
so she doesn’t send anyone to find me,” I grumble.
“Good point. That would be the next move. And I don’t think I’d be able to intercept whoever
she sends,” Jason concedes.
“It is going to piss Mom off when I send back that RSVP, and say I’m bringing a plus one,” I
chuckle.
“Oh? You’re seeing someone?” Jason asks, perking up.
I smile to myself, cheeks heating. “Yeah. He’s… something else. I’m actually really excited
for you to meet him.”
“Is he a beta?” he asks curiously.
“Um… alpha, actually,” I admit slowly.
“Lydi, we talked about this,” Jason starts.
“I know. But I can’t begin to tell you how different he is, Jace. He’s respectful, and kind, and
understanding. And he’s just… really good,” I explain, finding it hard to put my feelings into words.
 “I get it, Lydia. I really do. I just don’t want you to get hurt again,” Jason pushes with a sharp
exhale.
“I told him about Darren,” I admit.
“And how’d that go?” Jason asks hesitantly.
“He’s coming with me to the wedding to make sure I’m okay. Not just physically, but, like,
mentally and emotionally, too. I didn’t have to ask. He just offered,” I say with a smile.
“Well, that’s good. I’m glad you’ll have someone watching your back at least.”
“Mom and Dad are going to blow a gasket when they meet him,” I admit with a wide, petty
smile.
“Yeah? Is he, like, a Falcons fan or something?” Jason jokes.
I roll my eyes. “No, but he thinks that all the stuff they taught us about traditional dynamic
roles is a giant steaming sack of horseshit.”
Jason’s laugh is tense, and I sigh. I want Jason and Rhett to get along, but I can’t deny the little
piece of my heart that is looking forward to watching my parents attempt Olympic-level mental
gymnastics as they try to reconcile the otherwise perfect alpha with such progressive views.
“As long as he never puts his hands on you, then I can live with that,” Jason says at last.
I blush at the memory and residual soreness of Rhett very much putting his hands on me, and
how much I enjoyed it. “Rhett would rather cut his hands off than strike out in anger at someone he
cares about,” I reply, with no doubt in my heart.
“I like him already. Listen, I have to get back to work. But I just wanted to let you know that
I’m going to have to cancel my visit next month. Dad has us lined up for this huge project and I can’t
convince him to let me take the time off,” Jason says, words coming out in a rush.
I slump back, disappointment filling my chest. Jason only visited me once or twice a year, and
he’d pushed off his visit twice now. He never mentioned where he was going on these trips, but my
father is not a stupid man.
“Yeah, no, that’s okay. I’ll still see you at the wedding,” I reply, hoping my casual tone doesn’t
come off as fake as it feels.
“Sorry, Lydi. Tell Miss Wila and Gabby I’m sorry, too, okay? We can try to set up a video call
soon so I can meet this Rhett of yours,” Jason adds, and I can hear the genuine regret in his voice that
makes me feel a little better.
We end the call with a promise to figure out a time we can sit down and do the video call, and
I tip my head back to rest on the cushions. Jason wanting to make the effort to meet Rhett, even if he’s
not thrilled about him being an alpha, is nice. I don’t need Jason’s approval, but my brother’s opinion
means the world to me.
I’m debating the merits of trying to hunt down the remote for the TV when the elevator rings. I
glance toward it and sit up as I realize it’s not just Rhett stepping out. He’s holding my backpack by
the straps at his side, and he’s looking at his phone with his other hand. Mateo is next to him, pointing
at something on Rhett’s screen as they exit. He’s not wearing the sports jacket anymore, and the
sleeves of his white button-down are rolled up to his elbows. As they clear the door, my eyes catch
on the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
Her dark brown hair is back in an elegant twist, leaving the angles and slopes of her neck and
jaw exposed. Red painted lips are pulled down in a slight frown as she concentrates on whatever
she’s reading on her tablet. Her makeup is flawless, smooth skin with not one line or wrinkle or pore
to be found. Everything about her face screams elegance and class. She’s dressed in high-waisted
black trousers and a red silk blouse that I have no doubt cost more than what I make in a month. Her
heels clack on the marble floor as she enters the suite, and the air in my lungs disappears when she
turns her stunning hazel eyes on me.
“Lydia! I wasn’t expecting you to still be here!” Mateo exclaims.
I flick my gaze to him, seeing his delighted smile and bright eyes. But my eyes are pulled back
to the woman, and I find myself unable to form words while I’m under her inspection.
“Lydia, this is—”
“Alexandra St. Clair,” I gasp, eyes wide.
“And you must be Lydia Anderson,” Alexandra replies, her sultry voice lilting with a
transatlantic accent, one corner of her mouth pulling up in a smirk.
Her scent hits me a moment later, like warm spiced wine, and what little brain function I’d
recovered disappears. My heart slams against the inside of my chest, trying to break free and fly into
her hands. They’re all looking at me, and I blush a deep crimson as I realize I’ve been staring. I tuck
my chin and look away at last, letting my hair fall in front of my face.
“You’ve broken her, Lex,” Mateo whines, and I feel his arms slide around my shoulders from
behind the couch.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“I’ve got your clothes if you want to change,” Rhett offers, but I can still hear the laughter in
his voice.
I untangle myself from the blanket and Mateo, dashing across the room to take the bag. I give
Rhett an apologetic but grateful look before hurrying toward his room.
“Is she okay?” I hear Alexandra ask as I move down the hall.
I close Rhett’s door before I can hear if anyone answers. I lean against it, hand on my forehead
as I try to catch my breath. My heart is still beating like a hummingbird in my chest, and I swallow as
my mouth goes dry. My embarrassment follows me into the bathroom, and my thoughts swirl with
scolding remarks. I tip the bag out onto the long counter, pleased to see that Rhett included my
toothbrush and my makeup bag with my clothes. I freshen up as I look over my options. A few
dresses, but mostly comfy clothes. I decide on a short-sleeved green wrap dress that falls just below
my knees. I tame the mess of my hair, braiding it back before throwing on a quick coat of eyeliner and
mascara.
I’m giving myself a last once over when there’s a knock at the door. I step into the main room
as Rhett opens the door, a sheepish smile on his face. He stops when he sees me, jaw going slack for
a moment, before he visibly shakes himself and clears his throat.
“I just wanted to check on you. You seem a little…”
“I’m sorry. I’ve probably made a terrible first impression,” I whine, hiding my face in my
hands.
Rhett chuckles, and I feel him wrap his arms around my shoulders and pull me against his
chest. “It’s me who should apologize. I should have texted you to let you know we were coming up.”
“It’s fine. I just… well, I was just a little flustered. I can pull it together,” I say firmly,
straightening my spine.
“Flustered?” Rhett questions, pulling away to cock an eyebrow at me.
I feel the blush creep across my chest under his scrutiny. “Well, Alexandra is… she’s really
pretty. I’d seen pictures, but…” I let out a low whistle.
Rhett throws his head back and laughs. “Is that all? Love, it’s okay,” he says, still laughing.
My face feels like it’s about to combust. “I’m sure she’s not… well, she’s got all y’all. And
I’ve never even kissed a girl before,” I mutter, staring down at the chipping paint on my toes.
 “You have nothing to worry about. Lucas and I are both attracted to you. Mateo’s queerer than
a three-dollar bill. And Lex… gender isn’t a thing she considers, as she doesn’t sleep with anyone
she doesn’t connect with. But I’m sure that once she gets to know you—”
“I’m so screwed,” I moan, my face and neck flushing hot all over again.
“Just relax, love. You’ve got Mateo wrapped around your little finger, and I’m not going
anywhere. One step at a time, okay? Lucas is bringing some leftover catering home from an event, so
we’re going to eat here together. It’s just dinner. No pressure whatsoever,” Rhett soothes, rubbing my
arms as he holds me at arm’s length.
I take a few deep breaths. “I’m so underdressed,” I whisper, rolling my head back to stare at
the ceiling.
“Lydia.”
The command in his tone draws my eyes back to his face. His brow is set in a stern line, but
his eyes are tropical pools beneath them. I set my shoulders again, and it makes him smile.
“I’m not crazy, though, right? Alexandra is really, intimidatingly, pretty, or is that just me?” I
question before I can stop myself.
“Oh, no. You are absolutely correct. She’s gorgeous,” Rhett responds seriously.
I deflate a little, biting my bottom lip and dipping my head. Rhett’s finger under my chin draws
my line-of-sight back up to his.
“But so are you, love,” he whispers before leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine.
 Twenty-Seven
Lydia

“Leftover catering” turns out to be a veritable buffet of foil trays. Lucas complains loudly as he
unloads the food onto the kitchen island about how the client ordered enough to feed a small island
nation, but only brought a couple dozen people to the event. There was enough left over for the event
staff to take what they wanted and then some, and Lucas brought what would fit in one elevator ride,
leaving the rest in the hotel employee break room.
I stand back for a moment as I watch the pack interact. Alexandra kisses Lucas’s temple
affectionately as she fills a plate. Rhett moves past me to elbow Mateo out of the way for a plate,
squeezing Lucas’s shoulder as he passes him. Lucas unloads the last tray and notices me as he pushes
the cart back over toward the elevator.
“Well, don’t just stand there! There’s plenty,” Lucas says with an encouraging smile.
I return the smile with a shy one of my own, moving forward toward the food. Lucas hands me
a plate and rests a gentle hand on the small of my back as he points out what each tray contains. I
blush at the casual affection, looking to Rhett for assurance. But he’s already moving to the dining
table, plate in hand, not concerned in the slightest.
“I saw the champagne on the coffee table when we got back. What are we celebrating?”
Mateo asks, scooping some sort of mixed vegetable sauté onto my plate.
I freeze, even as my mind kicks into overdrive. How much do I have to tell them? Would they
ask follow-up questions? I didn’t feel like going through my trauma for a second time today. I’m
staring at my plate, watching as the food piles up as Mateo moves on to another tray to give me a
scoop of the potato dish. But I can’t get my brain to form words.
“Her brother is getting married,” Rhett cuts in smoothly.
I let out a slow breath and cast a grateful look in Rhett’s direction. He winks ever so subtly in
reply, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge my momentary panic.
“Mazel tov. When and where are they tying the knot?” Lucas asks, an excited gleam in his eye.
“It’s going to be in September, and they’ve booked Southern Oaks, in New Orleans,” I
respond, recalling the information Wila gave me over the phone.
“Shame they aren’t going local. Bright Hills needs more fall weddings,” Lucas comments with
a shrug.
I chuckle, walking away toward the table with my full plate. “That is local for them. All of my
family lives about an hour from New Orleans.”
“Interesting. How did you end up in Georgia?” Alexandra asks as I sit.
I hesitate again, taking a put to try to buy some time. But Rhett is there again, covering with
ease and giving me a soft landing on this treacherous ground.
“You moved here with a friend of your brother’s after college, right?” he prompts.
“Right. Dani needed a roommate, and I wanted to try something new,” I continue with a shrug.
“What did you study?” Alexandra asks, leaning forward with a bright glint to her hazel eyes.
I blush under the intensity of her stare, taking a bite of my food to collect myself before
answering. “Hospitality. Event management, specifically.”
 The dinner continues as the pack peppers me with questions, occasionally drifting off on a
tangent together, laughing and joking all the while. They talk about their days, Lucas complaining
more about the event he worked on, Mateo showing off photos from a house they’re considering for
restoration. Alexandra listens the most, asking questions about business matters, and slinging barbed
words back and forth with Mateo. I relax while they banter, content to listen to them interact.
It hits me as they work together to clean up the food that this is how most families are. They
don’t eat in silence, listening to a conversation between two people, only speaking when spoken to.
They don’t keep their eyes on the table, and it isn’t the end of the world if someone’s cell phone
happens to go off during the meal. I sit at the table trying to wrap my head around that while Mateo,
Rhett, and Lucas do the dishes. I look around at the art hanging on the walls, avoiding Alexandra’s
eyes.
“I’m sorry if I startled you earlier,” she starts softly.
I jump and look back at her with wide eyes. “Yeah, no, it’s okay. You didn’t startle me. I
just… sort of got blown away.” I trail off, twisting my hands in my lap.
Her little chuckle is just as dignified and refined as the rest of her. “You’re very sweet.”
“Thank you, ma’am—I mean Alexandra,” I stumble, blushing deep.
“The flowers Rhett got me. You did the arrangement, correct?” she questions.
I nod eagerly. “They’re probably about ready to turn. I can do another for you if you want?” I
ask, a little breathless.
Her wide smile is enough to make my head spin, her scent shifting to citrus and cinnamon.
“Would you? I’d like one for my home office, too, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Absolutely, no trouble at all, ma’am—Alexandra,” I correct myself.
She cocks her head, eyes curious. “If only I could get Lucas to be so respectful,” she sighs,
almost wistfully.
“I’ll be respectful when I feel like it, and not a moment sooner,” Lucas snaps from the kitchen.
Alexandra rolls her eyes but doesn’t turn her head. “He’s nothing but trouble. I don’t know
why we keep him,” she says with a scoff.
“He’s got a pretty cute butt,” I comment, shrugging.
She lets out a startled burst of laughter, and I smile back. She looks at me for another long
moment, and I go still. Her eyes are warm, almost golden in the late afternoon light filtering through
the balcony doors. Her skin glows with it, taking my breath away.
“Rhett, my love. When you go to the wedding, stay at the apartment. It’ll be better than staying
in whatever chain hotel they’ve no doubt blocked,” Alexandra calls over her shoulder.
“Can I go?” Lucas asks eagerly.
I nearly choke on my inhale, face paling. All the eyes in the room snap to me as I recover,
blushing bright red.
“I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to bring my boyfriend to my girlfriend’s
brother’s wedding,” Rhett chides firmly.
My cheeks heat further at Rhett’s words, my heart fluttering. I’d come to the same conclusion
in my head, even if I’d never put into words. It should feel weird for my boyfriend to also have a
boyfriend, but I only feel the happy little dancing butterflies in my stomach when I think about Rhett
officially acknowledging us as a couple. My gaze flicks to Mateo, but he’s smiling fondly at Rhett. He
seems to sense my look, finding my eyes from across the room. He gives me a little nod and a wink,
and I try not to melt in my chair.
“Obviously not to the wedding. Though I’m sure we’d liven up the place. I just meant on the
trip. I want to check in on a few friends from culinary school, maybe do a little headhunting. It would
be a business trip,” Lucas presses.
“We’ll talk about it,” Rhett says, looking between me and Lucas.
I nod with a relieved sigh. I didn’t know Lucas well enough to be able to navigate that sort of
interaction, of figuring out exactly how our dynamics would balance out, and having Rhett as backup
would be a godsend.
“Did you get enough to eat, Lydi? We can pack up some leftovers for you,” Lucas asks from
the kitchen.
I give him a polite smile and nod. I only had a small portion compared to the rest of them, but
I didn’t want to overindulge. I’m also a little taken aback by Lucas’s use of my brother’s nickname. I
like the way it sounds in his not-quite-Southern accent.
“Sorry if this is rude, but where are you from, Lucas?” I ask curiously.
Lucas chuckles, moving to the sink to wash the serving utensils. “It’s not rude, first of all. And
I’m from New York, not the city. Rochester, specifically,” he replies with a smirk.
I hum a response, tilting my head a little. “How d’you end up here?”
“I drift, and the winds of fate blew me into the waiting arms of my alphas,” Lucas returns with
a wistful sigh.
“Translation: he was couch surfing and applied for the job at The Valencia on a whim,” Rhett
deadpans with a roll of his eyes.
“You take the magic out of everything,” Lucas scoffs.
I raise my eyebrows and purse my lips as I tilt my head. Rhett certainly does not take the
magic out of the bedroom. Alexandra catches my look, and her melodious laugh makes me blush.
“Lucas told me of the favor you did us a few weeks ago,” Alexandra starts, turning to face me
more fully.
I swallow, all of those happy feelings gone. It feels like the principal has called me to her
office, but I didn’t know the reason yet. Her eyes are soft, but the stern set of her face is nearly
impossible to read. I nod, settling on letting her take the lead rather than incriminating myself.
“Ella was very impressed, as were several of her bridesmaids. That photographer you
brought in, Bryan? His photos were incredible, and he’s really stepped up. We’re considering his
reapplication to our vendor affiliate program,” Alexandra goes on, a small smile tugging at the
corners of her lips.
“Too bad his other line of work isn’t as sterling,” Rhett grumbles, just loud enough for us to
hear.
“For the last time, they were for his personal collection. And they were very tasteful.” I sigh,
pinching the bridge of my nose.
“I’m sorry. What sort of photos are we talking about? Lewds? Nudes?” Lucas asks, voice
exuberant with his excitement.
“Nothing like that. He... “
“Likes feet. Artsy pictures of feet,” Rhett finishes, words clipped.
Lucas lets out a cackling laugh, and I look back to Alexandra, feeling the heat creeping down
my face. Her eyes sparkling, she presses her lips into a thin line as she tries not to laugh outright.
“Rhett, I think you need to make a stop at the Leg Store, because you don’t have one to stand
on,” Mateo comments, leaning against the sink as he dries his hands with a towel.
Lucas’s laughter dies in a snort. “Do you want to be the pot or the kettle, Matty?” he snipes.
Mateo chuckles but shakes his head. “Don’t try to lump me in with the rest of y’all. Kinky
fuckers,” he says, but the words are warm with hidden laughter and teasing.
I can’t help the scoff and harsh roll of my eyes at his words. “Puh-lease. Then where are my
underwear, you fucking perv?”
Mateo laughs outright but shoves his hands into his pockets. And to my shock and horror, he
extracts a wad of purple lace as he withdraws.
“Told you, baby. Finders…keepers,” he purrs.
My face heats, but Rhett growls. I let him take over, picking up a full head of steam as he lays
into Mateo about how unprofessional it is to carry women’s underwear in his pocket, but especially
those of an unbonded omega, to a new client meeting. I turn back to face Alexandra, sighing sharply.
But my eyes go wide as I catch her smiling at me, just for a moment before she too starts in on Mateo.
The expression was so different, so brief that for a moment, I swear I’m imagining it. But my heart
still takes off, stomach twisting pleasantly.
Maybe I haven’t made such a bad first impression after all.
 Twenty-Eight
Lydia

“Remember, we have that early drive tomorrow out to Waynesboro. So don’t stay up ’til the ass crack
of dawn,” Wila instructs, standing on the landing to the stairs.
“Yes, Gran,” Gabby and I drone in unison, breaking off into giggles.
Wila rolls her eyes but retreats up the stairs. I’m staying at their place tonight, as we have an
early wedding out-of-town tomorrow. Gabby took it upon herself to turn it into a sleepover, complete
with junk food, gossip magazines, and face masks. We’d pulled the sleeper couch out and piled it with
blankets, including my present from Rhett. Gabby had nearly wet herself in delight when I’d told her,
in vague terms, about my weekend in the pack suite. She made me go through every detail I was
willing to share, insisting that she needed to live vicariously through me.
I’m scrolling through the movie selection on the streaming service, and Gabby is flipping
through the local gossip rag while she waits for me to decide. Her head is resting on my shoulder as
we share a blanket, her candy apple scent mixing with the traces of Rhett’s chocolate and whiskey.
She hums now and then when I nudge her to look up and give her input on a movie choice, but
otherwise she is absorbed in her gossip. Eventually, I settle on Hot Fuzz, a tried-and-true favorite.
“Get the popcorn ready, babe. It’s time to watch Nicholas Angel save the day again,” I
announce, turning to look at her.
My smile slides from my face, my blood going cold when I see the photo on the page she’s
reading. It’s dark, colored lights illuminating a crowded dance floor. In the middle of it, a couple is
entwined, the man’s face buried in the woman’s neck and hair. She’s wearing a purple one-shoulder
top and skinny jeans, and there’s a hint of a scar visible on her left shoulder. The man’s arms are tight
around her waist, and I recognize the tattoos in the blurry photo even before I read the bold headline:

MATEO HUTCHENSON MOVING ON AT LAST?

Gabby shifts to head to the kitchen and notices my wide-eyed stare. She looks down at the
article and photo and then back at me, her brow pulled down.
“What’s the matter?” she asks, confused.
“Can I see that?” I ask, my voice a hoarse whisper.
Gabby nods hesitantly, passing the magazine to me. I stare at the photo for a while. My face
isn’t visible as my back is to whomever took this picture. But my hands are in Mateo’s hair, and his
leg is between mine. One of Mateo’s hands is resting right above the swell of my ass, holding me
close. The position is compromising, to say the least. I breathe a slow, measured breath before turning
my attention to the text of the article.

Mateo Hutchenson is back on the prowl. After the very public breakup with pack omega Seth
Douglas last year, and Hutchenson’s withdrawal from the public eye, we thought Mateo had hung
up his Casanova spurs and left the life of partying and playboying behind him. But, thanks to this
 anonymous submission, we can report that Mr. Hutchenson has come back out to play and found
some company to mend his broken heart. He was spotted dancing with this mystery woman at
Freddy’s Retreat, the popular local gay club, on Thursday. Is this a sign of a changed man? Or is
this just a belated rebound? Only time will tell.

I sigh in frustration, the article leaving me with more questions than answers. The most
pressing of which was: “who is Seth Douglas?” It wasn’t like Mateo and I spent a lot of time talking
during our night together, but I can’t help the flare of anger in my gut at the mention of him with
another omega. And what does the author mean, exactly, by “pack omega”?
“You going to just huff and puff all night, or are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Gabby
asks flatly, making me jump.
“That’s me. In that picture,” I grit, turning the magazine around to face Gabby again.
“Really? How can you tell?” Gabby asks, perking up.
She takes the magazine back and skims the article before looking back at me expectantly.
“Mateo and I went to Freddy’s on Thursday after I got off work. He took me to the drag show,
we danced, and then I stayed the night at Wickland House.”
“Doesn’t explain how you know this is you in the picture. It’s too dark, and I can’t see the
girl’s face,” Gabby retorts skeptically.
“That’s the top I was wearing, and you can see a bit of my shoulder scar. Unless he was
dancing with another woman in a purple one-shoulder top that night, then that’s me.”
“Does Rhett know you were out with his pack mate?”
I bite my lip at the edge to her tone. “Yeah, of course he does. He was there at Wickland
House on Friday morning and saw me coming out of Mateo’s room. He’s smart enough to put two and
two together,” I answer, shoulders tensing defensively.
“And you slept with Mateo right before turning around and sleeping with Rhett? Isn’t that…”
Gabby trails off, giving me a strong side eye.
“It wasn’t like I hopped out of Mateo’s bed and walked across the hall to jump into Rhett’s.
Regardless, they’re both okay with this, and I’m okay with this,” I snap back, confusion seeping into
my anger.
Rhett and I finally taking that step felt right in the moment, like a culmination of weeks of flirty
texts and innuendo-filled conversations. With Mateo, it just felt so natural. He and I just clicked on a
level that I’ve never experienced before, and I have no regrets about spending the night with him. I
appreciate Rhett wanting to take things slow now that I can look back on it, because it gave me time to
develop the trust to know that he would look out for me and not press any unfair advantage when our
play makes me emotionally vulnerable. But Mateo’s very nature is spontaneous and authentic, so
following that pull to come together intimately didn’t feel wrong or rushed. Both alphas provide me
with something different in my relationships with them, and I can’t imagine not having either of them
in my life for the sake of keeping the other.
“I guess I’m just not used to you... being involved romantically with anyone, let alone two
people at that same time,” Gabby shrugs, a little too dismissive.
“I’ve dated before, and you’ve never had a problem with how fast or slow I take it,” I retort,
eyes narrowing.
I’d casually dated three guys since becoming friends with Gabby, but they were all betas
she’d set me up with. They’d been fine, but there hadn’t really been that spark I craved, so the
relationships never lasted. And now that Rhett and Mateo have started wildfires in my blood, I can
see how shallow those attempts at companionship had been.
“It’s not you that’s going to be the problem.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“They’re men, Lydia. If this is what they want now, this is probably all they’re going to want
ever.”
I blink and reel back slightly at the heat in her voice, the flash of her eyes. “Rhett isn’t afraid
of commitment. He’s been with Lucas for years—”
“Then why aren’t they bonded?”
I open my mouth to snap out a reply but come up short. My teeth clack together as I purse my
lips and try to recall Rhett ever mentioning why he and Lucas aren’t bond mates when they clearly are
both fully on board for the long haul. But even as I try to find any scrap of information in my memory,
my gut wraps itself up in knots. I look down into Gabby’s lap at the article and my shoulders sag.
Mateo never said anything about having been with an omega before, and Rhett’s only mention was
cryptic and vague. Who was Seth Douglas to this pack?
“It’s not that I don’t believe you when you say they’re good guys, but I don’t want to see you
back in that place where I found you,” she goes on, voice softer and her face full of worry.
I nod vaguely, fighting down the rising burn of anxiety in my chest. I knew Rhett would never
intentionally hurt me. He was too careful for those sorts of missteps. But Mateo and I were still
getting to know each other. We’ve been texting, and he’s sweet and flirty and funny. But this article
makes him out to be a party boy who craves attention. He claimed Rhett was the competitive one, but
he fully admitted to doing things to get a rise out of Rhett in the past. My instincts tell me that Mateo’s
interest has been genuine, but my instincts also trusted Darren at first, too.
“Sorry, that’s not fair. I’m just feeling bitter,” she mumbles, scratching at the magazine a little.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, concern for my friend temporarily pushing my doubt to the side.
Gabby shrugs. “Wes and I broke up over the weekend. Found out he was hooking up with girls
from a dating site.”
“Why didn’t you say anything! I would have been home in an instant,” I cry, scooting over and
wrapping my arms tightly around her.
She relaxes into my hold, and I hear a small sniffle. “And drag you away from Mr. Perfect,
and apparently his friend Mr. Flawless? I think not. If they make you happy, then you deserve that,
even if it’s not conventional,” she says, snuggling into my chest.
“But you’re my best girl, Gabs. I’d drop everything to help you, even if it was just to eat your
feelings and talk shit about your ex,” I say, rubbing her back.
“We can still do that, you know.” She laughs.
“I would hope so. No breakup is complete without ice cream and a roast.” I laugh back.
She untangles herself from my arms and gives me a long look. It’s soft, and I blush a little
under it.
“Damn it, Lyds. What did I do to deserve a friend like you?” she says with a shake of her
head.
I shrug. “You did chase down a purse snatcher that one time,” I comment.
She laughs and moves off to the kitchen. “Popcorn and Hot Fuzz, it is. Then we’re going to
paint our nails, braid our hair, and talk about how shitty of a fuck Wes was,” she throws over her
shoulder.
I laugh, glancing at my phone for a moment. The boys know that I’m having a girl’s night with
Gabby, but they still sometimes message me with no expectation of a reply. I don’t have anything from
them, but my finger hovers over my internet browser. The article said the breakup had been public, so
there must be other articles about Seth Douglas. The temptation to look pulls strong, but I put my
phone back down before I can give in.
“We’re working another wedding at Wickland House next week, did you see that?” Gabby
comments as the popcorn cooks.
“I did. If we don’t want to be stuck in the holding cell, I can ask Rhett if we can hang out in the
suite until clean up,” I say with a small smile.
“I’m sure Rhett would love to give his good girl whatever she asks for,” Gabby snickers,
pulling out the popcorn and dumping it in a bowl.
“I seriously regret telling you about that,” I moan, face heating.
“Too late. So do you want to hear about the time that Wes thought he was rocking my world,
but I couldn’t even tell he was inside of me?”
I cackle as she flops back down on the mattress, popcorn in hand. We snuggle together, turning
on the movie. I let her explain in excruciating detail about how truly awful her ex was in bed,
laughing along. But I couldn’t get thoughts of that other omega out of my head. Who was he to the
pack? Was he bonded to them? Did Rhett love him at one point? Did Mateo?
I do my best to shove the questions aside and enjoy my night with Gabby and manage fairly
well for the rest of the night. But when the time comes, and we shut off the lights and curl up together
to sleep, the spiral begins again. The logical part of my brain is shouting to just ask. I’d laid my
history bare for Rhett; the least he could do is tell me about this omega. But I didn’t want to come off
as the jealous, paranoid, territorial omega. It was in the past and I should let it go. If it was that
important, I’m sure that one of them would have brought it up.
Right?
 Twenty-Nine
Mateo

Lex: The flowers are ready. Can you swing by and pick them up for me? I’m going to be stuck
in meetings all day.
Me: Anything for you, princess.
Lex: Don’t act like seeing Lydia is a hardship.
Me: Jealous?
Lex: Of you? Never.

I laugh at the last message as I slip into the driver’s seat of my SUV. Lex and I always had a
love-to-hate-each-other relationship, and I take a weird sort of pride in knowing that I can get under
the ice queen’s skin. At this point, the venom between us is more a habit than anything truly malicious,
but winding her up is still one of my favorite hobbies.
I’d rather crawl naked on my belly over hot coals than admit it to her, but Lex is right about
one thing. Any chance I can get to see Lydia is one I would take without a second thought. She’s been
a little distant with me since that night at Freddy’s, but I don’t mind. She has her hands full with
whatever she and Rhett get up to. She’ll want a break soon enough, and I’ll be more than happy to
help with that.
I drive over to Old Town, bobbing my head to the upbeat music on the radio. It’s warm for
mid-May, and summer would be sweltering at this rate. I park in front of Grandmother Wila’s and take
a moment to walk a few paces down the sidewalk to check on the awning repair progress. Ever since
we’d fired Davis and his crew, work was going much faster, with far fewer complaints from the store
owners and their staff. The project will be wrapped within the month, and I’m eager to find my next
job.
I stroll back to the flower shop, pushing the door open and sighing in relief as the blessedly
cool air washes over me. The store smells like flowers, with a potent scent of freshly turned earth and
candied apples on everything. I only could detect the honey and vanilla under it all because it’s
practically engraved into me at this point. I look to the counter and see a pretty dark-skinned beta
manning the cash register. She stands up a little straighter, a smile on her face that doesn’t quite reach
her eyes as she greets me.
“I’m here to pick up an order. It might be under St. Clair, or Cooper. I’m not sure,” I start,
sliding my hands into my pockets.
“Yeah, no problem. Let me look,” she says, shaking herself after a moment of blatant staring.
Up close, the caramel-candy-apple scent is stronger, and the sweetness of it almost makes me
crinkle my nose. I’m sure that it’s delightful to the right person, but it’s a little too much for me. I
watch as she taps on the screen of the register, cocking her head to the side.
“Who did you speak with about the order? I’m not seeing it,” she drawls.
“It was me, Gabby. Sorry. I forgot to put it in the computer,” a familiar voice says as the
swinging door behind the counter opens.
A flood of lilac and lavender washes over me, and I release the breath I hadn’t realized I’d
been holding. Lydia smiles at me, shy and blushing. Gabby rolls her eyes, but her smile is fond now
as she looks at the omega. Lydia is wearing her apron over a plain T-shirt and jeans, her hair back in
a messy bun, but she still looks incredible. I watch her move to a stack of paper order forms and pull
one from near the top. I frown a little at the tension in her shoulders and the way she keeps glancing at
the door, like she’s expecting someone to walk in.
Both she and Gabby disappear into the back to get the flowers, and I ponder Lydia’s behavior.
Her scent isn’t abnormal, but it’s hard to tell when I’m surrounded by all the florals. I don’t know her
well enough yet to catch any tells, though I’m sure Rhett would have a field day with all of her non-
verbal cues. I pull my phone out and consider asking him to stop in to check on her when the pair
comes back out.
Gabby makes small talk with me while they wrap the flowers. Lydia worked her magic, the
bouquets full of lilacs and lavender, with a few purple and blue roses scattered among the greenery. I
keep trying to catch Lydia’s eye, but she’s stubbornly avoiding me. My heart kicks a little, unease
settling in my stomach like a lead weight. By the time we walk out to my car, my instincts are on high
alert. Gabby and Lydia load the flowers into my backseat and Gabby scampers back into the store, but
I catch her wink to Lydia on her way back. Lydia tries to follow right after, but I grab her elbow
before she can.
“Is everything okay?” I ask softly.
Lydia pulls away and wraps her arms around her middle, looking up and down the nearly
deserted street. My brow furrows as I watch her, confused.
“Yeah. I just… did you…” she starts, stumbling over her words.
“Hey. Talk to me, baby. What’s the matter?” I ask, taking her shoulders in my hands.
I try to pull her to me, but she steps away. I stare at her, eyes going a little wide. She looks
around again, and I do the same. The work crew is half a dozen stores away, and the only other
shopper is moving quickly from their car into a store across the street. It’s too hot for anyone to be
dining outside at the cafe next door, and it’s the middle of the day on a Thursday, so the after-work
rush hasn’t started.
“Did you see that article? About us at Freddy’s?” Lydia whispers.
My attention snaps back to her, stomach dropping. My palms break out into a cold sweat, and I
shove them in my pockets before she notices that they’re shaking. I had seen the article, mostly
because Lex’s public relations manager sent it to me. As a rule, I don’t actively seek out that sort of
trash, but Lex insists we shouldn’t be ignorant to what’s being said about us, good or bad. I had hoped
that Lydia wouldn’t find it, though.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t worry. It’s all speculation, and I’m sure something more interesting will
happen soon,” I chuckle, trying to be casual.
“Who’s Seth Douglas?” she asks, voice cold and steady.
My stomach plummets further and as I look down to gather my thoughts, I half expect to find it
lying on the sidewalk below me. Lydia’s tone is flat, no inflection for me to discern her feelings about
my ex, and I take a shaky breath. I look back up at her, and I see the moment she shuts down and locks
herself away. I’d hesitated too long. She takes another step back, lips a firm line.
“It’s complicated,” I say at last.
“I see,” she replies coolly.
“Baby, I just—I’m sorry you found out like this but—”
“It’s whatever. Just another omega, right?” Lydia snipes with a harsh roll of her eyes.
I run a hand through my hair, pulling a little. “It’s not like that. Can I talk to the pack first?
Please?”
“Why?” she demands, eyes falling into a glare.
I let out a defeated sigh, my shoulders falling as my hands drop to my sides. Her eyes are hard
chips of emeralds tearing me apart even as they flash with hurt. Everything I want to say feels like too
much and yet not enough. She crosses her arms over her chest, rocking back and popping out one of
her hips.
“This... Seth and us, there’s—it’s a long story. Please, Lydia. Give me time,” I whisper, my
voice cracking a little.
Her face softens even as her eyes grow even more distant. I try to reach out for her again, but
she takes another step away. My heart aches, and my hands shake as I ball them into fists at my sides.
“It’s fine. I have to get back to work,” Lydia says, a little too casually.
And before I can call her back, the door is slamming shut behind her.

∞∞∞

Me: Lydia saw the article.

Rhett: Fuck.
Lucas: How do you know she saw it?
Me: She said as much when I picked up Lex’s flowers.
Rhett: Fucking fuck.
Me: Yeah. She asked about Seth, too.
Lucas: What did you say?
Me: That it’s a long story, and I needed to check in with y’all before I tell it. And she wasn’t
pleased with that answer, let me tell you.
Rhett: We should tell her.
Lucas: No
Lex: No
Rhett: If our lifestyle hasn’t sent her screaming for the hills, this bullshit with Seth won’t.
Lex: Our sexual preferences and romantic habits are not on the same level as Seth. I
understand that you’re invested now, but we have to think long term.
Me: What’s that supposed to mean, Lex?
Lucas: She’s got a point. This isn’t something that we should dump on someone we’ve only
known for a few months.
Lex: It means that this is pack business, and if we have even the slightest suspicion that this
omega will run off after learning it, it may not be worth it.
Me: Her name is Lydia, not ‘this omega’
Rhett: Lydia has been through a lot, and it’s not my story to tell, but she will understand.
Maybe more than most people would.
Lex: From a legal perspective, I’m not even sure it’s something we can disclose right now.
Rhett: Are you serious, Lex? This is our personal lives, not a business merger.
Me: She’s going to think the worst if we don’t tell her something.
Lucas: Maybe that’s better than the truth.
 Me: No, it isn’t.
Rhett: No. She trusted me with her baggage. It’s not fair to hide ours.
Lex: What makes you so sure that she’s not going to bolt when she finds out?
Rhett: Her ex tried to force a bond on her. More than once.
Me: Can confirm. I’ve seen the marks. She was vague with the details, but she said it didn’t
take. Didn’t know about the multiple incidents though.
Rhett: She wasn’t vague with me. He’s a right bastard, and he put her through Hell.
Lucas: Fuck.
Lex: Holy shit.
Rhett: If you don’t trust her yet, fine, I get it. But I trust her. She’s not going to bolt.
Me: I do trust her. Just worried about how she’s going to take it, especially after how she
was earlier.
Rhett: Cross that bridge when we get there, not before. If we explain ourselves and why we
haven’t said anything before now, she’ll understand.
Lex: This is a pack decision, unanimous or bust.
Rhett: I vote to tell her. Obviously.
Lucas: My gut says she’s good. Tell her.
Me: I don’t want to lose her this soon, but she deserves to know what she’s getting into. Tell
her.
Rhett: Lex?
Lex: Yeah. I don’t want to be there when you do. But yeah. Tell her.

I lean back in the driver’s seat as the group chat goes quiet. I’d driven back to the pack house
and dropped off the flowers before heading out again. I’d finally stopped driving, parking in the lot of
a nature trail near the edge of town, staring off into the middle distance while the pack exchanged
rapid-fire messages.
The whole situation, from not giving Lydia a head’s up about the article to having to call a
vote to decide if she’s worthy to know about the skeleton in our closet, makes me sick to my stomach.
I agree with Rhett and would have just told Lydia in the middle of the street if I’d been able to. But
the situation with Seth doesn’t just affect me.
As if summoned by my thoughts, my phone starts to ring, Rhett’s name appearing on the screen
on my dash. I answer with my car’s Bluetooth, closing my eyes.
“I saw the flowers in the dining room. Where are you?” Rhett asks.
“Brighton Park. I needed to drive,” I answer dully.
“Do you want me to handle this?” Rhett’s question is neutral, no judgement or bias, which I
can’t help but appreciate.
“Is Lucas going to be there?” I ask back.
“He’s working the clopen at Alice’s. One of the bartenders is out, so he’s picking up the
slack,” Rhett replies.
“You want to do it tonight?” I splutter, opening my eyes in shock.
“I’d do it right now, but she doesn’t get off work for another few hours,” Rhett says with a
chuckle.
“If Lexi and Luc are out, then yeah, I’ll be there. She should hear it from the horse’s mouth
anyway,” I say with a heavy, resigned sigh.
 “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Assume you know what’s going to happen. If I’ve learned one thing about Lydia since
meeting her, it’s that she will always find a way to surprise you,” Rhett says fondly.
I chuckle once with little humor. “When and where?”
“We had plans to get Chinese and bring it back to Wickland House around six. Want your
usual?”
“Sounds good, man.”
“And Matty?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s going to be okay,” Rhett says emphatically.
I grunt a reply, but he doesn’t press. We end the call, and I look down at my phone. I half hope
to see a message from Lydia, but there’s nothing there. Gathering my wits, I pull out and head back
into the city.
 Thirty
Lydia

The drive to Wickland House with Rhett is tense and quiet. We pick up Chinese takeout from a hole-
in-the-wall restaurant on our way. The smell of it makes my mouth water and is almost enough to
block out Rhett’s old books and whiskey aura. He texted earlier and said that Mateo would join us
tonight, and the cowardly part of me had been tempted to fake illness to avoid him. I feel guilty for the
way I spoke to Mateo earlier, and I don’t relish the idea of seeing him again so soon and having to
explain my irrational territorial outburst.
We park out front, and my stomach flips when I see that Mateo’s SUV is already parked in his
spot. Rhett takes my hand as we cross the lobby, and I can’t help but look around nervously. It’s past
check-in, but there are half a dozen people scattered among the pillars and potted plants. They are all
absorbed in their own business and take no note of Rhett or me, but I haven’t been able to shake the
feeling of being watched ever since that photo was published. No one had approached me about it, so
I was more than likely in the clear. But I didn’t trust it to last.
Rhett notices when I visibly relax against the back wall once we’re inside the elevator and the
doors close. He looks at me curiously, but I don’t answer the question in his eyes. I’m sure he’ll ask
about it soon enough, regardless of whether I want him to.
The door opens into the suite, and I see Mateo lounging on the couch, watching a sports talk
show. He glances over when he hears the elevator ring and smiles before shutting off the TV.
“Excellent. I thought y’all’d never get here,” he says, springing to his feet.
He approaches me, opening his arms for a hug, but hesitates at the last second with a blush. I
close the distance and wrap my arms around his middle, and he relaxes at my touch, returning the
embrace.
“Sorry about earlier,” I mutter into his chest.
“No worries, baby,” he replies, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
We break apart and help Rhett lay out the food. Thankfully, the tension between us dissolves
quickly and banter picks up. The topics are light, but it’s still a novelty to be included in the dinner
conversation. Dishes are washed, and Rhett disappears for a moment, returning with a bottle of amber
liquor and three glasses. He slides one of the balcony doors open and nods for Mateo and me to
follow. He pours a generous serving in each glass before passing them around. We sit around a small
metal table, looking out over the city in comfortable silence while we sip the very good bourbon.
“So, I’ve been told you saw that article about you and Mat?” Rhett starts.
I tense for a moment before taking a slow sip. “We don’t have to talk about that,” I mumble.
Mateo sighs. “No, we do. You trust us enough to share your past. It’s only fair we should be
honest when you ask about ours.”
I nod before shifting in my seat. I tuck one leg under me, bending the other to my chest and
wrapping my arm around it. I sit quietly for a minute while Rhett and Mateo share a look, speaking
without words. Mateo nods, and Rhett takes another drink before turning to me.
“Seth Douglas is our omega,” he starts.
I blink, my heart squeezing in my chest. “‘Is’? Present tense?” I ask slowly.
 “Not for lack of trying,” Mateo says and laughs darkly.
“I don’t understand,” I mutter, looking back at Rhett.
“I told you I’d once been involved with another omega’s heat. It was Seth’s,” Rhett says.
“Why haven’t I met him?” I try to keep the shaking from my voice.
“Because he’s a manipulative asshole and isn’t part of this pack, regardless of the bite marks
on his skin,” Mateo spits before downing the rest of his bourbon.
My mouth pulls down in a frown. “I’m missing something. You say he’s your omega, but he’s
not part of the pack?”
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let me start over,” Rhett says, speaking quickly with a
shake of his head.
I settle back, willing my heart rate to slow. I owe them the benefit of the doubt. Rhett had
given me that much when I told him my sorry tale. I wipe any expression off my face and nod for Rhett
to continue. He gives me a searching look before letting out a long sigh.
“We met Seth around the same time as Lucas. We’d just opened The Valencia and were hiring
staff for the restaurant. Luc obviously caught my attention, between his impressive resume, and his…
other attractive qualities. Seth applied for a bartending position.”
“Bartending is a weird job for an omega,” I mutter.
Most omegas I’ve met prefer something a bit more controlled than a bar for employment.
Introverted or extroverted really didn’t matter, because it comes down to risk management. It could be
dangerous to mix alphas and alcohol in the best of situations, and being in a position where you can’t
easily escape unwanted attention is usually enough to deter omegas.
Mateo snorts. “That should have been our first red flag.”
“He was really affable, almost hypnotic for an omega, and honestly, if he’d been content with
bartending, we wouldn’t have had a problem. But his ambition to move up the hierarchy was clear,
and only got worse once he caught sight of Lex and Mateo,” Rhett continues, looking into his glass as
he swirls it.
“That’s a very generous way of putting it, Rhett. He basically used a combination of his
pheromones and charisma to turn himself into the omega of our dreams. He lied over and over,
spinning this tragic story of an omega who’d tried and tried to find a pack, but to no avail. And Lex
and I bought it hook, line, and sinker,” Mateo spits, knuckles white on his glass.
I swallow my snarl, my fingers gripping my leg hard. It’s within an omega’s power to use their
natural allure to bring in alphas, but I have always considered it distasteful and dishonest to do it, not
to mention dangerous. There were stories of omegas who would reel in an alpha, only to find out too
late that they’d bitten off more than they could chew. I’d never heard of a male omega doing it, but I
suppose evil comes in all shapes and sizes.
“Lucas and I obviously hit it off right away, and Seth tried to pull his act on me, but was quick
to back off. Lucas saw right through the bullshit and staked his claim on me. Lucas was a natural fit
for the pack: driven, talented, loyal. We really tried with Seth, but it was impossible to keep up with
the changing rules and moving goalposts. After a while, we just grew comfortable with him existing
with the pack, but not as part of the pack. I think Seth felt threatened by Lucas and how taken we all
were with him, and I have my suspicions that he overheard a discussion I had with Luc about the
potential for a bond. So, Seth pulled his trump card. He stopped taking his suppressants and went into
a full-blown heat,” Rhett says, ending in a low growl.
“It was the worst thing I’ve ever been through. One day, we came home and the suite we were
staying in stunk to high heaven of omega pheromones. I’d never felt so out of control, and it’s a small
wonder we didn’t kill each other,” Mateo picks up, pouring himself another healthy glass and then
downing half of it in one pull.
“What do you mean, kill each other?” I question, heart skipping a beat.
“He caught all of us unaware, and it triggered mine and Mateo’s rut. One of the side effects of
Lex’s birth control is that it prevents her from going into a full rutting frenzy, but even she was ready
to draw blood. It was basically a street fight to get to him and stake our claim. We are very lucky that
Lucas was there to prevent any serious damage,” Rhett explains.
I nod, feeling the blood drain from my face even as my stomach twists. I might have been
raised with twisted ideas of what it means to be an omega, but intentionally triggering not one, but
three, alpha ruts isn’t something I’d ever consider doing.
“Once the dust settled, and we came out of it, the damage was done. Seth was bonded,” Rhett
says, voice a low rumble.
“With who?” I rasp, my mouth suddenly very sour.
“He claimed all of us at the time, but me and Lex are the only ones who’ve ever felt the
bond.” Mateo sighs.
“I’ve never felt anything, and based on testing, we’ve confirmed that I have no bond with Seth
Douglas,” Rhett interjects.
“Can you feel him now?” I whisper, a chill crawling over my skin.
Mateo shakes his head. “We found a drug, similar to heat suppressants, that limits the effects
of the bond. It blocks the emotional manipulation and location sensing primarily, but it keeps us from
feeling the pull to be near him, too. They usually give it to omegas escaping abusive alphas, but we
were able to petition the court to allow us to take it while we work out a settlement,” Mateo drones,
looking at the tabletop with no small amount of heat.
“Why can’t you just reject the bond? Even if he’s still pining after you, if you disavow him…”
I trail off, voice dying as Mateo shakes his head again.
“Because we had it tested at a clinic, the government is now involved. Seth Douglas is, in the
eyes of the law, Mat and Lex’s omega,” Rhett says heavily.
I nod solemnly, chewing on my bottom lip. Once a bond is verified and on the record, the
legal rights for omegas are clear and inflexible. They are supposed to protect omegas from predatory
alphas, but now I can see how they could cut both ways. Omegas are under the protection of any alpha
with whom they share a bond, and the omega can hold the alpha legally liable if something happens to
them. Omegas are within their rights to have more than one bonded alpha, but if they are the first
omega that an alpha bonds, they get the right of first refusal for all future bonds that the alpha may
want to make. It’s supposed to stop predatory alphas from collecting omegas into a personal harem.
But hearing how one omega is using that technicality to hold an entire pack hostage unsettles me more
deeply than I anticipated.
“But then why did the article talk about Seth like he was your ex?” I ask as the thought occurs
to me.
“Our pack dynamic has always been outside the norm, with all of us being one shade of queer
or another, and we know that most people in the business and real estate worlds can be less than
open-minded. Seth and Mateo were always the public face of the relationship, even if Lex was also
his partner behind closed doors,” Rhett says, picking his words carefully.
“About a year ago, I reached the end of my rope. I couldn’t keep up with the farce. We paid
him a small ransom, and he agreed we could end our public relationship. We did not make the bond
public, so as far as anyone knows, it was just a garden variety break up,” Mateo cuts in.
 “What is he possibly getting out of this? If you’re taking blockers to stop the emotional
connection, and he’s not getting the status of being associated with the pack—”
Mateo lets out a dark chuckle, holding up his hand and rubbing the tips of his fingers and
thumb together. A fresh rush of anger fills my gut, my teeth grinding as I try to keep the colorful
expletives on the tip of my tongue at bay.
“His compensation for not being allowed to live with us as a pack is a generous monthly
stipend to cover living expenses. With an added bonus for his discretion,” Rhett snaps bitterly.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine…” I fall silent as I consider everything they’ve told me.
“It’s not your fault, love. It’s a shit situation, no matter which way you slice it,” Rhett
murmurs.
“We’re working on a settlement, but it’s slow going. We can’t reject the bond outright,
because Seth knows too much, and we can’t risk our business ties over a petty omega who can’t take
no for an answer. If it weren’t for the right of first refusal, we wouldn’t even be bothered,” Mateo
grumbles.
“And don’t think that has to do with you, Lydia. We all have had to put our lives on hold
because of this and haven’t been able to do anything without having to look over our shoulders.
Lucas has been with us for three years, but we can’t form a bond with him until we clear up this
situation with Seth. And…” Rhett trails off, looking at me with apologetic eyes.
“And I wouldn’t be able to bond with any of you until the original bond is severed, unless I
got his permission,” I finish, my shoulders slumping.
“It’s way too early to talk about taking that step, but you deserve to know what sort of mess
you’re hitching your wagon to, especially after everything you’ve been through,” Rhett implores.
I nod, but my mind still turns over the information. I’d given up on finding anyone that I even
wanted to consider bonding with, but ever since meeting Rhett and Mateo, and frankly this entire
pack, I can admit to daydreaming of what a future would be like with them. How I would fit into their
lives, and them into mine. I hadn’t realized that I even wanted a bond, but now that the option is off
the table, I can’t deny the disappointment settling over me. I didn’t want to give them up, but if they
haven’t figured out how to solve this over the last three years, what’s to say they’ll be able to get it
done now?
“Would you have told me? If the article hadn’t come out?” I ask quietly.
Mateo and Rhett share a look, and my heart dips a little. I look down at my bourbon, letdown
filling my chest like boiling acid.
“Yes. I would have. I’ll admit to being a little selfish and not wanting to ruin this before it had
a chance. But yes.”
I look up at Mateo’s words, his soft brown eyes meeting mine. His face is pulled into tense
lines, and I can scent the trace of burning grass under his usual citrus and sugar. My heart lurches,
sensing his trepidation and distress. I shift forward, setting down my glass and taking his hand. It’s
cold, and I hold tight as he automatically weaves his fingers through mine.
“This has ruined nothing, Mateo. I know what it feels like to be trapped. To feel like there’s
no way out. I’ve been there. I’m not mad or upset. I’m grateful you trust me enough to tell me,” I push,
running my thumb along the back of his hand.
Mateo visibly relaxes, squeezing my hand back before letting his head drop with an exhale. I
look at Rhett and smile a little at the warmth of his gaze. He nods, just the slightest dip of his chin, but
it still makes my heart skip a beat.
“Is the article going to be a problem? Should I try to avoid being out in public with any of
y’all for the time being?”
“I don’t think so. But we’ll see,” Rhett says, an expertly crafted non-answer.
I frown, shoulders slumping.
“No, none of that. I can see the wheels of guilt turning in your head already. I’m not ashamed
to be seen with you, and I’ll be damned if Seth fucking Douglas is going to keep me from taking my
girl out whenever I please,” Mateo growls.
“Your girl?” I throw back with a smirk.
“Our girl,” Rhett says firmly.
Mateo rolls his eyes. “Fine. Our girl. But only because it’s you, prick.”
I giggle, bringing Mateo’s hand to my lips and kissing the knuckles gently. “Look at you,
learning to share.”
“Do you want to see how good I am at sharing, baby?”
I sit up a little at the heat in his voice. I snap my gaze to Rhett, his scent shifting to whiskey-
tinted arousal. His eyes are bright in the light of the setting sun, and I shiver as they rake over me.
“Do you want me to go?” he asks softly.
“No. I want you. Both of you.”
 Thirty-One
Rhett

Lydia’s breathy whisper hangs in the air between us for several heartbeats, and I feel my body
straightening as her scent floats toward me, full of rain and honey. Mateo’s growl breaks the fragile
tension, and he pulls her forward by their connected hands. She yelps at the sudden jolt, but lets
Mateo settle her on his lap, straddling him. Mateo’s hands fist in her silky hair, and he brings her lips
crashing down to his.
I sit back in my chair, my legs splayed wide as I admire the way they move together. Their
kiss is almost frantic, her hands roaming feely over his shoulders and arms while her hips rock
against his. My hand drifts to my cock, and I stroke the already hard length through the soft material of
my slacks. Lydia throws her head back with a gasp, Mateo’s mouth moving down her neck. Her half-
lidded eyes slide to me, her delectable mouth parted slightly as she pants and moans softly. I purr
deep in my chest, swallowing the last of my bourbon with my eyes still locked with hers. Her little
whines send sparks along my spine, her scent mixing with Mateo’s until the air is heavy with ozone
and rain, a storm of desire that makes my head spin. I set my glass down on the table with deliberate
gentleness, trying to keep my hands steady.
“Bedroom. Now.”
My words come out through gritted teeth, and I get to my feet, prowling over to them. Mateo’s
mouth is still on Lydia’s skin, teeth scraping along her collarbones with his tongue following. Lydia
looks up at me, torn. Mateo has the balls to laugh.
“But we’re having such fun out here, aren’t we, baby?” he chuckles.
I roll my eyes at his flippant tone. If it were up to him, we’d fuck on the balcony, but
exhibitionism isn’t one of my kinks. I’ll share Lydia with Mateo, but I don’t want anyone else to hear
the way we make her scream for us. My hand darts forward, seizing a handful of Mateo’s hair and
cranking his head back away from Lydia. Mateo smirks up at me, but his eyes flash with heat.
“Ooo harder, Daddy,” Mateo snarks, making Lydia giggle.
“Go get ready for us, love. We’ll be right behind you,” I say, not taking my eyes off Mateo’s.
I hear Lydia mutter a brief “yes, sir” before climbing off Mateo’s lap and scampering toward
the sliding door to Mateo’s room. I wait until I hear the door close before I release Mateo with a
shove.
“I’m not going to let you top me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he starts, rubbing the back of
his head.
“Didn’t want to. Just want to make sure you know her safe words and limits,” I start, but
Mateo cuts me off with a scoff.
“Traffic lights, and she doesn’t want us degrading her. I didn’t have an hour-long pre-planning
meeting before we fucked, but I did ask that much,” he says, getting to his feet.
He starts to move off, but I grab his arm, pulling him back around to face me. His look of
impatient annoyance makes me sigh, but I’d rather not do this in front of Lydia so we can just focus on
her.
“You got your results back? Lydia’s came back negative the other day, and I’m good,” I ask,
speaking quickly.
Mateo nods. “All good and cootie free. You done being a mother hen? She’s going to think we
started without her if we don’t get in there.”
I let go of his arm and shove him a little with a smirk. “I’ll stop being a mother hen the day
you stop being a chicken shit.”
“Says the bastard who took two months to sleep with our sexy fucking omega,” Mateo calls
over his shoulder as he lopes away.
I roll my eyes but follow after him. I love Mateo, but I wonder why, not for the first time, if I
need to kick his ass again. Mateo opens the door and steps inside, and when I cross the threshold, I
nearly run into his back. He’s frozen, staring at the goddess kneeling on his bed, every inch of her
golden skin on display. We’d been practicing positions, and she’s in a perfect wait pose. She’s sitting
back on her heels, knees splayed wide to expose the patch of glistening curls at the apex of her thigh.
Her hands are resting palms up on her thighs, shoulders back and relaxed, head ever so slightly
bowed with her eyes down.
“You might be onto something with that kinky shit,” Mateo breathes, stepping aside so I can
finish entering and close the door.
I chuckle under my breath. If only he knew half of the things I want to do with Lydia, how far I
want to push her submission just to see the blissful peace of subspace on her face.
“Have you ever done anything like this before, love? Taken two men at the same time?” I ask,
stalking forward with my hands in my pockets.
Lydia’s blush creeps down her face and over her chest, which rises and falls rapidly as I
approach. Her scent fills every corner of the room, and I have to stop myself from finding my cock
through the lining of my slacks and touching it.
“No, sir. I—my ex—”
“I didn’t ask for the why, little one,” I correct huskily.
We’ve been working on Lydia’s confidence when she answers, trying to get her to give a
response without explaining herself, especially when it comes to her limits and her past. She forgets
sometimes, but it’s not something I’m going to issue a punishment for. Not at this point in our dynamic.
She swallows at the stern edge to my voice but doesn’t apologize.
“Have you ever had a man fuck your ass before, baby?” Mateo asks, moving toward the chairs
off to the side of the bed.
Lydia’s blush fades a little, and I see her shiver. She doesn’t answer right away, and I can see
how her jaw tightens, eyes going distant. Her scent shifts for a moment, a pulse of burnt sugar that I
only pick up because I’m so close. It’s enough for me to know that she has, but it was one of those
things she didn’t consent to. And it tells me that Lydia hasn’t told Mateo about her abuse, or at least
not enough to feel comfortable giving an answer.
“We’ll do that next time. For today, I think we can put on a little show for Mateo, hmm?” I say,
lightening my tone to be almost playful.
Lydia’s shoulders relax a fraction of an inch, and her scent evens out again. Mateo moves a
chair to face Lydia before stepping up and putting two fingers under her chin to raise her eyes to meet
his. There’s a tension in her face, like she’s bracing herself for something. I watch closely, body
tightening.
“Do you want that, baby? Do you want Rhett to make you feel good while I watch?” Mateo
whispers, voice almost tender.
Lydia’s eyes brighten, and she nods eagerly. “Yes, sir.”
 Mateo shakes his head and chuckles, a dark and husky sound. His hand twists, and I suck in a
sharp breath with Lydia as his hand closes around her throat. She doesn’t move away, and I see her
pupils expand at the possessive touch. The hungry look in her eyes as she stares up into his face is the
only thing that stops me from shoving him away.
“You call me by my name when you’re in my bed,” Mateo growls.
Lydia nods. “Yes, Mateo,” she whispers reverently.
Mateo leans down and kisses her roughly before pulling back and letting go. He moves back
to his chair, throwing himself down with a sigh. His hand immediately finds his crotch, stroking
himself through his jeans. I suppress the urge to shake my head and roll my eyes. Mateo may claim not
to be kinky, but he’s a voyeur, and apparently likes to give orders and put his hands on Lydia’s throat.
My eyes go back to her and find her back in her ready position. She’s a natural submissive,
and it’s only taken a little prompting, long discussions of different games and kinks, and a few more
scenes to get her there. That she’s willing to let me lead her down this path of depravity warms my
heart with an emotion I don’t dare name.
I loosen my tie, sliding the silk out from under my collar as I round the bed, toeing off my
shoes then climbing up to settle behind her. I brush my lips along the scar on her left shoulder blade,
and her little shiver makes me smile. I bring my hands around to rest on her thighs beside hers, my tie
draped over one.
“Safe words,” I breathe in her ear.
“Red to stop, yellow to slow down, green is good, sir,” Lydia responds without hesitation.
“Is a blindfold okay?” I ask, pulling her hair away from her neck.
She nods, her little exhale shaky.
“Good girl,” I purr, nipping at the sensitive spot behind her ear.
She squeaks and squirms but doesn’t try to move away as I loop the navy blue silk over her
eyes, securing it tightly. I admire the way the color contrasts with her golden-brown hair, the creamy
gold of her skin, and I sigh in content. My hands trail down her shoulders, fingers brushing feather
light along her arms, up the inside of her thighs, and finally taking a breast in each of my hands. She
moans softly as I knead them between my fingers, head falling back to rest on my shoulder.
“You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever had the pleasure of touching, Lydia. So soft, just right
to fill my hands. Such sensitive nipples,” I say, raising my voice ever so slightly to ensure Mateo can
hear me.
He groans, and I hear the sound of fabric hitting the floor at the edge of my attention, but most
of my focus stays with Lydia. I roll and tweak her rosy nipples until they’re stiff and she’s panting.
Taking them between my thumb and forefinger, I pinch and tug away from her body, making her back
arch when they stretch to her limit. I feel her hand clamp on my thigh, and I allow it, knowing she
needs to stay grounded when that spike of pain mixes with her pleasure. I release the tension,
massaging the hurt away with firm fingers.
“Are you wet for me?” I ask mildly, letting one of my hands trail slowly down her stomach but
stopping shy of curls.
Lydia nods, lifting her lips as she tries to get my hand to move. I growl and bring my hand
down sharply on the inside of her thigh. She bucks and yelps, her shuddering gasp makes me throb.
She settles back onto her heels, body quivering beneath me.
“Yes, sir. I’m…” she starts, breaking off as she swallows hard.
“Words, sweet girl. Use your words,” I prompt, my voice lilting almost to sing-song.
“Fucking tease. Show me how wet you are, baby girl,” Mateo interjects.
 Lydia nods, biting her bottom lip slightly. Her hand moves slowly, as if she’s expecting me to
stop her. When I don’t, her lithe fingers slip between her thighs, and I feel her shudder at her own
touch. She doesn’t linger, bringing her hand up, two fingers glistening in the dying sunlight streaming
through the glass door. Mateo and I groan in unison, and the scent of rain and earth and vanilla crashes
over me. I seize her wrist with one hand, the other delving to her dripping slit. I take her fingers in my
mouth, licking them clean of the sweet cream.
“Your pussy is my favorite thing to eat, so sweet and warm,” Mateo praises.
I hear the snap of a cap, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him stroking lube down his
length. He’s shed his clothes, and openly strokes his cock with his eyes fixed on where my hand
disappears into Lydia. My fingers work a slow and deep rhythm, hitting her sweet spot with each curl
of my finger. She moans and whines, and I feel how she clenches and drips over me as the sounds of
Mateo’s strokes get louder and faster.
“Are you going to come for us, sweet girl? Going to come all over my hand like a good girl?”
I pant, rolling my hips against the swell of her ass, letting her feel how hard she’s made me.
“Fuck her, Rhett. I want to watch her come on your cock,” Mateo begs, nearly breathless.
“Please, sir, I need your cock,” Lydia echoes, her body shaking as she holds herself on the
edge of climax.
I don’t need telling twice. I free my throbbing cock with a few deft movements, my hand still
working Lydia to keep her poised on the brink. I bend her forward slightly, withdrawing my hand only
long enough to line up the tip of my cock with her perfect pussy. I thrust forward with one smooth roll
of my hips, letting my head fall back as I growl through gritted teeth. She shouts a curse, my name
falling from her lips, but I don’t care. Being inside of her, feeling the warm, tight heat of her around
me is pure bliss. I thrust slowly, letting her adjust to the stretch before I pick up the pace. I grip her
hips with bruising fingers, rocking her back hard enough that she gasps with each one.
I open my eyes and nearly jump when I find Mateo standing at the edge of the bed, cock jutting
out from his body and standing nearly vertical. He’s a specimen of an alpha, lean muscle with a trim
waist and broad shoulders, and his cock is no exception. He rips the blindfold from Lydia’s face, and
steps onto the mattress. There’s enough space for him to position himself directly in front of us, and he
takes Lydia’s chin in a hard grip, his other hand tilting his cock toward her mouth.
Lydia moans, not needing any instruction before she wraps her plump lips around the head of
his cock. I slow my thrusts, setting a steadier pace to let her focus for a moment on Mateo. His hand
twitches toward her hair, but I slap it away before he can finish the movement. His eyes look to me in
question, but I shake my head. This is hardly the time to explain, especially once Lydia starts thrusting
back onto me, taking over the pace in my distraction.
“That’s right, little one. Make yourself come on my cock,” I purr, following her lead.
I go still and she moans, her hips moving faster as she chases her orgasm. One of her hands
comes up to grip the base of Mateo’s cock, working in tandem with her mouth to make him forget all
about his question. Her moans get higher and louder, and I revel in the feel of her slick channel as she
fucks herself down onto me, lost in the race to orgasm.
I run my hand up her spine, massaging her tight muscles and I nearly lose myself in the feel of
her. She’s perfect, so beautiful and adventurous and kind and everything that we didn’t know we
needed. My breath rushes from my chest, her orgasm making her shout around Mateo’s thick length,
and I feel her gush over my slacks.
“I need to be inside of you. I’m not going to last much longer. Please,” Mateo gasps.
Lydia pulls away from him and looks back to me. The glassy need in her eyes, the cherry red
flush of her face, everything about the wanton angel beneath me makes my heart clench. I pick up my
pace again, and Lydia whines.
“Please,” she breathes, high and desperate.
My orgasm hits me out of nowhere, crashing down my spine and across every inch of my skin.
I thrust forward into her, spurting deep as I can feel my heartbeat in my scalp and down to my toes.
When I’m spent, I collapse back, allowing Mateo to lean down and scoop Lydia up. He throws her to
the bed, barely letting her head hit the pillows before he’s pounding into her.
I can hear him rattling off a string of filth, but my eyes stay on Lydia’s face. Her eyes are
closed, and I know she’s lost in a sea of endorphins. She bites her lower lip, her groan shaky as she
comes again. She practically glows from the pleasure coursing through her veins, and I’ve never seen
anything more exquisite.
Mateo comes with a shout and goes still, resting on his forearms as he pants. The room smells
like lemons and ozone and lilacs and sex, and I breathe deep. I want to bottle this scent, to keep this a
slice of this moment forever. But I settle on memorizing the way Lydia’s hands look as they stroke up
and down Mateo’s back, the serene smile I see for a moment before she buries her face in the crook of
his neck.
I get up and shed my clothes at last, dashing into the bathroom to get a damp washcloth. By the
time I get back, Lydia is turned on her side, Mateo spooned against her back and half asleep. I slip
into bed in front of her, and she moans as I clean her up as much as I can with Mateo clinging to her
like a barnacle.
“You okay?” Lydia asks softly, looking up into my face with a little smile.
“Great, thanks,” Mateo mutters, voice muffled against Lydia’s back.
Lydia laughs, pinching Mateo’s arm to get him to loosen up enough to allow me into the cuddle
pile. Mateo pokes her ribs, making her squeal with laughter. I smile at the pair, my heart full to
bursting with…
It hits me like a ton of bricks, and I stare down at Lydia as she snuggles into my chest. I can
see it clearly in my mind’s eye, lazy Sunday afternoons with Lydia, Mateo, and me, or even Lydia and
Lucas and me curling in bed basking in the afterglow. Waking up together, her face the first thing I see.
I close my eyes and let the emotions crash down over me.
I love her.
And nothing has ever felt more right.
 Thirty-Two
Lydia

Clearing the air between Rhett, Mateo, and me had been the best possible thing for our relationship.
Their reasons for keeping the secret were completely understandable now that I knew the entire story,
and it helped us move into a much better place together. I opened up to Mateo about Darren and was
pleased, but not entirely surprised, when he asked Rhett to let him know whenever he wanted help
hiding the body. True friendship, through and through.
I saw little of Alexandra after I learned about her involvement with Seth, and I didn’t have any
trouble admitting that it bothered me that she was keeping away. I spent time with Rhett and Mateo,
and even Lucas when he wasn’t working, but something always came up when Rhett would propose
another family dinner or outing. Whenever we did cross paths, our interactions were cordial, but our
conversation never went deeper than small talk. Lucas assured me it wasn’t personal, but it didn’t
stop me from feeling like it was.
Rhett and Jason finally met via video call, and they got on like a house on fire. Jason works
for my father’s general contracting business, and their shared interest in building and architecture
helped to smooth the awkwardness of a first-time meeting. They exchanged information by the end of
the call, and it secretly relieved me to know that someone else had a way to get in touch with my
brother should something bad happen to me. Jason messaged me privately after the call, and admitted
that Rhett was worth keeping around, even if he’s an alpha.
We didn’t tell Jason about my relationship with Mateo or Rhett’s relationship with Lucas,
mostly to avoid the inevitable judgement. Jason and I had been raised in a borderline fundamentalist
Christian cult, and the dogma was pretty clear on the “proper” structure and purpose of the dynamics.
Alphas were meant to be the leaders, with their omega serving them and providing a home for the
children they made, and betas were the balance between them. There’s a lot of contradictory scripture
about whether sex outside of a bond or marriage is truly acceptable in the eyes of the Sky Daddy, but
an alpha taking a beta as a bond mate was supposed to be a last resort if there weren’t any omegas to
be had, and the beta was most definitely not supposed to be of the same sex. An omega was supposed
to find one alpha to pledge themself to, with other alphas being allowed to bond if the prime alpha
allowed it for the purposes of breeding. I’d spent a lot of time deconstructing those beliefs from my
head, but I’d only been able to do that because I got away from the constant barrage of preaching.
Jason wasn’t nearly as indoctrinated as my parents thought he was, but I didn’t feel comfortable
enough to trust that he wouldn’t immediately withdraw his good opinion of my choice in a partner if
he knew the whole truth.
Mateo didn’t take offense at the decision not to tell my brother, even if it made me feel guilty.
To assuage that internalized guilt, I spent more time with Mateo than I had before. He liked to go out,
and it made me nervous at first, but after we went out for dinner a few times and it went unreported, I
stopped feeling paranoid and could finally enjoy the time Mateo spent with me. Everton is a
fascinating place with a rich history of boom and bust, and we explored the city together, as well as
the surrounding area. He showed me more of his hidden gems, like a corner store that made the best
barbeque I’ve ever tasted, where to find the best coffee, and even a private beach on a nearby lake.
There were so many things that I didn’t even know existed, and finding them with Mateo was an
adventure every time.
The first weekend of June comes with a bittersweet feeling in my heart. It was supposed to be
the weekend of Jason’s visit, and I miss seeing his face and scent even though we talk almost every
other day. It’s also bittersweet because the awning repair project is finally complete. The city had a
small ceremony to thank the St. Clair Foundation for their work in preserving the history of Everton,
but overall, it was a rather boring and anticlimactic finish to something that changed my life. Despite
the reassurances from both Rhett and Mateo that nothing would change between us, it still made me a
little sad to know that Mateo wouldn’t have an excuse to just hang out with Gabby and me while we
work under the pretense of supervising the repairs.
Wila’s closes early on the first Friday after the official end to the project, as the B.O.A. is
having a meeting. Wila complains the whole time we go through closing duties, but it’s half-hearted.
Once the shop is closed, I check my phone as I walk out to my car.

Rhett: I’m so sorry, but I’m going to be late. The tour ran over, and I still have to stop over
at Alice’s.
Me: No worries. We’re still meeting at The Valencia?
Rhett: Yes, ma’am. Lucas is working the bar there tonight, so he can keep you company
while you wait.
Me: Didn’t he just work at that conference at Wickland House this morning?
Rhett: One of the bartenders is out sick and he’s picking up the slack.
Me: Has he never heard of delegating? He doesn’t have to do everything himself.
Rhett: From your lips to God’s ears, my love. I’ll see you soon.

I sigh as I slide into the driver’s seat and turn on the car before cranking the AC as high as it’ll
go. Lucas needs to slow down before he works himself into an early grave. I resolve to talk some
sense into him as I pull out of the back lot and head uptown toward The Valencia.
They originally built the hotel in the forties, and it had its heyday in the late sixties into the
early eighties. Rhett told me how the building fell into disrepair as the cost of maintaining such a
large hotel exceeded the profits when cheaper, more modern hotels sprung up. By the end of the
twentieth century, it was abandoned and stood empty for years and was going to be demolished. Until,
that is, the St. Clair Foundation got involved. Rhett did his own brand of digging and stumbled upon
an old photo of Jimmy Carter holding a campaign event at the hotel during his congressional run. Just
like that, it was declared a historical landmark and the St. Clair Foundation was given all the grant
money they needed to return it to its former glory.
Now the hotel shines like new, its mid-century modern design harkening back to a golden age
long past. The exterior of the sixteen-story building is smooth gray concrete with angular framing and
balconies. The dark wood-paneled walls of the lobby accent the bold geometric carpet and rounded
lighting and furniture, with colors and patterns that would be awful on their own, but somehow fit
together perfectly. As I walk past the front desk, I smile at the gaggle of tourists in the room’s corner,
gawking over the display of photos and memorabilia honoring Jimmy Carter with the photo that saved
this building in the central place of honor. The bar is similarly furnished and decorated, with tables
surrounded by curving, colorful chairs and hanging spherical pendant lights.
I spot Lucas at the bar, and his genial smile makes my stomach do a pleasant little flip. I slide
onto a stool at the end of the bar facing the door, leaning forward onto the shiny counter. There’s a
pleasant background hum of conversation, as well as some instrumental music from hidden speakers.
Lucas lopes down to me, tossing a towel over one shoulder. He’s wearing a black button down with
the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his toned forearms flex as he leans in toward me.
“Come here often?” he drawls, lips twisted in an ironic smolder.
I chuckle and shake my head. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”
“Only if you want to be weird about it. Though it wouldn’t be the weirdest come on I’ve ever
gotten.” Lucas laughs back, starting to mix a drink.
“Don’t leave me in suspense,” I say, smiling excitedly.
Lucas laughs to himself as he shakes the cocktail with practiced ease. The way his muscles
move under his shirt makes my mouth water, and I have to swallow before I actually start drooling.
“I once had an eighty-six-year-old woman ask me if I knew a priest. When I asked why, she
told me she was looking at her ninth husband but her go-to guy was in Aruba and she didn’t want me
to get away before he came back,” he says, pouring the drink into a highball glass, adding a lime
wedge, and sliding it across the bar toward me.
“I have so many questions. What’s in this?” I ask, stirring the drink a little.
“Gin. I did, too, but after I told her I didn’t know a priest, she walked away before I could
ask,” Lucas comments, nodding to my drink.
I was his unofficial cocktail taster for drinks involving gin, as he refuses to drink liquor that
tastes like “Christmas divorce” when there are better options. I take a small sip and hum with delight
at the refreshing and floral drink. We banter back and forth for a while until we decide that the
woman, who we named Doris, had killed her eight previous husbands after they failed to satisfy her
voracious sexual appetite. Her priest was on the run after the last one, trying to find Jesus again.
Lucas moves off to make some drinks for a server and I sip my cocktail while looking around.
The restaurant is filling up, and the conversational drone gets a little louder. I check my phone and
frown. Rhett hadn’t said anything about when exactly he’d be done, and I can’t help the tickle of
worry in the back of my head. I sigh before placing my phone face down next to my elbow. If
something was truly wrong, Rhett would tell me.
As I’m scanning the room again, I freeze when my eyes find a familiar beautiful face in the
lobby. Alexandra is smiling at a man in a suit, nodding along as he talks. She shakes his hand after a
moment and watches as he walks out of the doors. The moment he’s out of sight, her smile fades and
she rolls her shoulders. I want to look away, but before I can, her eyes swing to mine, and I’m caught.
I blush and give her a small smile, but I don’t miss the tension in her shoulders as she looks back at
me. There’s a pang of hurt in my chest at the reluctance in her face, the way she chews her bottom lip
even if she doesn’t look away from me.
“Oh, good. She’s finally out of that stupid meeting,” Lucas says, suddenly appearing next to
me.
I jump at the sound of his voice and snap my head around in time to see him waving. I look
back to Alexandra with wide, slightly panicked eyes and see her smiling a little. I see her shoulders
lift and fall as she takes a deep breath before striding with purpose across the restaurant toward us.
“I thought he’d never leave. Want your usual?” Lucas asks when she’s close enough.
“Please,” Alexandra answers emphatically as she gracefully slides onto the stool beside me.
I look down at my drink, scrambling to find something to say. After only interacting with her in
passing for the last few weeks, I forgot how potent her presence is. Simply by being in a room, she
demands attention. Her posture is perfect as she perches on the stool, one toned leg crossed over the
other. She’s wearing a sleek charcoal gray dress today with a silver statement necklace and matching
bangle. Her hair is back in a low bun, accentuating the flowing lines of her jaw. Her scent drapes
over me like a blanket, fermented grapes and citrus and spice mixing to make my spine straighten and
the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Lucas sets a martini glass of clear liquor in front of her, and she takes a generous drink before
shaking her head.
“How was ol’ Dickie, then?” Lucas prompts with a snort.
Alexandra rolls her eyes. “Richard is well, and as nosy as ever. He should have enough intel
to give a satisfactory report, both from what I told him and what he dug up behind my back.”
“He’s a spy?” I ask quietly, looking around.
Alexandra looks at me then with a gently patronizing smile. “Of a sort. He works for my
father,” she says mildly.
My eyebrows pull down and I blink up at her, confused. She chuckles and takes another long
drink of her cocktail.
“Richard St. Clair is my uncle. He was here to check in on their investment.” She places the
glass down with deliberate gentleness even as her voice twists aggressively around that last word.
I’d heard of Leopold St. Clair, the legendary real estate mogul and his wide-reaching empire
of properties around the world, but I’d never heard of Richard St. Clair. Admittedly, I had paid little
attention to the power players in that sector until I started seeing Rhett and Mateo. But with Leopold
practically being a celebrity, it surprises me a little that his family doesn’t have the same level of
fame.
“What did they invest in? A building?” I ask, feeling supremely out of my depth.
Alexandra gives me a long, searching look that makes me blush. She must find what she’s
looking for, as she sighs and lets her shoulders slump for a moment before returning to her dancer’s
posture.
“My father has been the principal contributor to Seth’s stipend.”
My brows shoot up, my jaw drops a little as the full weight of her words hits me. The
investment is keeping Seth... happy? Quiet? Alexandra waits for me to say something with an
expectant tilt to her head. Her scent is spice forward, and I see the small lines of worry pulling at the
corners of her mouth, the only tell that she’s not completely unruffled.
“That’s... generous of him?” I say, the phrase lifting in a confused question.
My response goes unanswered for a moment, and I feel a pit of embarrassment fall into my
gut. But just as I start to apologize, Alexandra’s lip twitches and she sucks in a breath. Her shoulders
quake with silent laughter as she looks away, shaking her head.
“Generous is not a word that most people would use to describe Father,” Alexandra says
between her chuckles.
I blush, looking back down to where my hands are clasped around the remnants of my drink. I
quickly down the rest of it, trying to regain a small fragment of my composure. Lucas moves off to fill
another order and Alexandra and I fall into silence for several long heartbeats.
“When everything happened, we hadn’t quite gotten our feet under us, so having my father take
on the financial burden was a welcome relief. But I should have known that, when Leopold St. Clair
extends a hand to help, it’s only there to distract from the knife in the other. He was paying Seth far
more than we could afford to take on at that point, and even now, when we’re doing much better, the
payment would be a yearly cost of well over seven figures. And Seth refuses to consider any
settlements that don’t include a continuation of his current compensation rate until he finds a new pack
—”
 “Which will be never if he’s getting millions from you for doing nothing,” I finish with a
solemn nod.
“A fact which boggles my father’s mind. For all of his business sense, he hasn’t got a clue,”
Alexandra vents, pulling her hair loose and running her fingers through it.
“Intelligent and smart are two very different things. If he created this monster, he could at least
do you the courtesy of keeping it in material comfort while you get the chance to live your life,” I
comment, stirring the ice in my glass.
“But if I move on, I could end up with someone who doesn’t fit his plan,” Alexandra replies
dryly, finishing her drink.
Lucas returns a moment later with fresh drinks, winking at us before dashing off again. The
dinner rush is in full swing, and he’s busy with the other bartender filling orders from the servers.
“So, he’d rather you be trapped by an omega who is holding you and your pack hostage?” I
ask incredulously.
“At least I’m not being photographed kissing a woman and being outed on Page 6,” Alexandra
mumbles.
I look at her with my jaw on the floor in outrage. “Are you serious?”
“About the photos? Oh, those are very real—”
“No, I mean your father is financially abusing you into staying in a bond you don’t want, all
because he doesn’t like that you’re attracted to women?” I demand, trying to keep my voice down.
“Well, he’s never put it in those words exactly, but that’s a remarkably succinct summary,
yes,” Alexandra admits, her words a little stilted as she blinks at me.
“I’ve never met him, but your dad can take a long walk off a short pier,” I growl, taking a
sharp swig of my drink.
Alexandra lets out a startled, strangled laugh, and her slightly dazed smile catches me off
guard. I sigh and take a moment to gather my composure.
“My family to this day continues to believe my rapist over me, and cut me off from my college
fund and trust fund because I didn’t want to marry a man I’m 90 percent sure would have killed me
either accidentally or on purpose within five years of the wedding day. Withholding funds as a method
of behavior control is abuse, full stop.”
I repeat the words of my old therapist, and I can see the flicker in her hazel eyes as they hit
their mark. She opens her mouth to speak, but I continue before she can interrupt.
“You are too smart to let these fucking micropenis-having dinosaurs get to you. Your uncle can
show up and stick his nose in your business all he likes, but at the end of the day, you’re a badass with
her own pack and several successful businesses. You’re going to figure this out, Alexandra. Fuck
them,” I spit.
“Yeah, fuck them! Who are we fucking?” Lucas asks eagerly, bouncing over to us.
“Her dad,” I retort, trying to cool the heat in my blood.
Lucas makes an exaggerated gagging noise that breaks the tension perfectly. As we’re
laughing, Alexandra pauses and pulls out her phone. Her brow twitches down for a moment before
she answers.
“Rhett, how did things go with—”
Alexandra’s question is cut off suddenly as she listens to whatever Rhett is saying on the other
end. With the noise of the restaurant, I can’t hear the words, but the words make the color drain from
Alexandra’s face as her eyes go wide with mute horror. Lucas and I both tense, waiting for her to say
something.
 “I’m calling Ted. Meet me at the office… No.” Alexandra’s eyes flick to me for a moment.
“She is… Okay, I’ll let her know… No, not yet… We can—...I’m leaving now. We’ll talk about it
later.”
Alexandra hangs up and looks at me with a guarded expression. “Rhett and I have to have a
very urgent meeting. Mateo’s going to come keep you company until we’re done, okay?”
“Lex, what’s going on?” Lucas asks sternly.
She shakes her head, looking down at her phone as she taps rapidly through it. “Seth. He
showed up at Alice’s.”
 Thirty-Three
Mateo

I throw my SUV into park outside The Valencia, cutting the engine with a sharp stab to the ignition
button. I sit for a moment and take a long, deep breath. Seth fucking Douglas. Just when everything
was finally going our way, he had to show up and throw a wrench into it. When I’d gotten the call
from Rhett telling me to haul ass to be with Lydia, I didn’t hesitate, even if I had a thousand and a half
questions. But Rhett was as calm as I’ve ever seen him, compartmentalizing better than Marie Kondo
in a junk drawer. He’d deal with his emotions later when he could punch it out.
My phone buzzes as I close my door and start toward the lobby.

Rhett: Just got to the meeting with Lex. I’ll keep you posted.
Me: Drag his ass, brother.
Rhett: With. Pleasure.

I smirk as I shove my phone into the pocket of my slacks, and shoulder open the door. The lobby
is packed with people trying to check in and get a seat in Carter’s, the restaurant and bar. I work my
way through the crowd, and I feel my shoulders relax as I find Lydia sitting at the end of the bar. She’s
leaning heavily on the bar top toward Lucas, the two in a deep, intense conversation. I purr a little to
myself as I look her over. Her shirt is loose but flattering, tucked into the high waist of her shorts. I let
my eyes linger on the lightly tanned skin of her shapely legs before forcing them back up to her face.
Most of her caramel-colored hair is down with sections pulled back out of her face, which has a light
touch of makeup. She always looks so effortlessly beautiful, whether she’s done up to the nines, or
just waking up with bedhead and a bare face.
I can tell when she catches my scent, as her back straightens and her head turns instinctively in my
direction. I smile, trying to keep my own worries from my face. Crossing to her, I position myself
against the wall so I can watch the room behind her. I cup the back of her neck and press a kiss to her
temple, taking a long inhale of her scent. My grip tightens as I detect the acrid burnt-sugar fear on the
edges of her lilacs and lavender.
“What’s going on, Mat?” Lydia asks, tucking her face into my chest as I pull her close.
“All I know is that Rhett was at Alice’s and Seth showed up. Something about interviews,” I reply
with a shrug.
Lucas lets out an exceptionally colorful expletive. “The bartender interviews,” he spits under his
breath.
Lydia and I look at him, waiting for him to elaborate. Lucas wipes at a nonexistent smudge on the
counter, shifting on his feet.
“We’re down a bartender while Kaylee’s out on maternity leave. There were open interviews
today. That’s why Rhett had to stop in, to discuss the candidates with Dominic, the hiring supervisor,”
Lucas explains heavily, not looking up at us.
“He seriously didn’t think y’all would hire him, right?” Lydia asks in a deadpan.
“Fuck no. I’m sure that this was just a convenient excuse to violate the stay away order,” Lucas
spits.
I sigh, hand threading through the hair down Lydia’s back. She relaxes into my touch, and I sigh.
The stay away order. It was supposed to keep him at a distance, to avoid exactly this situation. We
didn’t want to have to live our lives constantly looking over our shoulders. But Seth had a way of
taking all of our carefully laid plans and turning them inside out. I look around the room, only half
listening as Lydia and Lucas speculate about why Seth could have chosen this moment to show his
face.
The Valencia used to be one of my favorite buildings in the entire city. The design elements fit my
style perfectly, and there was a certain air of intrigue about the lobby and restaurant. It would be the
sort of place that Cold War spies would meet in for dead drops, or perhaps a place where James
Bond might come to get a martini and encounter the femme fatale. But now, all I can see are the ways
Seth tainted this room, this entire hotel, with his lies.
“So, what does Seth even do? He can’t just sit around spending y’all’s money,” Lydia asks
incredulously.
Lucas snorts. “He’s an influencer. He goes to the gym and posts mirror selfies and tells people
that the laxative tea of the week will get them skinny.”
I roll my eyes. Seth’s “career” was more of an annoyance than anything. His fans worship him,
and it makes it that much harder to distance ourselves from him. Lex’s public relations team sends me
at least one post a week where he basically talks about missing us without ever naming us. Toeing the
line of our separation agreement. Again.
“I’d look him up, but I don’t want to give him the clicks, if that’s how he makes money,” Lydia
grumbles, shaking her head.
“Good call. Not much to see anyway, especially when we’ve got our own eye candy,” Lucas
teases, waggling his eyebrows at me suggestively.
I chuckle, smiling despite myself. Lucas always has had that effect on me, lightening my mood
even when I’d rather wallow. Lydia turns to face me more fully, resting her hand on my chest and
playing with the buttons of my shirt. I purr a little, a shiver running up my spine. Her touch works
miracles. Lucas moves off to handle a drink order, and I close my eyes. My thoughts swirl restlessly,
distracting me from Lydia. She hums a little, but it lacks the resonance of a purr.
“You never purr for us,” I whisper off-handedly.
Lydia’s hand stills and I open my eyes to find her face pulled into a distant, troubled
expression. I’ve hit a nerve and I open my mouth to apologize, but she starts speaking before I can.
“My parents… the church, really, told us that an omega’s purr is sacred, a gift from God meant
only for their mate. But I never heard one growing up. My mom never purred for my dad, at least not
that I heard. I don’t even know how,” Lydia whispers, words barely carrying over the ambient noise
of the restaurant.
I frown, heart sinking. An omega has instincts to soothe those around them, and their purr is
the perfect tool to do so. An alpha purr works wonders on their omega, but it’s fairly limited in its
efficacy compared to an alpha bark, and barely affects betas at all. Betas have a pheromone that they
can use to calm alphas or omegas, but it takes a while for it to work to full potency. An omega’s purr
can stop an alpha rage in its tracks, or at least that’s what the rumors say. Seth withheld his purr,
preferring to be comforted than do the comforting. That Lydia was never taught how to do it, when she
clearly wants to, makes my heart twist.
“I can try to teach you, if you want,” I offer, picking my words hesitantly.
Lydia looks up into my face, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. I keep my expression neutral,
trying not to show how much I want her to learn. She bites her lower lip, and I wrap my arms around
her waist, holding her against me loosely.
“If you want. I can’t promise I’ll get it right away,” Lydia hedges, looking around.
I do the same, and exhale as I see that we’re still pretty much alone at this end of the bar, even
as the restaurant fills almost to capacity. I set my shoulders and smile at Lydia, gentle and
encouraging. I put one hand flat against her sternum, trying to keep my touch as innocent as possible.
Lydia still cocks an eyebrow at me, smirking.
“It’s like humming, but it comes from here,” I say, pressing slightly.
I put her hand on my chest, mirroring the position of my hand. I let out a little purr, and her
eyes brighten as she feels the vibrations through her palm. Her brow furrows in concentration, and
she starts to hum. I can hear the sound shifting as she tries to swallow it, pushing it from her lips to the
back of her throat. I shiver as I feel the rumbling in her chest for a moment before she runs out of
breath.
“You almost had it. Just let your instinct take over,” I encourage, a little breathless.
“It’s hard when your scent is so happy,” Lydia says with a sharp exhale through her nose.
I swallow, nodding. I search my memory, thinking about Seth. I usually lock all of those
feelings in a neat box in the back of my mind, but it’s easier to open now that he’s charged back into
my life.
“I think the worst part of this whole situation is not having a choice. Growing up, I was
expected to find a nice girl, an omega preferably, and settle down. My parents wanted me to be a
lawyer, but I was too good at sales to ever enjoy it. I never felt like I had a choice of who I was going
to end up with, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Seth took that from us, from me. And now…”
I trail off, emotion clogging my throat. The words are right there, on the tip of my tongue, but I
can’t finish. Before Lydia, I never cared if I would ever get out of this bond. I wanted companionship,
but I knew that every time I got close to someone, I’d have to break their heart and my own when we
could never be more than temporary. It didn’t stop me from trying, but I could only put myself through
that so many times before it became too much.
But meeting Lydia has been world changing. What I feel for her is so new, so unlike I’ve ever
felt before. She makes me want to be better, to do better for her. When I see her, it’s like looking at the
face of an angel sent down from heaven for me to love and cherish. She’s the last person I think about
before I fall asleep at night, and the first person I think of when I wake up. Even when Seth had his
claws sunk deep into me and I couldn’t tell up from down, it wasn’t like being with Lydia. I would do
anything to make her smile, to hear laugh.
She has so much room in her heart, so much love to give that it feels right to let her share that
with as many of my packmates as she pleases. I know she cares for me; I can see it in the way the
green of her eyes brightens when she teases me, or when she looks at me like she can’t believe I’m
real. But it’s me who gets blown away by this marvelous, kind, funny, sweet soul that fits perfectly in
my arms. I want everything with her, to show her every little secret I’ve discovered in every city I’ve
ever been to. I want her to show me all of the places that are special to her that I’ve never seen. I
want to find adventure with her, in all its forms.
My shoulders relax as I inhale a strong lungful of lilacs and vanilla, the hand on her
breastbone vibrating softly. I close my eyes and let my head fall back, smiling serenely as my troubles
fall away, my mind and body full of Lydia’s delicate little kitten purr. It doesn’t last long, maybe a
few seconds before she loses it, but I almost feel weightless as it fades. It’s like a post-workout high
mixed with the aftershocks of a mind-blowing orgasm.
 “Oh, wow. Baby, that’s…wow,” I breathe, swallowing as my mouth goes dry suddenly.
“Was that too much? Your scent was so sad, and I—”
“No, that’s incredible. Next time Rhett gets in one of his moods, you have to try this on him.
It’s going to blow his mind,” I say with a little laugh.
I open my eyes and look down at her, smiling at the look of joy shining up at me. I gather her
close, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her lips before settling my cheek on the top of her head. She’s so
good, and knowing that I make her happy settles something in my chest. I feel a kernel of warmth next
to my heart, glowing bright and hot. I don’t dare put a name to the feeling, but I can’t deny how right
the world feels when she’s in my arms.
I feel my phone vibrate against my thigh, and I’m tempted to just ignore it. But even if I
desperately want to ignore everything except the woman in my arms, I can’t. Not with the Sword of
Seth Douglas hanging over our heads. I keep Lydia close as I pull my phone from my pocket, opening
Rhett’s newest message.

Rhett: He’s so fucking insufferable. This meeting should have been over a dozen times, but
he keeps trying to make demands. Like he’s in any position to ask us for shit.
Me: Remember when I suggested we just hire a hitman to take care of him, but ~someone~
said that’s not how we handle our problems?
Rhett: I said what I said. I want the pleasure of killing him myself.

“Is that Rhett? Is everything okay?” Lydia asks, words tight with concern.
I nod, putting my phone back without typing a response. “Seth has always gotten under Rhett’s
skin, and it’s only gotten worse since the bonding fiasco. You know how he is about consent.” I sigh.
Lydia nods solemnly. “Did he and Seth…?”
“No, nothing like that. Seth always tried to top from the bottom, even with me. Rhett and
Lucas play their little game, but it’s just that to them. Seth wanted… still wants, really, control.”
“Narcs are like that. If they’re not in control, then it’s meltdown city,” Lydia says seriously.
“Narcs?” I echo, confused.
“Narcissists. Everything you’ve told me makes me think that Seth is one, like my ex and my
mother,” Lydia explains, looking away at something in the middle distance with unfocused eyes.
I nod, considering her words. Seth was certainly self-absorbed enough, but I didn’t know if he
was a full-blown clinical narcissist. I want to press Lydia for more of her reasoning, but the sadness
in her eyes, the haunted look on her face as it pales makes me dismiss the idea.
“Do you want something else to drink?” I ask, trying to redirect.
Lydia shakes her head, still lost in her thoughts. I push her hair to the side and cup the back of
her neck, massaging gently. She relaxes almost instantly at the touch, eyes falling closed with a little
whimper of pleasure.
“Any word from Rhett?” Lucas asks, appearing out of nowhere.
Lydia and I both jump, turning to face him as he leans with locked arms on the bar. I shrug,
telling him about the text, and I watch Lucas’s shoulders slump.
“What are they trying to do?” Lydia asks, voice still a little distant.
Lucas shrugs, looking at me for answers. Lydia follows his look, and I try not to let my face
show how much her little frown of worry makes my heart pulse with pain.
“If it’s anything like before, they’re probably trying to get him to agree to a settlement of some
kind in exchange for not pressing charges,” I start with a sigh.
 “He’s done this before?” Lydia asks, speaking before I even finish.
Lucas nods. “He’s never been this bold about it, but yeah. We’ve had to hire extra security for
the offices and hotels after he kept showing up, though it finally stopped once we got the stay away
order. Still hasn’t stopped him from having his little groupies hang around, but we’ve gotten good at
recognizing them. They aren’t exactly subtle and aren’t smart enough to keep quiet about who pays
them to take pictures of us.”
My blood runs cold at the memories of those days when we could hardly go outside our front
door without being mobbed. We’d developed a variable schedule to prevent them from tracking us
too closely, and it worked after a few months. We’d finally stopped seeing Seth’s flying monkeys
around the same time we met Lydia, a fact for which I’m grateful every day. I could only imagine what
abuse and harassment she’d be subjected to if anyone found her. Not to mention the risk of her family
realizing where she lives.
“Do you think it’ll work?” Lydia asks, drawing my attention back to her.
I shrug. “Rhett is pretty steamed this time. He’s getting close to his breaking point with Seth.”
“Maybe he’ll find Seth on top of a roof one day, and it’ll be a shame if Seth trips over the
edge,” Lucas spits.
Lydia laughs. “You think Rhett would really murder someone?” she asks incredulously.
“Yes.”
“Absolutely.”
Lucas and I speak at the same time, not a moment of hesitation. I’ve known Rhett for nearly ten
years, and his fuse is microscopic on a good day, with a protective streak as wide as the day is long.
If any of us were in danger, if Lucas or Lydia specifically were in danger, I had not a shred of doubt in
my heart that Rhett would burn the world to ash to keep them safe. Judging by the expression on
Lucas’s face, he’s thinking the same thing.
The wild card in all of this nonsense is Lex. Her relationship with Seth has never been
something I’ve understood, but I can’t say that I’ve put much thought to it. Lex rarely backs down from
anything or anyone, but Seth seems to have some sort of spell over her. She handles him with kid
gloves, and I’ve never been able to figure out why. She keeps her thoughts very close to the chest, and
never talks about the whirlwind few months when Seth had us fooled into loving him. But she has to
know that this can’t go on like this forever. Not now that we have Lydia.
We’ve talked as a pack about the future over the last few weeks, and Lex is well aware of
how Rhett and I feel about Lydia. We want more than just a fling, and it’s killing us not to be able to
make plans when we’re stuck in this holding pattern. Rhett has already started making plans and
taking steps to bring Lydia more into the fold, and it was only a matter of time before he revealed
them to her. Lex is aware of his intentions, and while she hasn’t given her full blessing, I know she’s
thinking about it.
As Lydia and Lucas start up another conversation, I lose track of the topic, lost in my head. I
need this to work, more than I’ve needed anything. I want Lydia to be part of my future, but I can’t ask
that of her until I can give myself to her completely. Until I can be her alpha, and only her alpha.
My phone vibrates again, and I pull it out right away. My stomach drops as I read the brief,
stilted message.

Rhett: Lucas needs to clock out and come home, alpha’s orders. Bring Lydia with you to the
pack house. We need to talk.
 Thirty-Four
Lydia

“About fucking time,” Mateo mutters as he reads the new message on his phone.
Lucas and I both look at him expectantly, waiting for more information. Fear for whatever
comes next feels like a fourth companion at our end of the bar, sitting too close for comfort. Mateo
had been silent for most of the last hour, lost inside his head. He had constantly kept contact with my
skin, from holding my hand to playing with my hair, to finally looping his arm around my waist and
pulling me into his chest. I let him, not pushing for answers even when I was dying to ask. His scent
remained bright with citrus, with only a hint of baking grass.
“Rhett says you need to clock out. They’re calling a pack meeting,” Mateo explains at last.
My shoulders slump a little before I can stop them, disappointment filling my gut. I’m sure that
someone will tell me what happened, but the instinct to be near my alphas, to comfort them and try to
soothe their distress, is riding me hard. After accessing my omega purr and seeing how relaxed and
happy it made Mateo, I want to be close, to keep comforting him when he’s clearly upset. But I’m not
pack, and they’re business is their own until they decide to tell me otherwise.
“I have to call in coverage. Lacey can’t handle the rest of the dinner rush by herself,” Lucas
says with a sharp sigh.
“No excuses, Luc. Rhett is pulling rank,” Mateo replies seriously.
Lucas swears and shakes his head. “That’s not fucking fair, I can’t just—”
“No, Lucas. Pack comes first. Tell Mackenzie to figure it out. You weren’t even supposed to
work today anyway,” Mateo growls, voice dangerously close to a bark.
Lucas sighs again, but I can tell he’s defeated. After a moment, he nods and turns on his heel,
walking away. I look up at Mateo, bracing myself.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say with a disappointed exhale.
Mateo looks down sharply, confusion clouding his already troubled eyes. “Why?”
I blink at him for a moment. “You said—”
“You’re coming too,” Mateo says like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I feel a blush spreading rapidly across my face, and I look away. Mateo’s hold on my waist
tightens, and he nuzzles into my neck, nosing aside my hair until his lips can brush the skin of my
throat. The featherlight kiss makes me shiver, but a small smile still tugs at my lips.
“You drove here?” he whispers in my ear.
I nod, biting the inside of my lower lip as I try to think. But Mateo’s hands and scent make that
very difficult.
“I’ll let security know on our way out. Just want to make sure Luc follows instructions,”
Mateo says with a small laugh.
I nod again, relaxing back into his hold. Mateo loops his other arm around me, and I close my
eyes, enjoying his warmth. After a moment, Lucas comes back from wherever he went, a bag and
helmet in his hand. My eyebrows lift a little, but I let the question slide to the back of my mind for the
moment. Mateo takes my hand, leading me through the restaurant and through the lobby. After a brief
stop at the front desk, we’re out in the parking lot. Lucas peels off into another section of the lot, but I
climb into the passenger seat of Mateo’s SUV.
Lucas catches up to us shortly after we leave The Valencia, his sporty and sleek green and
black motorcycle keeping pace with us easily. The drive is short, maybe ten minutes from the parking
lot to the elaborate wrought-iron gate of the private community of Bristol Point. Mateo scans a badge,
nodding to the booth attendant as we pass through the fence and onto the beautifully manicured streets.
I watch the houses go by as we drive, each large and tastefully structured. These aren’t the
McMansions that new money builds, but elegant homes that only those with a specific level of class
and affluence inhabit.
It’s not that I grew up poor, but my family and the pack had little issue with showing off. My
childhood home had more bathrooms than members, but it always felt empty. My father was pretty
frugal, but my mother spent money like it was on fire. With Pack St. Clair, it’s so easy to forget that
they are one of the wealthiest packs in the country. Mateo is just as likely to take me to a strip mall or
a bodega for a date as he is to get us a table at a five-star restaurant. Rhett is generous with his time
and treats me to well thought out and considered gifts, but he respects my wishes to not get me lavish
presents. They drive nice cars, but they don’t have staff to handle their personal affairs. It’s never
been more clear that having money doesn’t make you wealthy, or give you taste and class.
After several minutes, we pull into the driveway of a stunning two-story house. It appears at
first as if the house and garage are separate buildings, but as Mateo drives up to the garage door, I can
see that a covered porch connects them. Lucas maneuvers his bike down a branch of the driveway that
curves around the garage, down a hill, and out of sight. Lights shine through the windows on the first
floor, but don’t get the chance to really study more of the exterior as Mateo pulls into the garage.
I slide out of the SUV within moments of Mateo killing the engine, and I recognize Rhett’s car
parked on one side, and a silver sedan that must belong to Alexandra on the other. Mateo takes my
hand again, and I let him lead me through the garage. I can hear Lucas’s bike below us, but the engine
shuts off just as Mateo and I exit through the side door onto the covered porch connecting the two
buildings. I glimpse the backyard in the dusk light as we cross, and the lower level of the house
emerges from the hillside. Mateo leads me to the door on the side of the house rather than the
elaborate front door. We step inside a mudroom, and I follow Mateo’s lead as he toes off his shoes
and pushes them next to a pile of others. I follow him through an open doorway, past a beautiful bay
window complete with window seat, and through another arch into the kitchen.
The space takes my breath away as I openly gawk, mouth hanging open. The kitchen is open to
an informal dining area and a living room beyond that, all three rooms flowing together seamlessly.
The floors are warm hardwood, the kitchen cabinets white with marble counters. There is an
industrial-looking stove along one wall, with a convection cooktop built into the island opposite a
row of stools, and a reclaimed wood dining table, with eight cushioned chairs surrounding it, set in
front of a picture window. A massive U-shaped sectional dominates the living room, centered in front
of a cobblestone fireplace and TV above the mantle. There are two open doorways leading to rooms
beyond, but my attention is dragged from admiring the interior design work by a voice.
“Mateo? Luc?” I hear Alexandra call.
“Here, and I’ve got Lydia,” Mateo returns.
I follow the sound of Alexandra’s voice, turning to see her coming through the arch that
separates the foyer from the living room. She’s changed out of her dress into a baggy sweatshirt and
leggings, her hair loose and falling over her shoulders. Her face is bare of makeup, but she’s still
beautiful enough to take my breath away. She gives me a tense little smile, and I return it with a shy
one of my own. Her scent follows her as she crosses to the kitchen, and I shiver as the mulled wine
and bitter orange cloud coats my tongue and makes my stomach swoop.
“Lydia.”
Rhett’s voice hits me a moment before his scent, strong with leather and ink. I stand a little
straighter and whip around to face him as he closes the distance between us in three long, powerful
strides. Rhett’s hands immediately slide along the curve of my jaw and into my hair as he pulls me up
onto the tips of my toes to claim my lips with his. I release my hold of Mateo’s hand and seize the
front of his shirt with my fists. The kiss is brief but leaves me breathless all the same. When he pulls
away, I keep my eyes closed for a moment, just enjoying the lingering feeling of his kiss.
“I’m sorry,” Rhett breathes, pressing his forehead to mine.
I pull back a little, looking up at him with a confused frown. “For canceling our dinner plans?
Rhett, it’s not that big—”
“I’m apologizing in advance, love.”
Rhett’s serious tone and troubled frown make me stop short. He’s not usually one to be cryptic,
and it was enough to make my stomach twist into anxious knots. I’m about to ask what he means, but a
door to our right opens with a bang. We both turn to see Lucas kicking the door closed behind him. At
some point, he changed out of his work clothes into a pair of gym shorts, leaving his chest bare. I have
to swallow the sudden moisture at the sight of his toned stomach and lean but muscular arms, and the
multitude of tattoos that cover the pale skin of his chest, stomach, and arms. I see his pack tattoo on
his left side, the design slightly more elaborate than Mateo’s or Rhett’s. The largest piece is the half-
sleeve on his right bicep, which is made up of various images of cooking utensils and food.
“See something you like?” Lucas purrs, pulling my thoughts back to the present.
I clear my throat and look away, my face warm. “Just... I like your tattoos,” I manage to get out.
Rhett snorts, and his arms tighten around me. “We both know how much you like to admire...
tattoos,” he comments neutrally, making my face heat further.
“So, we’re just having a family movie night, right?” Lucas teases, moving around us to the
sectional.
“I fucking wish,” Rhett growls, fingers digging into my skin for a moment.
“Good thing I brought this booze up with me,” Lucas tosses back, gracefully vaulting over the
back of the couch and plopping down into one corner.
“Get a glass, and a shirt,” Alexandra chides, moving off toward the couch as well to curl up
against one arm.
“But I’m already comfortable,” Lucas whines.
“That wasn’t a request, Lucas.”
The command in Alexandra’s voice makes my spine straighten, even as I tuck my chin to my chest
and drop my eyes to the floor. Rhett sucks in a breath at my reaction, his exhale a low purr as he
buries his face in the crook of my neck. Lucas huffs and I hear him get up.
“Would you like some wine, Lydia?” I hear Alexandra ask lightly.
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply before I can catch myself.
Rhett hums a little laugh in my ear that makes me shiver. Alexandra doesn’t say anything to me, but
I can feel her eyes on me, and I shift uncomfortably in Rhett’s embrace.
“If you keep reacting to her like this, you’re going to find yourself in Lex’s playroom much sooner
than I thought you would,” Rhett whispers in my ear.
“Am I doing something wrong?” I mutter, keeping my eyes down.
“Quite the opposite, little one,” Rhett chuckles.
I feel his fingers under my chin, lifting my gaze from the floor. When I bring my eyes up, I suck in
a sharp breath at the absolutely predatory look in Alexandra’s eyes. My pussy clenches, and my knees
shake a little. I feel my nipples tighten against the material of my bra, my breasts heavy and aching.
My heart gallops away in my chest, and I can’t decide if I should drop my gaze again or keep contact
with the hazel inferno staring back at me.
“The last time she looked at someone like that, Lucas couldn’t walk for a week,” Rhett breathes
into my hair.
I shudder and finally manage to look away as Lucas steps into my periphery, holding out a
glass of wine. I see he’s still shirtless as he continues past us, vaulting over the back of the couch
again in one smooth motion that makes my thighs clench involuntarily.
“I said get a glass,” Lex snaps.
“I did. And I gave it to Lydi,” Lucas returns completely unruffled.
Her growl is enough to make me blush all over again, and I take a drink to clear my head. As
much as I want to give in to the sizzling heat that’s ping-ponging its way through the room, we have to
talk about what happened today. I set my shoulders and set out from Rhett’s embrace.
“What happened at Alice’s?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.
Rhett sighs and looks at me for a long moment. His eyes are clouded with emotion, the frown
pulling on his lips deep.
“Something tells me we’re going to want to be sitting down for this.” Mateo sighs, stepping
around Rhett toward the couch.
Rhett steps up to me again, and I let him guide me over to the couch. I sit between Mateo and
Rhett, both alphas sliding close to keep contact with my skin. Lucas has resumed his position in the
couch’s corner and takes a long pull from the bottle. I take a drink myself, steeling myself for
whatever I’m about to hear.
 Thirty-Five
Rhett

I look around at my pack as we sit on the sectional, and I can’t help the brief pang of longing in my
chest. I wish this was a normal evening, where we could all just curl up together and watch a movie
after a long day. But instead, we have to deal with the parasite that is Seth Douglas. Everyone is
looking at me expectantly, but I can hardly get my thoughts in order around the roaring need to protect
the omega at my side. Having her scent in my lungs, the softness of her skin under my fingers, is
helping, but I’m still fighting tooth and nail against the urge to throw her over my shoulder and lock us
away in my room until the danger has passed.
“So? What exactly happened at Alice’s, Rhett? Matty said he showed up for the interviews,”
Lucas prompts, breaking the tense silence.
I nod, taking another deep breath. “Dom and I were talking at the upstairs bar, going over his notes
when the hostess said there was someone there asking to speak with you, actually, Luc. When I
followed to see who it was, that’s when I saw Seth.”
“Probably didn’t expect you to be there, considering you are pretty hands off,” Mateo comments
with a thoughtful nod.
I bark out a humorless laugh. “Oh, he most assuredly did not expect to see me. I told him he had
sixty seconds to find the exit, or I would help him find it myself. Little chicken shit bastard nearly
pissed himself.”
Lucas lets out a snarl of a chuckle, a cruel sound that I can’t help but appreciate. “Fucking
good. Next time, only count to ten and see how fast he runs.”
I echo Lucas’s petty laugh, but Lex rolls her eyes. “Hopefully, there won’t be a next time.” She
sighs.
“If you let him get away with this, there absolutely will be,” Lydia grumbles into her wine
before taking a drink.
Lex looks at her with a wrinkled brow, confused at the heat in her voice and the absolute
certainty of her words. But I know better. Lydia has been through this before, so she knows the
warning signs. I want to pull her farther into my lap, to chase away the demons in her eyes with my
lips and hands, but we have business to attend to.
“But what did he want? Not that talking to me would have been any more productive, but it
still begs the question of why take the risk?” Lucas pushes, sitting forward to rest his elbows on his
knees.
I take a long breath, and I can’t stop myself from picking up Lydia’s legs and draping them
over my lap. I need her close, my protective instincts making it hard to see reason. She lets me adjust
her, the hand not holding her glass coming up to touch my shoulder. I let the steady weight of it ground
me, so I don’t fly off the handle.
“He saw the article. The photo of Mateo and Lydia.”
Mateo launches out of his seat, spitting a string of colorful and creative curse words as he
paces around the room, running his hands through his hair, pulling slightly. Lydia stiffens beside me,
and I wrap my arm around her back, tucking her close. Lex’s eyes follow Mateo, but Lucas is
watching Lydia. I can smell a trace of soft cotton and graham crackers, the scent he uses to calm, but
it’s not enough to reach Mateo yet.
“You’re sure? Gabby saw the picture and didn’t realize it was me until I pointed it out, and
she’s my best friend,” Lydia rasps, face distant.
I look at Lex, Lydia following the look, and after a moment of consideration, Lex gives a
solemn nod. Mateo has stopped his cursing, but stands over by the picture window, staring out across
the back lawn, hands on his hips. Lydia’s breath shakes as she exhales, using the counting technique to
stay calm. I run my thumb along the patch of skin on her side where her shirt has ridden up, trying to
calm her without words. It takes a minute, but she eventually clears her throat and looks down into her
lap.
“Okay. So, what does he want with me?”
The resignation in her words breaks my heart. It takes all of my effort to keep my seat and not
take her from this mess, to keep her safe from our past, so I can’t answer right away. I feel her eyes on
my face, but I can’t look at her. I have too much anger in my heart, and I don’t want her to think for
even a fraction of a moment that it’s directed at her.
“He’s trying to exercise his right of first refusal,” Lex says when I don’t speak.
Even the memory of his smarmy fucking face as he made his demand at the meeting makes me
want to break something. Lucas lets out a snarl that would make any alpha proud, and I hear Mateo’s
hand slam into the wood of the window frame.
I can scent bergamot mixing harshly with Lex’s bitter oranges and Lucas’s burning
marshmallows. Lydia’s scent is still mellow, full of florals. She picks up my hand and presses it
between her breasts. I look at her face and find her brow furrowed in concentration. She’s humming,
and the sound occasionally drops to her chest, and I realize with a burst of astonishment that she’s
trying to purr for me. My anger melts a little as the warm kernel of love fills my chest with affection.
Her scent is strong with lilacs and vanilla, and it acts like a balm to my nerves, even if she doesn’t
quite get the purr right. She huffs a sigh after a brief moment, letting my hand drop. I want to say
something, but Mateo speaks from his spot by the window.
“Snowball’s chance in Hell that we’re going to do that,” he snaps, words shaking slightly in
his anger.
“Seconded. No fucking way,” Lucas adds, just as furious.
I let out a little growl of agreement, and Lydia’s head whips up and her eyes narrowed in a
glare. All of her softness is gone, her hackles raised.
“Hey, wait, no. Y’all don’t get to make that choice for me,” she interjects, trying to pull away
slightly.
I tighten my grip, stopping her on instinct. “Seth is dangerous—”
“This isn’t my first time at the narc rodeo, Rhett. I think I should get to decide what risks I’m
willing to take,” Lydia snaps, cutting across me.
“It’s not that we don’t think you could handle him, but—”
Lydia swings her head around hard enough for the tips of her hair to whip my cheek. She turns
her steely glare to Lex, effectively ending our discussion.
“What’s he willing to give up if I do it?” she asks in a tone that brokers no argument.
I turn my attention to Lex, and I catch the surprised lift of her brows before her face settles
back into the cool neutrality.
“Six months of his stipend,” Lex says.
Mateo sets off pacing and swearing again, and I can’t help the pang of empathy in my chest.
He wants out of this so badly, and I believe I have the reason slung across my lap. I know how I feel
about Lydia, even if I haven’t told her yet, and it isn’t hard for me to imagine Mateo not being in love
with her, too.
Lydia lets out a disbelieving scoff. “That’s it? Seriously? Did you even talk about
renouncement?” she demands.
“We tried, but he wasn’t willing—”
I growl, anger flaring at her attempt to downplay what happened. Her eyes snap to me, but I
ignore the warning flashing in their hazel depths.
“When we pushed, he threatened us. And you backed down, Lex,” I accuse, getting heated all
over again.
I was done trying to play nice with Seth, especially after today and the shit he’s trying to pull.
My pack has enough power that Seth’s existence is little more than a persistent nuisance. But with
Lydia involved, especially now that I have such deep feelings for her, it was time to stop pussy
footing around and handle him. And Lex not stepping up when we have this very real chance to be rid
of him grates on my raw nerves.
“When you say that he threatened us, what do you mean?” Lucas asks suddenly.
“It was a thinly veiled threat, but after everything he said at Alice’s and in the meeting, it was
pretty easy to read between the lines. He knows who Lydia is, and specifically called out her ex,
Darren by name. At the restaurant, he said he looks forward to telling him what his omega’s been up
to, and in the meeting, he said it wouldn’t be good for anyone if he decides to share what he knows
about us with the relevant parties.”
As I finish speaking, I feel Lydia’s entire body lock up next to me, and she sucks in a sharp
inhale. Immediately, my eyes find hers, and my heart pounds as I see the completely undisguised
terror in her face. She’s white as a ghost, all color and warmth gone, and her mouth is pressed into a
thin, bloodless line. She’s shaking, and her hand trembles so hard that her wine glass falls from her
grip and shatters on the floor at our feet. I hear Mateo calling her name, but I can only focus on the
stomach-churning scent of burnt sugar filling the room.
“Lydia, look at me. You need to breathe,” I say, nearly shouting.
Her eyes fly around the room, her hair whipping around her face as she shakes her head, hands
twitching like she doesn’t quite know what to do with them. She takes a short inhale but doesn’t
release it. I swallow, heart dropping. I seize her by the waist and set her in my lap, legs on either side
of my hips. I take her face in my hands, holding her still even as her body trembles uncontrollably. I
know what I have to do, and I only hope she’d forgive me.
“Omega. Look at me.”
Lydia’s back bows sharply as my true alpha bark settles over her. I feel the heady rush of
power under my skin as I try to control the compulsion, to fill my unspoken command with as much
concern as I can. She goes slack in my arms as she gives in and obeys, eyes finding me on instinct
alone.
“Good girl. Breathe with me now.”
The compulsion isn’t as strong when I don’t use her designation, but take long, deep breaths,
watching as her chest rises and falls in sync with mine. Her eyes clear a little, the color returning to
her cheeks as the seconds pass. I release the hold between us, letting her breathe on her own. I move
one of my hands around to the back of her head, tucking her face into the crook of my neck as the other
bands around her back, cradling her close.
“You’re safe, Lydia. I’ve got you. No one is going to hurt you. He’s not going to take you from
us, not while I still have breath in my body. You’re safe, my love. You’re safe.”
I whisper the words into her hair, and I can tell when she realizes that I’m not using my bark
anymore but letting her hear the words and believe them of her own will. She sags into my chest, and
I feel the drops of her tears as they soak the front of my shirt. I swallow my growl, turning it to a purr
to try to soothe her pain.
I feel Mateo’s body heat and he kneels on the floor, silently cleaning up the wine and glass
before moving off to discard the pieces. Lex pulls a cashmere blanket from the storage ottoman,
draping it over Lydia’s back and shoulders before settling on the couch beside me, sitting cross
legged facing me. Lucas pulls the ottoman closer, sitting almost knee to knee with me as he leans
forward and gently rubs Lydia’s back. The fragrance of soft cotton and graham crackers fills the air,
and Lydia sighs as she scents it.
“It was warm,” Lydia breathes, only loud enough for me to hear.
“What was, my love?” I ask, keeping my voice just as quiet.
“Whenever he barked at me, it always felt like he was shoving me under water in an ice bath.
But your bark was so… warm,” Lydia goes on, her voice almost dreamlike.
Because he was demanding your submission without ever doing anything to deserve it.
“Lydia, I can’t ask this of you. I’ll tell the lawyers that a meeting with you is off the table.
None of us have declared intent to bond, so he doesn’t have a right to ask this right now. He can give
up a year of his stipend, and we won’t press charges this time,” Lex says, resolute.
Lydia turns her head against my chest until she’s looking at Lex. Her silence stretches, but I
don’t dare to speak over her again.
“If you back off now, it’s only going to be a matter of time before he pushes again,” Lydia
rasps flatly.
Mateo settles on my other side, finding Lydia’s hand under the blanket. “As much as it pains
me to say it, I really think Lex is right. I don’t like where Seth is going with this, and I don’t want to
see you get caught in the crossfire.”
I refrain from making a snide remark, and even Lucas manages to keep his sarcasm contained
to a snort. Lex rolls her eyes, but Lydia shakes her head.
“If we give him this meeting, we’ll at least have control of the circumstances. We won’t have
to guess about his intentions, and he’ll have to back off. Keeping me away from him only shows that
you have a weakness, and he’s going to use that against you,” she pushes.
“And if you do meet with him, will you be okay with the terms? Because he won’t budge,”
Lex fires back.
I feel Lydia swallow and flinch at the snap in Lex’s voice, and I flash a warning look at my
pack mate. But she doesn’t see it, as she’s focused entirely on the omega in my arms.
“Honestly, I don’t think you should give anything. Call the bluff.”
“No,” I growl, holding her tighter.
Lydia lets out an exasperated sigh. “It’s worth considering, Rhett.”
“I have. Do you not remember that you’re not the only one he can expose?” Lex asks.
The only reason I know how deeply Lex is rattled by this is because I see the tension in her
neck, the way her fingers twitch, playing a phantom keyboard on her thighs. Her expression is
otherwise unreadable, and it unsettles me more than I care to admit. My protective instincts are still at
war with my common sense, muddying the waters.
“If we lose investors or clients because we’re queer and poly, then they weren’t people we
would want to be associated with in the first place,” Lucas interjects seriously.
 “And his threat might actually be enough for the courts to finally intervene. If he’s violating
court orders and then trying to blackmail us into not enforcing it, it would show that he’s acting in bad
faith. The judge might finally grant our dissolution petition,” Mateo adds thoughtfully.
Lex sits for a moment, looking between all of us before settling back on Lydia. I can see the
conflict in her eyes, but I keep quiet. Mateo and Lucas make good points, but I don’t want to voice
that just yet. Something doesn’t quite add up, and that nagging doubt gives me pause.
“No. It’s my job as the prime alpha of this pack to protect our interests. If he tries to go public,
we’ll nail him to the wall. But until then, he’s going to have to give up the stipend, and he’s not going
to get the meeting.”
Lex unfolds from the couch, and we all watch her cross the room with identical expressions of
shock and disbelief. Lydia’s the first to recover her voice, letting out an indignant noise.
“You don’t get to make that call for me. I’m not part of this pack,” she shouts.
Lex stops in the doorway that leads to the foyer and her office. Her face is set in a patronizing
smile, but I can see the hurt in her eyes.
“Aren’t you?” she says lightly, turning away before anyone can answer.
We sit in silence as we let the words sink in, no one quite sure what to make of this. My heart
aches for my pack mate, and the weight she carries on her shoulders. Lex makes the hard calls, even if
it kills her to hurt us. She’s trying to do what’s right, but I don’t know if this is it.
 Thirty-Six
Lydia

In the days following the blowout at the pack house, the skin-crawling feeling of being watched hangs
around my neck constantly. The only time I feel safe is when I’m buried in my nest, usually with one
or both of the alphas that have come to mean so much to me. I spend time at the pack house, too, but
after the way things ended with Alexandra, the air there feels heavy with all of the unspoken words
left between us. If I thought she had been avoiding me before, that was nothing compared to her
behavior now. She stopped requesting new flowers, and I didn’t see her at all. I’d catch her scent of
cloves and wine, and the regret in my heart would begin to bleed all over again.
Her behavior both baffled and frustrated me in turns. The only one of the boys that would
indulge me when I wanted to rant about the whole thing was Lucas, and he was just as confused as I
was. Alexandra wasn’t avoiding him, but he told me that she’s been acting withdrawn and cold, even
with him. Rhett assured me that he would try to get her to come around, but if she’s as stubborn as I
am, I didn’t think the air would clear any time soon.
A week after Seth’s ambush, I’m working with Gabby to rearrange the shop floor, switching
out display items for fresh ones, and changing out the general spring/summer window display for our
Fourth of July items. We’re still three weeks from the holiday, but the B.O.A. schedule was gospel.
“So, what are your plans for this year? Your harem doing anything special for your birthday?”
Gabby asks, reaching down from the stepladder for another crepe paper lamp.
I pass it up with a sigh. “They aren’t my harem, Gabs. And no, they aren’t. They don’t even
know it’s coming up.”
“You are the only person I know who doesn’t like to celebrate their birthday,” Gabby says
with a shake of her head.
“Just because I don’t use it as an excuse for special treatment for the week around it doesn’t
mean I don’t enjoy it,” I snark with a sarcastic chuckle.
“It only comes once a year, babe. And we’ve only got a few more years left in our youth. We
have to enjoy it while it lasts.”
I roll my eyes, passing more lamps up for her to hang from hooks in the ceiling. “I’m turning
twenty-seven, not ninety-seven.”
“Why don’t the guys know you’ve successfully survived another circuit around the sun?”
Gabby asks, redirecting.
I shrug, even though she doesn’t see the gesture. “It hasn’t come up,” I mumble.
That wasn’t strictly true. Rhett had asked when my birthday was before, but I answered with
early July and left it at that. I never wanted to get into how, as a kid, birthdays weren’t celebrated as
they were considered too secular by the church. I used to pretend that the parties and fireworks for
Independence Day were for me, as my birthday falls two days before it. When I moved out, I was just
so used to not making a big deal out of it that it never occurred to me to mention it.
And after everything that happened last week, I didn’t want to add more stress to the pack’s
plate. Rhett and Mateo would try to make a big deal of it, and I was tired of fighting with them. It’s
just easier to ignore this birthday. Maybe if we were still together next year, I’d be more comfortable
with them doing something for me, but it just feels wrong when life feels so chaotic.
Gabby steps down from the ladder, and I move back with her to admire the decorations. All
red, white, and blue Americana, wreaths and arrangements tastefully on display. We put the sheer
curtain back and turn into the store. It’s almost closing time, and with no major flower holidays, it’s
been pretty slow for the last couple of weeks. It was almost quitting time for the office workers, so
we’d see a small rush soon, but we could relax for the moment. I go behind the counter, leaning
heavily as Gabby hops onto it, twisting so one of her legs is bent while the other dangles over the
front edge.
“Your date idea was great. Me and Myself had a really good time at the spa,” Gabby starts
with a laugh.
I chuckle with a fond smile. I’d suggested that Gabby try dating herself for a while, and she’s
been taking herself out on the town. She’s been brighter, more energized and she’s been having a great
time getting to know herself more.
“I’m glad you both liked it. We’ll have to do a girl’s night there sometime soon,” I say,
doodling on the order pad.
“Will you be able to fit me onto your dance card? You know what they say about company and
crowds,” Gabby teases.
I look up at her with a flat stare. “I’ll always have space for you Gabs.”
“You’re in a mood, aren’t you? Everything okay?” she asks, tone still light.
I hear a car go by outside and my head twitches to the door before I look back to the
countertop. I shrug, drawing mindless swirls and whorls on the pink paper.
“Trouble in paradise?” Gabby asks hesitantly.
“I suppose. They have an ex who might be able to give mine a serious run for his money in the
“Worst Human Being Ever” contest,” I grumble.
“Wow, that bad?” Gabby says with a low whistle.
“Yep,” I reply, popping the P for emphasis. “He’s got them cornered and they can’t shake him.
He’s the reason Lucas and Rhett haven’t bonded, I found out. He’s an omega and is holding right of
first refusal over their heads.”
“Shit,” Gabby says, drawing out the word in her shock.
“The pack and I got into it because he wants to meet me, but they don’t want me anywhere
near him. I say let him try, but he knows about Darren, so the pack thinks it’s too risky.”
“And what do you think?”
“That it’s bullshit. I didn’t escape one narc to just allow another one to control me.”
It feels so good to finally say all of this out loud to someone who has some objectivity. Gabby
cares about me, but she doesn’t have to worry about the backlash of going against pack mates or
hurting feelings.
“You’ve only been going out for a few months, but they have to realize that they can only kick
this can so far before the road ends,” Gabby asks, playing with the end of one of her braids.
I sigh. “That’s what worries me the most, I think. This would have been a good time to try to
get out from under his thumb, but they… well, Alexandra is letting him get away with this.”
“Ah, so it’s not Rhett and Mateo that have you all tied up in knots,” Gabby says with a
chuckle.
“No, no, it’s not them. Rhett wants to protect me more than anything. He might take it a little
far at times, but I know his heart is in the right place. Mateo wants to be free so bad, to just have the
choice of who he gives his heart to for once. And the longer this drags out, the more it hurts him. And
Lucas just wants his pack to be happy, and put this behind them once and for all,” I explain, recalling
my conversations with him.
“So Alexandra is the problem,” Gabby summarizes.
I huff out a sigh. “I don’t know. I can’t figure her out. One minute she’s looking at me like I’m
her favorite dessert, and the next she’s completely untouchable. I get why Mateo calls her the ice
queen.”
“Have you talked to them about this? What it means for y’all going forward?” Gabby asks
again.
I shrug noncommittally. “We’re not trying to rush this, and it hasn’t come up.”
“Do you know what you want?”
I open my mouth, ready to say that I don’t, but I close it again with a frown. I think about all
the dreams, both at night and during the day, I’ve had about these alphas, and even their beta. Every
time I wake up in Rhett’s arms, I can imagine how I would wake up nearly every morning for the rest
of my life like that, and how happy those thoughts make me. I can see how Lucas and I would make
pack meals in their incredible kitchen, him teaching me the techniques he’s picked up in his travels,
my showing him all of the traditional Southern foods I learned at the elbow of my grandmothers. I’d
even imagined what it would be like to take Mateo to New Orleans and show him the best places to
eat that only locals know about.
“You’re in love with them,” Gabby declares when I’m silent for a long time.
I feel my face heat at her words, but I can’t deny how they make my stomach swoop and my
heart race. Rhett’s smile, Mateo’s laugh, the way they look at me like I’m some heaven-sent blessing.
The emotions mix in my gut, and I can’t help but smile. I never once believed I could feel this way
about anyone, especially after Darren. But I can’t deny how much I’ve grown to care for them in just a
few short months. And maybe it’s time I admit that my feelings are more than just affection.
“Yeah, I think I do. That’s wild, right? How can I love two men?” I admit, a little astonished.
Gabby laughs brightly. “You have more love inside of you than you know what to do with,
babe. I’ve always considered myself one of the luckiest people ever because of how much you care
for me. And those boys should thank their lucky stars to have someone like you in their lives.”
I feel my blush deepen, and I smile as I look down. I realize that I’ve been drawing little
hearts and swirls, like the lovesick idiot that I am. I tear the page and toss it away.
“How are you going to tell them?” Gabby asks excitedly.
I shrug with one shoulder. “I could just, like, use my words and just put it out there,” I say,
only half joking.
Gabby lets out a Sigh of the Long Suffering, putting a hand to her forehead dramatically. “This
is the perfect opportunity for a grand gesture, and you’re just going to pass that up?”
I look at her skeptically. “I don’t even celebrate my birthday, and you want me to do
something ridiculous just to tell the guys I love them?”
Saying the words out loud feels much different from thinking them. But I don’t hate how they
sound. I’ll even admit to butterflies, huge, eagle sized butterflies.
Gabby looks at me, aghast. I settle in as she goes on a rant about how I should seize every
moment because I don’t know if they’ll be my last, and I lose track of her speech, drifting off in my
head.
I love them. I love Rhett Cooper, and I love Mateo Hutchenson. I try to pinpoint when it
happened, but no singular lightbulb moment comes to mind. I fell a little every time Rhett looked me
in the face and gave me his whole attention whenever I spoke. A little more when Mateo lets me into
the private network of secrets and treasures he’s built. When Rhett calls me his good girl. When
Mateo calls me beautiful and means it. The miracle isn’t that I fell for two men, two alphas. It’s that it
took me this long to realize it.
Gabby picks up a good head of steam and starts suggesting ways I can tell them how I feel.
Ideas range from hand delivering meaningful flowers with a card that says the words, to getting a
cookie cake with my declaration spelled out in chocolate chips. I play along, each idea getting more
insane as closing time approaches.
I leave Gabby on the search for a skywriting plane at 5:30, going outside to start bringing in
the sidewalk displays. I’m smiling to myself, shaking my head a little over how silly Gabby can be as
I start to collect the baskets and place them on the central cart.
“Lydia Anderson, right?”
I straighten at the sound of the male voice, a deep gravelly smoker’s rasp. I turn toward the
speaker, finding a man sitting at one of the wrought iron tables outside Carlos’s Cafe. The man is built
like a brick shit house, with a neck that’s the same thickness as my bicep, and biceps the size of my
thighs. His tanned skin stands out harshly against the bright blue sleeveless muscle shirt, his dark hair
cropped close and held in place with a ton of product. Most of his face is hidden by aviator
sunglasses, but the twist of his overly plump mouth sets my teeth on edge.
“I’m sorry. Who are you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light even as dread settles in my
chest.
The man removes his sunglasses, revealing eyes so dark that it’s almost impossible to
distinguish pupil from iris. He brazenly drags his eyes up and down my body, and his upper lip
twitches into a sneer for a moment.
“I’m Seth. Seth Douglas. We need to talk.”
 Thirty-Seven
Lydia

I stare at Seth for a long moment. I’d never caved and looked him up, but it shouldn’t surprise me how
absolutely stacked he is. Everything else was nothing like I’d imagined. I try to picture him with
Mateo or Alexandra, and my mind can’t do it. The image of this omega, with a body better suited for
lifting weights than cuddling, even holding hands with a woman as elegant and refined as Alexandra
is beyond my ability to conjure. He’s still looking at me, waiting for a reaction. I have to take a slow
breath, trying not to show how rattled I am. I need to keep control, as much as I can. He’s done this to
get a rise out of me, and I can’t let him get what he wants.
“I expected you to be taller. You weren’t wearing heels in your photo,” Seth goes on, smirking
to himself.
I hum a noncommittal noise, hand going to my pocket. I feel my phone against my leg and
relax. I thought I might have left it on the counter, but having it on my person sends a wave of relief
through my body that almost takes the strength out of my legs. I keep my face blank as a plan starts to
form.
“So, little omega, you’ve been busy, haven’t you?” Seth starts, settling back in his chair and
crossing one leg over the other.
I shrug, turning back to my task. My hands are steady, thank God, and I take the moment when
I’m not facing him to pull my phone out and put it on the cart. I lean against it casually, trying not to
draw attention to my actions as I open my messaging app, not looking as I open the first thread.
“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” he demands.
I look back to his face, finding a little satisfaction that my gray rock strategy is working, even
if it’s taking every ounce of my concentration to keep my composure. I swipe my fingers across the
keys without looking, typing a message and hitting send.

Me: SOS. Seth at Wila’s.

“I’m not sure what you want, so what’s there to say?” I return, trying my best to sound bored
and not terrified.
Rhett is muscular, and Mateo has a deceptive amount of strength. But Seth’s frame is too
bulky, too alpha-like for my mind to settle. Even though I know he’s an omega, and shouldn’t be a
threat, all of the pack’s warnings rattle around my head like bouncy balls in an earthquake.
“I mean, how about you start by telling me what the fuck you’re doing with my alpha when
you’ve got a bond mate,” Seth demands, leaning forward.
I roll my eyes, mostly because I’m fairly certain it’ll annoy him. I’m rewarded with a tiny,
pathetic attempt at an alpha growl. His game is revealing itself to me with each moment. I glance
down at my phone and breathe out slowly as I see the reply that’s come through to my distress call.

Lucas: OMW. Keep him there. Rhett and Lex are inbound.
 I’d forgotten that Lucas was that last person I texted, but it didn’t matter. He’d gotten my
message to the pack, and they were coming to handle Seth.
All right. Have to keep him talking. Good thing that seems to be his favorite thing to do.
“Hate to burst your bubble, but I don’t have a bond mate. You can run back and tell my ex that
his mark didn’t take,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster.
Seth looks genuinely surprised at the strength in my voice, and I press my advantage while
I’ve caught him off guard.
“And I’d say that I’m sorry to inform you that Mateo’s not your alpha, but I’m really not,” I
continue with an ironic chuckle.
“Is that what he’s told you? That he’s not spoken for?” Seth counters, uncrossing his legs.
“Oh, no. He’s told me all about how you raped him and his pack,” I spit back, my temper
slipping through.
I glance up and down the street, looking for any sign of Lucas or the others. But the afternoon
traffic has slowed to a trickle, and there’s no sign of their familiar vehicles.
“I didn’t—how dare you—”
“Really? So, you didn’t intentionally trigger their ruts, and then proceed to bond with them?
Because I may have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night. And last I checked, there has to be sex
for bonds to form. And if they didn’t consent, then that’s rape, buddy.”
Seth’s tan face goes red, and I have to swallow my grin of satisfaction. He wanted to meet me,
and I’m sure he was expecting some meek little omega whom he could bully into submission. He’s
fucked around and now he’s about to find out.
“Still doesn’t explain why you’re hiding from your alpha,” Seth blurts, almost too quickly.
Redirecting when he’s not winning. Moving goal posts.
“Again, Darren is not my fucking alpha. Though I can understand why y’all are getting on so
well, considering you’re both rapists,” I push.
“He was going to marry you, give you the omega fantasy, but you ran. And now you’re poking
your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he says, standing and advancing toward me.
I take a minute to collect myself, taking a deep breath. I regret it immediately as his scent
finally hits me. I can smell some sort of cologne, but it only enhances the scent of grenadine, limes,
and menthol cigarettes. The tobacco in the scent cloud makes my heart clench almost painfully, my
skin going cold and starting to sweat. I hear my heartbeat in my ears, and I have to close my eyes and
swallow against my suddenly dry mouth.
“You’re right about one thing. Your alpha—Darren, is it?—and me had a nice long talk, and
he’s not happy about what you’ve been doing, little omega. Sleeping with not one but two alphas, both
of whom have partners. Quite the little homewrecker you are,” Seth continues, words all the more
sinister in his gravelly rasp.
All of my confidence has vanished, leaving nothing but churning anxiety. I struggle to hold my
ground, even as my mind screams at me to run. I look around again, my heart sinking as I still don’t
see any sign of Lucas or Rhett or Alexandra. That scent, not quite Darren’s but close enough that my
instincts want me to put as much distance between us as I can. But I just need to wait him out.
“He told me that he wasn’t surprised you’re giving it out for free to anyone who can stomach
you. He’s very excited to see you again, you know,” Seth goes on, taking another step closer.
I move around the cart so I have something between us, though I don’t dare show my back. I
look at my phone, but there aren’t any new messages. Nothing from the people who promised to keep
me safe. But just like I predicted, they gave this prick an inch and he took a mile. And now I’m here
with their baggage, trying not to cry and scream as my memories crowd forward.
“Does he know where I am yet?” I manage to get out, thankful my voice isn’t shaking as much
as my hands.
“Oh, no. Mostly because I wanted to talk to you first. You see, despite everything he told me, I
think you’re smarter than you look. So I’m going to make you a deal. If you leave Pack St. Clair,
preferably the city, but I’m willing to negotiate, I won’t tell Darren where he can find his little
wayward omega,” Seth said, stalking forward with deliberate slowness.
I back away as he rounds the cart, and I keep eye contact with him. As he gets closer, his bulk
towers over me, and I try to breathe through my mouth, but my chest heaves as I feel the panic rising
fast. I can hear the shouting, the names, the abuse that I’d been through ringing in my ears as more of
that menthol smell takes over my senses. I shake my head, trying to get my breathing under control, to
get my heart rate to slow down for just one minute so I can think. But he steps into my space, so close
I can feel his body heat even in the blazing afternoon air, and I snap.
“Back off, and if you call me ‘little omega’ one more fucking time, you’re going to be shitting
out your teeth for a week,” I snarl.
I put my hands on his chest and push with all of my might, and I manage to get him to stumble
backward several steps. I’ve gone from flight to fight, and my whole body shakes as I plant my feet
and stand my ground.
Seth glares at me, mouth twisting in a savage snarl. “What did you just say to me?” he growls.
“You have a lot of fucking nerve to show up here and threaten me like this. Do you even care
about what’ll happen if you tell Darren about me? What he’ll do to me if he finds me?” I snap, voice
rising to nearly a shout.
My head pounds, and I can hear the blood rushing in my ears, a roar that blocks out all
rational thought. Every nerve ending in my body feels like a live wire, my skin hot. My spine curls
into a defensive position, my hands balling into fists at my sides. God, this scent is making me crazy.
“Hopefully, he’ll put a muzzle and leash on his bitch,” Seth retorts, mocking.
“When Darren snapped before, I ended up in the hospital. But he’s had four years to stew on
this. He’s probably already got my shallow grave marked out,” I say, voice finally shaking as I can’t
hold back my fear anymore.
Seth looks shocked for all of three seconds, but the expression disappears as fast it comes. He
truly doesn’t give a shit if I live or die, so long as I’m not near the alphas he claims to be his. And that
knowledge frightens me more than anything.
“So I found a skywriter, and it’s not that—who the fuck are you?”
My head whips around as I hear Gabby’s voice, and I see her standing with her hands on her
hips, glaring at Seth with all the venom of a scorpion. I turn my attention back to Seth and nearly fall
over as I see the charming smile and boyish glint in his eyes. The sociopath from a moment ago is
gone, and the charlatan mask is firmly in place.
“Oh, I’m just a friend of Mateo’s. I’ve heard so much about Lydia, and I wanted to meet her.
And who might you be?” Seth asks, friendly as they come.
“That’s Seth, babe. The ex,” I hiss, stepping up until I’m at the cart again.
My phone still shows no new messages, and I’m stunned to see no more than a few minutes
have passed since this all started. It feels like I’ve been here for hours.
“Uh huh. We’re closed, my guy. Carlos’s is closing up soon, too. So you’ve got to hit the ol’
dusty trail, cause loitering’s a crime,” Gabby says, stern and unwavering, exactly how Wila taught
her.
 She takes a small step forward, casually placing herself between me and Seth. I stand close,
taking her hand and squeezing two times in quick succession. We’d established the silent code for
when we had to deal with creeps at the bar and being able to tell Gabby that this wasn’t just a creep,
but someone dangerous, without speaking is a relief. She returns the squeezes, her sign of
understanding.
Seth looks between us, and my stomach sinks. I don’t want him anywhere near Gabby, but I
can see the genial mask slipping with each heartbeat. He laughs to himself, and the sound makes my
skin crawl.
“Got to have everyone fight your battles for you, little omega? I shouldn’t be surprised,
considering how you like to run and hide from your problems. So, what do you say, are you going to
do it again?” he tosses, looking me dead in the face.
The cold, black void of his eyes makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I
swallow hard, and I hate the cowardly part of my mind that considers his offer. I’d run once to stay
safe. Could I do it again?
I hear the roar of an engine and the squeal of tires on pavement, and all three of us look up in
time to see a motorcycle flying up the street, coming to a sudden stop in the empty space behind Seth.
I can’t help the sigh of relief and the sag of my body as Lucas slams his bike into park, ripping off his
helmet and throwing it to the ground carelessly. Seth takes several stumbling steps backwards as
Lucas advances forward, murder written in every line of his beautiful face.
“You.”
Seth at least has the good sense to look afraid as he retreats several more steps. Lucas puts
himself between me and Gabby and Seth, and the rage rolling off him in waves smells like a forest
fire. I can’t help but relax, even as my body still shakes with adrenaline.
“Always have to be the busy body, don’t you, Luc? We were just trying to have a friendly chat
—”
“Shut your fucking mouth before I do it for you,” Lucas barks, cutting off Seth’s false
nonchalance.
“Does Alex know you’ve got a crush on Teo’s toy? Last I checked, she’s not one for sharing
her playthings,” Seth returns, a taunting rasp that sets my teeth on edge.
“You can ask her yourself. Her and Rhett are right behind me,” Lucas throws back with a
harsh laugh.
Almost as if on cue, Alexandra’s silver sedan comes to a smooth stop in the space next to
Lucas’s bike. The car hardly comes to a full stop before the passenger door is open, Rhett climbing
out and advancing toward Seth, growl low and dangerous. His blue eyes flash with a rage I’ve never
seen before, his whole body vibrating with fury. It’s beautiful, the righteous anger of my protective
alpha.
“Last we spoke, I t’ought I told ye tha’ if you showed yer face where it don’t belong, t’ey’ll
need to feed you yer protein shakes t’rough a tube,” Rhett snaps, voice shaking with his growl.
The color drains from Seth’s face, and I feel a swoop of triumph low in my belly. Rhett steps
into Seth’s space, leaning down to close the few-inch gap between their faces. Seth doesn’t back
down, but I see his throat bob as he swallows hard. Gabby squeezes my hand, and I hear her a little
chuckle.
“Your boyfriend’s hot when he’s pissed,” she whispers in my ear.
“If you know what’s good for you, Mr. Douglas, you’ll remove yourself from the premises,
and never come back,” Alexandra drawls, her heels clicking on the sidewalk as she walks to Rhett’s
side.
She’s dressed as well as ever, her white silk blouse tucked into her high waisted trousers. I
can see the red bottoms of her black pumps as she settles into what I can only describe as a power
stance, feet slightly apart with her shoulders square. Her hair is loose, soft waves cascading down
her back. I can’t see her face, but I can picture the stern, cold look in her eyes that she reserves for
business.
“Alex, I don’t—”
“You don’t get to speak, Omega.”
I suck in a sharp breath, spine straightening as the sub-audible waves of her bark hit me. It
isn’t directed at me, but I still feel the command slide along my spine like an ice cube dropped down
the back of my shirt. I don’t feel the urge to comply, but I still drop my eyes and go still.
“We’re done with these games. You specifically agreed to leave Lydia out of this, and yet
you’re here, terrorizing her,” Alexandra goes on, and the disappointment in her voice makes the back
of my eyes burn from second-hand guilt.
“I didn’t—”
“Mr. Kneally will be hearing from us soon. We’ll see you in court.”
The air is tense and silent as she dismisses Seth, and I hear her heels on the sidewalk again,
but my eyes are still locked on my shoes. Her scent of cloves and cinnamon drapes over me, warming
my core as I draw it deep into my lungs. A gentle finger on my chin lifts my gaze until I’m looking into
Alexandra’s hazel eyes. Her brow is pulled into a slight dip of concern, but she’s otherwise
unreadable.
“Are you done for today, lovely?” she asks, voice the softest I’ve ever heard.
“We still have to close up, ma’am,” I squeak, words barely making it out past the lump in my
throat.
Alexandra nods once. “I’m going to leave Rhett and my car here with you, but I need to go into
the office and make some calls. I’d like to talk to you at the pack house when you’re done,” she says.
“You can go now. Gran’ll understand. I’ve got this,” Gabby says, squeezing my hand again and
nudging my shoulder.
I look at my best friend and swallow. Her dark eyes are so kind, and I feel guilt crashing
down on me. I feel my lower lip tremble and I take a deep breath, nodding silently.
“Good girl. Rhett, my love. Here,” Lex purrs, first to me then raising her voice to call over
her shoulder.
“Keep walking, ya bastard,” Rhett shouts, not moving.
“Yeah, don’t you have a tighter shirt to go find?” Lucas adds with a sardonic laugh.
Alexandra lowers her hand from my face, but her scent stays warm and spicy, acting as a balm
to my fragile disposition. Gabby gives my hand one last squeeze before starting to clean up the
sidewalk display. I don’t dare look to see where Seth goes, but I can tell by the way Lucas relaxes
when he’s finally out of sight. He steps up to hold the door for Gabby, fingers brushing my arm as he
passes me. I close my eyes and shiver at the touch, only to have the wind knocked out of me as a
warm, whiskey scented body engulfs me in a tight embrace.
“Take my car back home, my love. Lucas can take me back to the office. Mateo’ll have to
come pick me up after his meeting,” Alexandra instructs, and I hear her nails clicking away on the
screen of her phone.
Rhett nods, and I let myself relax into his arms, the adrenaline finally wearing off. All of the
fear, the anger, the worry hits me at once, and I feel almost detached from my body as I let Rhett hold
me. The world feels like it’s at the other end of a tunnel, all sound dampened like I’m underwater. I
sway a little on the spot as my legs lose their strength. I scent Gabby as she presses in for a quick hug,
but I don’t understand the words she whispers in my ear. I let Rhett lead me away, my legs moving
automatically. By the time I’m in the front seat and Rhett is backing away, I let panic drag me down,
giving in to the exhaustion in my heart.
 Thirty-Eight
Rhett

I grip the wheel of Lex’s car hard enough that my knuckles turn white. Lydia’s scent of burnt-sugar
fear fills the cabin until I’m practically choking on it. But I force myself to focus on getting us home
safely. She doesn’t speak or even open her eyes as the tears stream silently down her face. This quiet
despair is almost worse than her panic, and not being able to fix it tears me apart.
I pull into the garage a few minutes later, shutting off the car with a press of the ignition
button. I turn in my seat, looking at Lydia’s pale, tear-stained face. She looks like she could be asleep,
but she’s shaking too much for that. I almost wish she would, just to escape this mess for a little
while. My anger rises again in the back of my throat, burning like acid as it tries to consume me. I
promised to protect her, and she still had to endure that ordeal. The shame of that failure presses on
my chest until I can hardly breathe.
“What do you need, love?” I whisper, my voice cracking slightly.
“Nest,” she breathes.
My heart clenches at how small and broken her voice sounds, and how truly helpless I am
right now. I need to keep her safe, but her apartment is too exposed. If Seth found her at her job, who
knows what other information he has?
“I can try. Wait for me in the car, okay? I’ll be right back.” I release a sigh, mind working as I
try to find the solution.
Lydia nods and goes quiet. I climb out of the car, closing the door gently, and then race into the
house. I load my arms with every pillow, blanket, cushion, and piece of clothing I can find, carrying
them out into the garage and up the stairs along the back wall up into the gym. I’d rather her be
somewhere more comfortable, but the heat and anger under my skin refuses to go away. I need to get
this energy out, but I don’t want to let Lydia out of my sight. I only hope that this will be enough.
I lead Lydia up the stairs to the gym, and her shoulders tense at the strong scent of alpha on
everything. Mateo and I use this space the most, and our scents are thick, even to my nose. Lydia finds
the linen pile right away and starts pulling pieces into the alcove of a dormer. I help her as much as
she’ll let me, but I leave her alone once she starts arranging and fussing. She wraps a fluffy green
blanket—a twin to the one I’d gifted her a few months ago—around her shoulders and head before
settling into the hollow she’s made for herself.
I wait until she’s still and quiet before letting out a long sigh. I work my tie free and force my
shaking fingers to the buttons of my shirt. The rage that has been mostly contained since Lucas first
texted that Lydia was in trouble roars back to life, the ember flaring to an inferno that refuses to be
quelled. When I’m free of my button-down, I change into a pair of gym shorts that Lydia hasn’t used in
her nest and begin the process of wrapping my knuckles.
Some people do yoga, others run, but I have yet to find an exercise that settles me quite the
same way sparring does. Playing with Lucas comes close, but it’s not the same sort of release. The
catharsis of pushing my body to its limit, the burn of my muscles helps soothe the savage temper that
lives in my chest. Once I’ve finished the methodical process of taping my knuckles, I move over to the
heavy bag hanging from the ceiling and start stretching my shoulders and arms.
 I start slow, getting my body used to the movement before I really start to hammer the bag with
my fists and feet. I let the fury consume me, let the heat in my heart rise to the surface, purging it with
sweat and movement. It’s easy to imagine my bag is Seth’s body, and I position my strikes to where
they would do the most damage, but not enough to end him. I would beat him bloody, leave him a
broken shell of a human being, and only when he’s begging for it would I walk away to let him bleed
out slowly. The torment that he’s inflicted on my pack isn’t worthy of a quick death.
I don’t know how long I’m lost in the maelstrom of rage, but I jump when a small hand touches
my sweat-soaked back. I spin around, hands up to defend, sweat flying in an arch. I look down and
see Lydia looking up at me, arms raised to block her face, which is screwed up tight as she braces
herself.
“Lydia, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—don’t—I’m sorry,” I ramble, dropping my hands and
splaying them out in a gesture of peace.
Lydia relaxes, flushing bright red. She chews her lip and sniffles slightly. “Sorry, I didn’t
mean to startle you,” she mumbles.
I lurch forward to embrace her but stop as I realize how absolutely soaked in sweat I am. I
settle on taking her hands and kissing the knuckles softly. My grip is a little clumsy with the wraps,
but her mouth still twitches into a little smile.
“So,” she starts, breathing out a long exhale.
I open my mouth to echo, but her eyes narrow in a glare before I can. I can’t help my chuckle,
and my heart unclenches a little.
“Are you okay?” I ask gently.
Lydia shrugs with one shoulder, nodding slowly before stopping and shaking her head. She
sniffles again, and it nearly breaks my heart. I nod, understanding her unspoken feelings.
“Can… can you show me how to do that?” she mumbles, not looking me in the face.
“You want to—”
“Punch something? Yeah, kinda. There’s just so much here,” Lydia lets go of my hand to
gesture at her chest and stomach, “and I—”
“Need to get it out. Okay, yeah. I can do that,” I finish with an excited smile.
Lydia blushes a light pink, and my heart melts a little. She’s beautiful, even when her eyes are
clouded with her past. I guide her to stand between me and the bag, and I take her fists in mine,
adjusting her fingers so she won’t break them on impact. She lets me guide her body without protest,
and I marvel at how calming the action is. The simple act of moving and breathing together, feeling
her shift and twist as I instruct, putty in my hands, centers me, helps me find control of my racing
thoughts. I nudge her feet into a proper stance, breathing in her lilac and honey scent. The world falls
away as my body towers over hers, and I only feel the heat of her skin under my fingertips as I wrap
them gently around her wrist. The pull of my muscles as I guide her arm through the punching motion,
showing her how to twist her body to put her weight behind each blow. It takes more effort than I
thought it would to step back and let her do it on her own.
She moves slowly, her punches barely shifting the heavy bag at all. But as she falls further
down into whatever pit looms inside of her, the punches get harder, and I step behind the bag to brace
it and hold it in place. The position allows me to see her face, the way her teeth are clenched and
bared as she pants through them, the redness of her cheeks from exertion and the emotions roiling like
lava in her eyes.
“That’s it, love. Let it out. You are so strong, so brave,” I encourage, the words falling out
before I know what I’m saying.
 She doesn’t acknowledge me, but her breathing gets more ragged, her form sloppy as she just
pounds on the bag with abandon. Her grunts turn to muffled screams with each impact. I want to stop
her, to see if she’s hurt, but she keeps going, getting louder and louder until she’s shrieking at the bag,
tears on her face. She only lasts a few moments in that place of rage and pain before going still and
slumping forward as her shoulders heave with her labored breathing.
“I hate how much power he still has over me. I can’t escape him, no matter how hard I try.
Now you are getting sucked into the shitstorm of my life, and you never asked for this,” Lydia drones
between pants.
I step around the bag and pull her into my chest. The sweat on her brow sinks into my shirt,
mixing with mine. She doesn’t lift her arms to return the embrace, but I don’t care. I sway gently on
the spot, like grass in the breeze. I purr in my chest, deep and soothing as I stroke her hair. She molds
to me, letting me just hold her. I feel how deep she breathes, and I try to keep my scent full of calming
pheromones for her.
“If I was given the choice, I would, though. I’d choose you every time,” I say, pouring all of
my love into the words.
Lydia looks up at me, and the astonishment on her face makes my heart lurch. I lift a hand and
cup her face as best I can with my wraps, holding her to keep her eyes locked with mine so she can
see how much I mean the words.
“You have so much to worry about, and it’s not fair for me to add all of this extra drama—”
“I don’t care. I will be by your side to weather every storm that the universe can throw at us. I
promised to protect you, to show you how truly magnificent you are, and nothing is going to stop me
from doing so for as long as you’ll have me.”
I wipe away a stray tear with my thumb as it slides down her face. Lydia has shed too many
tears in her life, and I will never stop trying to make her smile. She deserves every good thing life has
to offer, and I want to spend every waking moment trying to give them to her.
“I love you, Lydia. I’m so in love with you, and I’m going to spend each day proving to you
how deep that love goes.”
Her soft gasp and wide eyes fill my heart to bursting with love and affection. I lean down and
press my lips gently to hers, reveling in their softness. I can taste the salt of her sweat, but it only
enhances the vanilla and honey flavor that is all her. This beautiful, kind, generous, loving omega in
my arms is everything I never thought I’d find. I want to protect her and ravish her, to spoil her and
tease her, to give everything I have to offer. When we pull away, she looks up at me with silver lined
eyes, but the smile on her face could outshine the sun.
“I love you, too. So much.”
I kiss her again with more heat as her words fill my head, my body, my soul. Her love is a gift
I will cherish for as long as I live. I feel her arms finally wrap around my torso, holding me tight as
our mouths move together. I walk us back until she’s pressed against the mirror, and I loop my hands
under her thighs. She responds to my unspoken command, hopping slightly as I lift, wrapping her legs
around my waist as I press my hips forward, pinning her to the wall. Her hands wind into my sweat-
damp hair, pulling enough to make me moan into her mouth. When her lips part and her tongue meets
mine, I can feel my cock pulse in my shorts, hard after one simple taste of her.
“I love you, Rhett,” Lydia pants into my mouth, hands roaming down my chest to bunch into my
shirt.
“I love you,” I echo, fingers digging into the denim shorts covering her thighs.
We’re a tangle of limbs and fabric as we rip and tear at each other, no games, no teasing, just
desperate to feel skin on skin. I use my teeth to rip off the wraps on my hands as she flings her shirt
away, pushing her bra up just enough to free her perfect breasts. I manage to get one of her legs free of
her shorts and panties, and I slide two fingers inside of her dripping slit. Her teeth sink into the bare
skin of my shoulder, and I buck forward, driving my hand hard and fast in and out of her channel.
“I need you, please. Rhett, please,” Lydia whimpers, nails scraping down my back as she
writhes on my hand.
I only manage to growl, withdrawing my fingers and shoving my shorts and boxers down until
my throbbing cock springs free. I press into her slowly, moaning in unison with her as I stretch her
tight heat. I kiss her again, rolling my hips and digging my fingers into her hard enough to bruise. She
moves with me, hands on my shoulders clutching hard, nails biting my skin. We come together in
perfect harmony, our bodies slick with sweat and flushed with desire. I drive into her hard enough
that I can hear the mirror starting to crack, but it doesn’t stop me. I need her, need to drown in her
lilac and lavender scent.
Our fists let us work through the events of the day, but this is catharsis of a different kind. I
show her with my body how I want to worship her, to make her see how special she is to me and my
pack. Her moans and whines in my ears push out everything, purging all of the simmering anger and
fear until the only thing I know is her. I feel her squeeze and pulse around my cock, both of us
rocketing toward our peaks. Her scream of release comes moments before my own roar, and I push
deep, driving my seed as far into her as I can.
We stay there for a moment, locked together as close as we can without knotting. Her heels are
digging my lower back, her arms tight around my shoulders as she clings to me. I press my forehead to
hers, and our eyes slide closed. Our breathing slows, even as my entire body tingles with awareness,
each place her skin touches mine warm and sparking.
“I love you, Lydia. I will never let anything happen to you, not so long as I have breath in my
body,” I vow, words a reverent whisper.
“I love you, too. So much it hurts. I don’t want to lose you.” Her voice breaks, and I hold her
closer, tucking her head into the crock of my shoulder.
“I’m here, and I’m not leaving. I promise.”
It will take a lot more than one cowardly omega or piece of human filth alpha to tear me away
from Lydia. I’m hers, and she’s mine, as deeply engraved on my soul as Lucas or Mateo or Lex. And I
am never letting her go.
 Thirty-Nine
Mateo

As I wait for Lex to be done inside of the St. Clair Foundation office, I stare out of the window of my
SUV. My elbow is braced on the edge of the open window, hand over my mouth. The smell of smog
and gasoline and grease fills the air, the unique bouquet of a city that I’ve grown to love as my home.
A place I’ve picked apart for all of its hidden gems and diamonds in the rough. Traffic races by on the
busy street, but I hardly hear the sound of tires on pavement or the whir of engines. My thoughts are
consumed by Lydia and everything that I’ve been told happened on this God-awful day.
When we negotiated the terms of our truce, we made it abundantly clear that Lydia was to be
left out of this. We have every right to date whomever we please, so Seth has absolutely no reason to
talk to, look at, or be anywhere near her. But he violated yet another boundary, pushing us to the limit.
But I’ve reached the end of my rope with Seth. I’ve made my choice, and I want out. I don’t care what
happens to the St. Clair Foundation or C&H Designs. I want my life back.
The passenger door opens, pulling me from my thoughts. Lex climbs into the seat, nearly
slamming the door closed behind her. Her hair is loose, but the humidity is starting to make her
natural curl more pronounced. She shoves some stray pieces away from her eyes, sighing deeply.
“Let’s go home. I’m so fucking done with today,” she drones, buckling her seatbelt and settling
back.
I put the car into gear and take off, my teeth clenched. I have so many questions, but I’m not
sure where to begin. Thankfully, Lex starts talking, saving me the choice.
“Edgar was surprised to hear from us again so soon. We caught him on the back foot, so I think
we’ll actually get something accomplished this time,” she says, tone flat.
“Will we? Or will you cave again when Seth pulls out the blackmail card?” I snap, unable to
hold back the venom racing through my chest.
“Mat, that’s not—”
“Not what, Lex? Not fair? Because you know what I don’t think is fair? Subjecting Lydia to
harassment and potential exposure to her abuser all because we keep pussyfooting around with this
sociopath,” I say, nearly shouting over her.
“What exactly would you like me to do, Mateo?” Lex returns, ice cold.
“Stop letting him get away with violating court orders, for a fucking start,” I growl, eyes
narrowing on the road.
“He’s not getting away with it. He’s giving up—”
“Fuck the stipend, Alexandra. I don’t care how much hush money you and your father pay him.
I want him gone. I want this bond gone. I’m done.”
“You don’t think I am, too? But it’s not that fucking simple,” Lex spits, voice rising to nearly
shouting.
“Has he hurt you? Put his hands on you?” I demand, taking a turn a little sharply in my anger.
“What? No—”
“Is there a sex tape? Did he film you beating him bloody or whatever other kinky shit y’all got
up to?”
 “No, he didn’t. Not that I know of. What the fuck are you playing at, Mateo?”
“I’m trying to figure out what that ’roided-out psycho has on you that’s turned my badass
prime alpha into a fucking coward!”
My words ring in the air, and it feels like the entire city has stopped as she glares at me. I
don’t take my eyes off the road, but I can feel the heat of her hazel stare as it bores into the side of my
face. I don’t regret the words, even if they hurt. When I don’t continue, she finally looks away, going
quiet. I let out a long, slow breath, trying to regain my patience. I pull up to the gate and swipe my
access badge, closing my window as the fence slowly rolls open.
“If I could rip out your bond and take it myself, I would. You don’t deserve this,” Lex
whispers in the silence.
I look at her with wide eyes, my anger disappearing. She’s looking out of her window, but I
can see the silver lining her eyes. I’ve never once seen Lex cry, or even come close, and I can’t look
away. She blinks a few times, and the moisture disappears, and she breathes in deeply. Her shoulders
bunch, and she rubs her palms on her thighs, still not looking at me.
“And you do?” I ask gently, not sure what I want the answer to be.
She shrugs but doesn’t speak. I sigh and start forward driving a little slower than normal. For
all of her faults, Lex deserves better than Seth. We all do. I can’t stop myself from wondering how
Seth Douglas got the better of Alexandra St. Clair, what he could possibly know or have that can
scare the strongest woman I know. But my mind can’t fathom what could be bad enough that she’d go
through all of this trouble to keep it a secret.
Her father may not like the people Lex is attracted to, but she’s built an empire on her own.
We could cut ties with her family completely and be just fine. So, it can’t be his disapproval that’s
holding her back. And Lucas had the right idea when he said that we wouldn’t want to work with
anyone who would think less of us because of something we can’t control. Lex clears her throat a
little, and I see her set her shoulders out of the corner of my eye.
“If she wants to leave, we can help her get settled somewhere. I’ve got some contacts in
Atlanta that could use someone like her,” Lex says, voice sad and flat again.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, confused.
“Lydia. If she wants to—”
I can’t help the bark of surprised laughter that escapes my throat. None of this is funny, but
Lex’s solution is so her that it hurts. The road of least resistance, no matter how stupid and
unrealistic.
“Go ahead and suggest in front of Rhett that Lydia should run. I fucking dare you,” I throw at
her, rolling my eyes.
Lex only sighs, shaking her head. My stomach drops heavily, seeing where this is going. She
wouldn’t do it with Rhett within earshot, but Lex was going to try to convince Lydia that the best
choice is for us to part ways. But it’s not. Not by a country mile. What was to stop Seth from tracking
Lydia wherever Lex sends her and pointing her ex in her direction then? We’d be too far from her to
do anything to help her if the worst were to happen. I didn’t want to live in a reality that didn’t have
Lydia by my side, in my arms.
By the time I’m parking in the garage, the silence between us feels like a physical,
impenetrable barrier. Lex is locking her heart away, and I’d be damned if she lets her fear chase away
the best thing that's ever walked into our lives. Lex moves to get out, but I grab her forearm before she
can. She looks at my hand on her arm, then up to my face, hazel eyes bright with surprise.
“I love her, Lexi. I can’t—I don’t want her to go,” I whisper, voice breaking.
 I feel the burn in the back of my eyes as I think about all the heartache I’ve been through
before, and how it all seemed worth it because Lydia was waiting for me. But if Lex makes her go, I
don’t know if I could take it. I love Rhett like a brother, but what I feel for Lydia is more than that. I
never want to be without her again, no matter the cost.
Lex looks at me for a long moment, eyes searching. I let her see all of my emotions, the love,
the fear, the desperation, the anger, everything. Something shifts between us, and I feel the wall
crumble just a little. She puts a hand over mine, and I close my eyes at the warmth of her hand.
“I don’t either, Matty.”
I open my eyes and look at her, the tremble of her voice cutting through me like a knife. Her
eyes are distant, but there’s a spark there. Maybe she hasn’t given up just yet.
“We can protect her. We have to,” I push, squeezing slightly.
Lex sits for a moment, and then she nods. I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I’d been
holding, my shoulders slumping.
“We have to see what she wants, but if she wants to stay, then we… we’ll do what we have
to,” Lex says at last.
Our eyes connect, and something shifts in the air between us. For the first time since Seth
came into our lives, I feel like we’re on the same team again. We aren’t fighting against each other,
and I can admit that it’s a relief. We’ve spent so long at each other’s throats that I’d nearly forgotten
why I agreed to be part of this pack. Alexandra St. Clair may be shrewd, unrelenting, and untouchable
at times, but she would do anything for us. Even at the cost of her own happiness. But she deserves
the best, someone who can love her and melt that icy heart.
Someone like Lydia.
 Forty
Lydia

I’m sitting at the kitchen island, watching Lucas mix ingredients in the stand mixer when I hear the
garage door open and close, signaling Mateo and Alexandra’s arrival. My hair is still damp from my
shower, and I’m snuggled in one of the fluffy robes Rhett gifted me. Rhett insisted on separate
showers, and he’s just finishing up getting the sweat from our workout off. I can still feel some
soreness in my hands and hips, but I didn’t mind the latter as much as the former. I blush a little to
myself at the memory of his hands on me, the way his voice wrapped around his declaration,
“Penny for your thoughts,” Lucas snarks, making me jump.
I chuckle lightly, rolling my eyes. “Those thoughts cost at least a nickel, maybe even a dime.”
“Nah, Rhett’s dick isn’t worth that much.”
I choke on my inhale, and Lucas cackles with glee as I try to contain the heat in my face and
breathe normally.
“I was just guessing, but good to know I was right. Did he bend you over the weight bench?
Hang you from the pull up bar?”
“Against the mirror, pet. Mind the dough, or you’re going to over mix.”
I spin in my seat as Rhett’s voice fills the kitchen, and I feel like my face is hot enough to boil
water. Rhett’s dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, his hair unstyled and hanging slightly over his brow.
He crosses to me, stepping up behind me and wrapping his arms around my shoulders. Lucas has the
decency to grin sheepishly even if the glint in his stormy eyes says he’s not sorry in the slightest. He
turns his attention back to the dough, pulling the ball out and throwing it onto the flour-covered
counter.
I hear the mudroom door open and look as Mateo and Alexandra enter the common space.
Mateo makes a beeline to me, and Rhett steps aside for a moment to allow Mateo to take me in his
arms. I inhale his lemonade and grass scent, closing my eyes as I relax.
“Is that bottle of Riesling still up here, Luc?” Alexandra asks, throwing herself down into the
seat beside me.
A wave of her scent hits me, and I whimper at the strong taste of cloves and spices on my
tongue. Her face is a cool mask, but I can feel her stress and worry as I breathe her in. She looks at
me and gives me a little, sad smile that does nothing to reassure me.
Lucas merely nods, and Rhett crosses to the fridge, pulling the bottle from within. He starts to
open a cupboard, but Alexandra just gestures at Rhett to hand her the whole thing. My jaw goes a
little slack as she pulls the loosened cork out with her teeth and spits it in a perfect arch across to the
sink before taking a long pull directly from the bottle.
“We have glasses, you know,” Lucas says mildly, kneading the dough ball in front of him.
Alexandra’s answer is a single, perfectly manicured middle finger in his direction as she
drinks. When she finally comes up for air, she shudders and sighs.
“So what did he have to say,” she deadpans, not looking at me.
I swallow, and Mateo rubs my shoulder slightly in comfort. I let his warmth, the weight of his
arms around me steady me.
 “He’s been in touch with my ex, Darren. He’s said that if I don’t leave y’all, he’s going to tell
Darren where to find me,” I say with a little difficulty.
Alexandra swears, and even her cursing is more elegant than should be allowed. She pushes
her hair back and rests her forehead on her hand, bracing it against the countertop. I can’t see him, but
I hear Rhett’s protective growl, and his leather and whiskey scent grows stronger as he slides in
beside Mateo to be close to me.
“Do you want to?” Lucas asks, voice low and hesitant.
I look at him with wide eyes and raised brows. Even though I’d had the thought cross my mind
in the heat of the moment, I know now that I can’t leave them. These people, this pack means too much
to me. I have a life here, one that I built on my own, and I don’t want to give that up because I’m
afraid.
“No. I’m not letting Darren ruin my life again. I’m not running,” I say emphatically.
Mateo sags against me, and I feel his purr against my arm as he brushes his lips along my hair.
I put my hand over his, letting Rhett take the other one and squeeze. The whiskey and lemonade
combination of them settles my fluttering heart.
“You know the one thing I don’t get—”
“One thing,” I mumble as Lucas starts, making Mateo snort.
“Why is Seth even bothering? What could he possibly be getting out of exposing you to your
ex?” he goes on, grunting a little with the effort.
I sigh, shrugging. “It would get me away from y’all. It could be as simple as ‘if I can’t have
them, no one can.’”
Alexandra hums thoughtfully, spinning the wine bottle slowly between her palms. “I think
there’s something else going on. You haven’t heard of any weird behavior from your ex? No attempts
to contact you, to figure out where you are?”
I shake my head. “Jason is the only person I talk to with any real frequency. I texted my
brother a while back, and spoke to my mother on the phone once, but—”
“You spoke to your mother? She knows you’re here?” Alexandra interjects, sitting up straight.
I nod slowly, confusion and worry creeping into my chest. “Yeah, she called me at Wila’s and
even sent my brother’s wedding invitation there. Why?”
Alexandra blinks as she absorbs that, her brow pulling down as she purses her lips in thought.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Would you like to bring the rest of us along for the ride on your train of thought?” Lucas asks
with an exasperated sigh.
Alexandra looks at me, and I blink in surprise as I see the slightest hint of pink along the tops
of her cheeks. Her smile is shy, something so unlike anything I’ve seen from her that for a moment my
mind refuses to believe it.
“I’ve had my team doing some… well, let’s just call a spade a spade. They’ve been snooping
through social media to see what there is to see about you. I will give you credit where it’s due,
because you did make it exceptionally difficult for them to track you down, and we were only able to
do that because we know your name and what you look like. We found your old profiles and those of
your family members. And for the last four years, your mother and Darren have been treating you like
a missing person rather than someone who moved out and cut ties,” Alexandra explains.
My whole body goes tense as my mind struggles to take in that information. But as I think
about it, things start to make more and more sense. How insistent my mother has been to get me home
lately. How Darren has been trying to figure out where I am. And what Seth could possibly get out of
this.
“Diane, you scheming bitch,” I hiss under my breath.
“What do you mean?” Mateo asks, confused.
I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose slightly as I feel a headache coming on. “This is a long
story,” I start.
“Well, lucky for you Lex still has half a bottle, and this dough has to proof,” Lucas says with a
resigned sigh.
He pulls a metal bowl out from under the island and oils it with practiced efficiency. I
consider where to start as I watch him work, how to explain the inner workings of my mother’s mind.
I feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I turn the details over and over until Lucas puts the dough in its bowl
and drapes a towel over it.
“So, I guess the best place to start is to explain that my maternal grandmother, MawMaw
Anderson, absolutely hated my mother. My mother is a piece of work, and MawMaw saw right
through her even if my father absolutely did not. MawMaw and PawPaw had a cattle farm, and it was
worth quite a lot. My mother had her sights set on the estate from the beginning, I guess. She made no
secret of how much she hated MawMaw, but I loved her. She’s one of the few people I remember
telling me that the church didn’t have all the answers,” I begin, picking at my nails.
“Is she the one who left you your college fund and trust?” Rhett asks, leaning on the counter
next to me.
I nod. “Much to my mother’s chagrin. To this day, I still think God had a sense of humor when
he brought MawMaw home. My mother was getting ready to ship her off to a home and seize control
of the assets. But MawMaw died in her sleep the day before it was set to happen, heart attack. The
lawyers told us that her will was the most airtight document they’ve ever seen.
“The long and short of it is that MawMaw made it so my mother would have to work
extremely hard to get access to the trusts. It would unlock when I got married or bonded, graduated
college, or turned twenty-five.”
“So why don’t you have your trust now? You’re twenty-six,” Alexandra prompts, leaning
toward me with her brow set in concentration.
“MawMaw was the type of woman who hoped for the best and prepared for the worst. She
put clauses in place that protect the fund if something were to happen to me. The relevant one here
being the MIA clause. If I’m declared a missing person, then the fund freezes and no one can access it
until such a time as my fate can be determined. If I die, my brothers split the fund. If I’m not dead, I
get it,” I explain.
“But it can’t stay frozen forever. Eventually, the case would be classified as cold and
shelved,” Mateo comments thoughtfully.
“Yep. After ten years, the fund unfreezes and my brothers get my money. Jason and I did a lot
of digging shortly after I got away from my family. We weren’t fast enough to beat my mother, but we
have gotten my brothers to agree that if they do end up with my trust, they’ll route their portions to
Jace, who will get it to me. I would have thought someone would have blown their bullshit wide open
by now, but I should know better than to underestimate Diane Anderson,” I say, ending with a
resigned sigh.
“How much money are we talking about?” Lucas asks curious and incredulous in equal
measure.
I shrug. “Seven, maybe eight figures, I think. It’s been growing since I was born. I can’t touch
it without alerting my mother, so I haven’t checked it since I moved. I wanted to use it to start my own
wedding planning business after college but…”
I trail off as my heart sinks. I haven’t thought about the dreams I used to have before my life
blew up in my face nearly five years ago. I didn’t realize then how cruel people could truly be. I
know better now, but I still wish I hadn’t had to learn the hard way.
“So, if you go back home, by hook or by crook, you’ll obviously be declared not missing and
you’ll get your trust. Why haven’t you tried before?” Alexandra pushes after a moment of thoughtful
silence.
“Because if I go home, there’s a good chance that my family will do everything in their power
to force me to stay. I’ve been safe as long as my family couldn’t find me. Even now, I think they’re
waiting for me to come home willingly, as kidnapping’s still a crime.”
“Holding you hostage is a crime, too, though,” Lucas adds.
I feel my shoulders tense as I try to find the courage to voice my worst fears. Mateo and Rhett
move closer, the only ones who know how desperate Darren was to trap me, and the lengths he went
to in his attempts. Their warmth and scents help to keep me grounded, and not fall into the roiling pit
of anxiety in my stomach.
“Before I left, Darren tried to force my body into heat and bond with me. Based on everything
I know and what you’ve said, I’m fairly certain my mother has him working with her to get my trust.
Once I’m bonded, my assets also belong to my partner, and if Darren could make me his, then he’d get
my money, and by extension, my mother would as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s still their
plan.”
I force the words out, trying to keep my hands and voice from shaking. Rhett’s low snarl at the
mention of harm coming to me settles something in my gut. But I’m surprised to hear Alexandra’s
growl, to see the fury etched in harsh lines on her gorgeous face.
“Seth is just enough of a bastard to not care about the how or the why or the consequences, so
long as he gets what he wants,” Mateo says, tone low and dark.
Mateo and Alexandra share a significant look, but I can’t tell what unspoken words fly
between them. She looks to Rhett and then to Lucas, speaking with their eyes. Each moment that
passes makes the typhoon of worry spin faster and grow wider. At long last, Alexandra looks to me,
her hazel eyes searching my face for something. Whatever it is, she must find it as she nods a little to
herself and squares her shoulders.
“When is your next heat cycle?” she asks, voice startlingly gentle.
I shake my head a little and blink in confusion. “Late October. Why?”
Alexandra lets out a long exhale before continuing. “The best protection we can offer you is a
bond. Right now, Mat and I aren’t in a place where we could do that for you, but Rhett—”
My heart lurches, my mind almost not believing what I’m hearing. “No.”
She stops speaking at my firm interruption, brow knitting in confusion. “Why not?” she asks,
sounding nearly as baffled as I feel.
I scoff, trying not to be offended. Alexandra and Mateo of all people should understand that
bonds aren’t something to be taken lightly.
“First, we’ve known each other for less than six months. Rhett, I love you, but I’m just not
ready,” I start, looking at him as I speak and squeezing his hand.
His blue eyes are bright, and even if his face says that he disagrees, he nods anyway. He’d do
anything to protect me, and that knowledge alone gives me the confidence to continue.
“It’s not that I wouldn’t consider it in the future, but trying to bond right now would be
extremely risky, and it’s not a chance I’m willing to take with the wedding being so close to the start
of my heat,” I explain.
“What do you mean?” Lucas asks.
“With my birth control implant doing most of the work in regulating my cycle, I would need to
get it taken out basically now so my body would have time enough to start producing the right
hormones that would allow a bond to form in the first place. Darren had no qualms with trying to
force my heat in the past, and I don’t want to take the risk of him actually succeeding.”
My voice is steadier than I thought it would be, considering how close to the topic of my
trauma we are getting in this discussion. But having Mateo’s arms around me, and Rhett’s hand tight
around mine, and Alexandra’s judgement-free expression looking at me helps in ways I’d never
considered possible before.
“Would you consider joining a pack if you think it would help?” Alexandra asks, picking her
words carefully.
At first, I don’t understand her hesitation. Joining a pack would help, as it would remove my
father as the prime alpha in my life. He wouldn’t be able to force me back home if Darren tried to use
the business connection between our fathers as leverage. It would also make it harder for my mother
to keep up her missing person story. But as the silence stretches, the implications of her question hit
me like a Mack truck.
“You want me? To—”
“Join Pack St. Clair, yes,” Alexandra finishes.
I look around to Mateo and Rhett and Lucas, finding similar expressions of hope and
excitement. My head spins as I consider what she’s asking. I’d be part of this little family, an equal
among these incredible, talented, successful people. It’s too much, too soon. I love Rhett and I love
Mateo, but they couldn’t possibly mean it. I want it but I can’t accept something so profound when
I’ve brought nothing but trouble to their door.
“I don’t want to be a burden. If you’re just doing this because I’m in trouble, then I can’t—”
“Love, we’ve been talking about this for a while. That’s why Lex has been looking into your
background. You mean so much to me, to us, and we want you to be one of us, truly,” Rhett says,
drawing my attention to him.
His eyes shine with all of the love and warmth I can hear in his words, and my heart aches.
His words are full of the honesty I’ve grown to love and respect, but my mind can’t believe him. How
could someone as good and amazing as Rhett want me?
“I want to show you something,” Alexandra says suddenly.
My head whips around and I watch her get to her feet. She holds out a hand for me to take, and
I slide my palm cautiously into hers. Her skin is soft and warm, and her fingers fit perfectly into the
spaces between mine as she threads them together. I let her pull me from my stool and lead me down
the stairs to the basement. Before they disappear from sight, I catch Rhett, Lucas and Mateo sharing a
hopeful look, but I lose sight of them before I can read into it more.
Alexandra leads me down the carpeted stairs to a hall that extends to the right and left, and I
let her guide me down the hall to the right. My tours of the house have excluded this level, and I gasp
softly as the hallway opens up into a lounge space. There’s a pool table and a wet bar off to the right,
and a set of squishy-looking couches arranged in front of a TV that might be bigger than my bed.
There are two sets of French doors that lead out onto a patio, and I see sunlight glittering off the water
of the pool beyond that. But Alexandra leads me to a plain door to the left of the patio exit, opening it
and stepping inside.
The room beyond is small compared to the other rooms I’ve seen in the house. There’s a bay
window to the right of the door that looks out over the pool area, with a seat wide enough to hold a
king-sized mattress. The walls are white, but there are some paint swatches in varying shades of blue
and gray on one of them. There’s another door open to a bathroom opposite the window, and tasteful
wall sconces providing soft, ambient light.
“What is this?” I ask, voice echoing slightly in the empty space.
“When Rhett designed the house, he had it marked as a den. We’ve used it for an office, a
guest room, and even a playroom at one time or another,” Alexandra says, tone neutral.
“What is it now?” I rephrase, still looking around the cozy space with confusion.
“We’d like it to be your nest, Lydia.”
My head snaps around to her, eyes wide and jaw slack. I hadn’t dared believe their words, but
it’s clear from the state of this room that they have been considering their offer for a while. Possibly
before Seth made his reappearance. I try to get my mind to work, to say something in response to this
incredible offer, but I can’t get my mind and mouth to communicate. Alexandra still has one of my
hands, and she turns to face me more fully, taking the other.
“I know that this is a lot, and I know that it’s sudden, but you have to know how the boys feel
about you. I don’t want to speak for them where feelings are concerned, but as the prime alpha of this
pack, I know that you are right for us. Having you as a member of this pack, this family, is not a
burden but a privilege. We will have time to get the details right, to make sure you’re as comfortable
with this as possible, but it would mean so much to us… it would mean so much to me if you would
accept.”
As I stare at Alexandra’s face, I see the way her brow furrows as she talks, the emotion
flashing in her eyes as she doesn’t look away from me. I wait for my instincts to warn me away from
this, to tell me that this isn’t real, or that it’s too good to be true. But all I feel as I think about a future
in this pack is a warm rightness in my heart. Like this is the place I’m meant to be, the people I’m
meant to share my life with. I can picture it, waking up between Rhett and Lucas, driving to work with
Mateo, having coffee with Alexandra on the weekends. It all seems so… right.
“I’ve never gotten a tattoo before,” I admit with a shy smile.
Alexandra is beautiful when she’s sad, or serious, or even angry. But seeing her smile,
watching her entire face light up with undimmed joy is otherworldly and it takes my breath away.
Before I can react, her laughter rings like church bells in my ears, her slender arms wrapping me in a
tight embrace. I feel my face flush as I return the hug and breathe in her mulled wine and citrus scent
until I feel drunk on it.
“She said yes?” I hear Lucas ask from the doorway.
Alexandra and I part and turn to see him leaning in the open door. My smile is watery with
happy tears, and I nod. Lucas lets out a whoop and crashes into Alexandra and me, gathering us up in
a fierce hug. I scent more than I see Rhett and Mateo as they enter the room, feeling the weight of them
as they join the huddle in the center of my future nesting space.
I close my eyes and let the combined warmth and scent of them fill my senses. Lucas is going
on about decor ideas for my room, but I lose myself in the mixture of cloves and oranges, lemonade
and grass, whiskey and dark chocolate.
The scents of my friends, and protectors.
My new family.
My pack.
 Forty-One
Lydia

The next two weeks seem to disappear before I even know what happened. Between work and
preparations for my official entrance into Pack St. Clair, I hardly find a moment to myself. Rhett takes
me shopping for furniture for my nest, letting me build the space of my dreams without once blinking
at the staggering cost of it all. Mateo takes me out to all manner of fun and interesting places in
Everton, showing me a side of the city I didn’t know existed. Lucas balances their outings with time
spent in my apartment and in the pack house, pestering me to show him how to make all the traditional
Southern comfort foods I learned from my MawMaw Anderson and Grandma Fletcher. Alexandra
steals me away from the boys as often as she can, working with me and their lawyer, Ted Calhoun, on
the legal documents that I would sign in front of a judge after the Fourth of July weekend.
My entire life, I’d been told that joining a pack was the ultimate goal for an omega. That my
purpose was to find an alpha to take care of me, to protect me, and I would be his to command and
serve. But Pack St. Clair flew in the face of all the things I was told a pack should be. Alexandra
made it clear from the moment we started negotiations that my wants and needs were just as important
as theirs. I was under no obligation to bond with any member of the pack, and that it was entirely my
choice when or if that step would happen. She understood my need to be independent and was glad
that I wanted to keep working at Wila’s even after I joined the pack and gained access to their
considerable finances. Alexandra had been perfectly transparent about exactly how much the pack
was worth from the outset, and maybe a different omega would have been happy to gain access to
bank accounts with that many zeros, but it only made me nervous and even more reluctant to accept
their extravagant gifts. Money never mattered to me when I fell in love with these alphas, and I was
determined to make sure that it never did.
Overall, the assembly of my nest has gone remarkably smooth. The windows surrounding the
bed space have been frosted over, and we have hung blackout blinds and curtains over them, granting
me the privacy I crave. The walls near the bed are a navy blue textured wallpaper that I could not
stop touching in the store, with the rest of the walls painted a complementary shade of blue to match.
The frame of the bed is a light gray, almost white, and there is built-in storage for extra bedding under
the platform where the mattress will sit. A vanity and stool are against the wall to the left of the door
with a chest of drawers, all matching the same light gray as the paint. We have replaced the wall
sconces with coordinating fixtures and hooked up to a dimmer switch, allowing for more control over
the light level.
On the evening of July 1st, the day before my 27th birthday, I’m down in my future nest, curled
up in a blanket on the expanded window seat frame, watching Rhett and Lucas bicker over the
directions of the flat pack shelving unit they’re attempting to put together. Rhett has a master’s degree
in structural engineering, and he’s been stumped by IKEA. It’s the last piece of major furniture, with
the notable exception of the custom mattress. That would be delivered tomorrow, and then my nesting
could truly begin. I have to admit that I am looking forward to it, even if I still have to work on my
birthday. I would be off Thursday through Monday, as the shop would be closed for the holiday
weekend while Gabby and Wila are out of town for a reunion. I would need to pop in and water the
plants once a day, but otherwise, I’d be free to spend the time with my pack.
I smile a little to myself at the thought. My pack. The warm feeling in my chest at the thought
of how I’d get to spend the rest of my life with these amazing, generous, selfless people spreads
throughout my entire body until I shiver with delight under my blanket. Rhett notices, because he
rarely misses a single twitch or blink, and smirks at my dopey, love-struck smile.
“What’s on your mind, love?” he asks casually, setting down the vexing instructions.
“Just happy. Excited to go to court on Monday,” I reply with a contented sigh.
“You have no idea what we have in store for you once we’ve made you ours officially,” Rhett
says, voice dropping to a deep, sultry purr by the end.
I shiver for a whole different reason. “I look forward to it, sir.”
Rhett growls, both challenge and warning combined. I giggle and pull my phone out from
within the folds of my blanket. I blink a little at the time. It’s nearly midnight, and I still had to pack
for the weekend.
“I should head home.” I sigh, shoulders slumping.
“Or you could just stay,” Lucas mutters, brow furrowed in concentration as he works on
tightening a screw.
“I left all my stuff for the weekend at my apartment. And driving to Wila’s from here is kind of
a nightmare,” I scoff, rolling my eyes.
Lucas grumbles something I don’t catch, but it makes Rhett growl low in his throat. I shake my
head, sighing a little. Lucas was the only one who had a problem with me still working full time for
Wila. It’s not that he didn’t want me to have a job; he just wanted me to find a job within the pack
businesses. I wasn’t opposed to working for the St. Clair Foundation, but I didn’t want it handed to
me. If I took a position within the company, it would be on my terms.
“I’ll walk you out, love,” Rhett says, turning away from Lucas’s pouting.
I smile and detangle myself from my cozy cocoon. Rhett unfolds from his position on the floor,
and my heart does a little flip at the graceful movement. For someone as big as he is, Rhett’s grace
and coordination are extraordinary. I slide my hand into his outstretched palm, and I let him lead me
up the stairs and out the front door to my parked car. It looks extra shabby in the driveway of such an
incredible house, but I can’t afford to replace it. Rhett pulls me to a stop before I can open the
driver’s door, turning me back to face him. I tilt my head curiously as I find him staring at his watch. I
start to speak, but he holds up a finger, cutting me off. After several long minutes, he finally looks up
at me.
“Happy birthday, my love,” Rhett says, lifting his hands to my jaw, his long fingers sliding
into the hair on the back of my head.
I smile, blushing slightly. Rhett’s blue eyes sparkle in the light from the house, and his smile
makes my lower belly clench. He leans down, slanting his mouth over mine in a tender kiss. My hands
find his chest, clenching into fists in the fabric of his shirt. When he nips at my bottom lip, I let my
tongue meet his, tasting the dark chocolate and whiskey flavor of him. I whine, pressing forward and
wrapping my arms around his neck as I stretch onto the tips of my toes. Rhett growls at my eagerness,
pressing me back into the side of my car. I can feel his hard length pressing into my stomach through
his jeans, and I fight the urge to preen at how much of an effect I have on him.
Rhett pulls away just as my head starts to spin, leaving me dizzy and almost drunk on his
scent. I pull my lips into a small smile, eyes still closed as I bask in the rush of his touch. Rhett
chuckles, brushing a light peck to the top of my nose.
“Drive safe, little one. I’ll see you tomorrow after work,” Rhett hums, leaning down to nuzzle
into my hair and neck.
I nod, burying my nose in his collarbone. I breathe as much of his scent into my lungs as I can,
holding him close.
“I love you,” Rhett breathes, kissing the side of my neck lightly.
“I love you, too,” I whisper back, squeezing tight before finally letting him go.
Rhett smiles down at me, stepping away even as he stares at my lips. I want to give in, to just
stay and endure the extra-long commute and traffic, but it was just one night. I’d have the rest of my
life to spend here. So, even as my heart twists, I start the car and carefully pull out of the driveway
and onto the street. I see Rhett in my rearview mirror, standing there watching me go until I have to
turn the corner and the packhouse is out of sight.
The streets are quiet, and I leave the radio off, just enjoying the peace that midnight driving
brings. The buildings are dark, a few bars still open, with a few patrons spilling onto the sidewalk.
It’s still a few hours from the county cutoff time, and it’s a Tuesday, so the streets are relatively
subdued.
I’m mentally running through a checklist of all the things I need to pack when my phone buzzes
in the cupholder, screen lighting up with a new message. A quick glance down, and I don’t
immediately recognize the number. I’m about to ignore it when the screen lights up again, vibrating
with the incoming message. And then it buzzes again. And again. I stop at a red light, and my curiosity
gets the better of me. Swiping the unlock pattern, I pull open the messages.
The first message is a photo, grainy and dark, and I almost can’t make out what it’s supposed
to be until I open it fully. My heart drops as I see Mateo’s SUV, parked in a dark lot with two people
pressed against the passenger side door, lips locked in an intense kiss. I recognize Mateo’s tattoos,
and my purple one-shoulder top. This is from our night at Freddy’s before heading to Wickland
House.
My heart races as I pull up the next message. It’s another photo, this one taken during the day.
I’m standing outside Wila’s helping Rhett load up one of Alexandra’s flower orders. His hand is on
my face, thumb stroking my check. Our eyes are locked on each other, both of our faces mirror
expressions of love and heat.
The third photo is one of Alexandra and me exiting the St. Clair Foundation offices, laughing
together. Our hands are linked, and I can see the same expression of love and heat on my face in this
photo as I wore in the last. This photo was taken only a few days ago, as I remember the green shirt
Alexandra wore, and how she told me she bought it special to match my eyes.
The fourth photo makes my stomach drop, and I choke back a gag. It’s grainy, clearly taken
with zoom from a distance, but I recognize the windows of my apartment. Through them, I can see
myself entwined with Mateo in my bed. I’m naked, head thrown back as I ride Mateo, his face twisted
in pleasure, hands gripping my hips. Someone had photographed me having sex, in my apartment, in
my nest.
As I stare in mute horror at the photo, my phone buzzes in my hand with another incoming text.
My hands shake as I open it, vision blurry as tears burn my eyes. It’s a couple lines of text and the
words make all moisture in my mouth and throat vanish.

Unknown: Happy birthday, petal. Looks like you’ve been busy, naughty omega. I’ll be seeing
you soon, and you can apologize properly.

The light has turned green, but I can’t move. I stare at the words, my heartbeat pounding in my
ears. He knows. He knows where I live. He knows about my pack. He’s found me.
I look up, my wide eyes darting around the empty intersection as my heart beats out of control.
My skin crawls, and I scratch at my arms. I need to get somewhere safe, away from everyone. But
even my nest isn’t secure anymore. I pant, my mind racing. I grip the wheel, trying to get control of
myself long enough to get off the road. I need to call Rhett, or Alexandra. I need my pack. But I need
my things. But is my apartment safe anymore? What if he’s there, waiting for me?
I take my foot off the brake and start to move forward into the intersection, the light still green.
Everything feels like I’m moving through sand, all sound muffled. I stare straight ahead, focusing on
the next crossroad. I just need to make it to the next crossroad. There, I crossed it. Now the next. I’m
moving slowly, well under the speed limit, but I can’t make myself go faster. I breathe through the
panic clogging my chest, my tears flowing freely as I focus on getting from one intersection to the
next. I can’t think beyond that right now. Just need to get to my apartment, then I get my bag, call Rhett,
and go back to the packhouse.
I’m crossing through a major intersection, my hands white knuckled on the steering wheel. I’m
counting my breathing out loud, my voice a hoarse whisper in the darkness of my car. Suddenly, a
loud blaring horn cuts through the night, followed by the squealing of tires. I whip my head to my left,
my eyes blinded by bright headlights barreling toward me. I close my eyes against the light, hearing
the crunch of metal on metal and shattering glass moments before I’m thrown against my seatbelt.
There’s a blinding stab of pain, an explosion that crushes my chest, a second crunch, and I jerk to a
stop. The world spins, and I only hear the long drone of a car horn before I lose consciousness.
 Want more?
Stalk Thora on social media, sign up for exclusive bonus content, hear about future beta and ARC
opportunities, and much more!

linktr.ee/thorawoodsauthor

The story continues in...

Lavender and Lightning

Pack Saint Clair Book 2

Coming Spring 2022

 Acknowledgement
Wow. We did it. We're here at the end of my first ever published novel. If you've taken the time to
read this far, first of all, thank you.

I'd like to start by thanking the incredible group of people who helped me along this publishing
journey: Rachel at Romance Refined; Rhonda Merwath, my developmental editor; Kay Springsteen,
my copy editor; and Hope Brown, my intrepid PA. I'd also like to thank all of the betas that have
given their invaluable feedback.

A special thank you goes out to my writing buddy, publishing partner, and friend, Merri Bright. We
connected on Facebook and bonded over our shared struggle as baby authors publishing omegaverse
novels. Her feedback and advice has meant so much to me, and I cannot thank her enough.

And last, I'd like to thank everyone across the internet that has supported me on my journey. From
those first few readers on Archive of Our Own, to the most recent member of Thora's Pack House,
having this amazing group behind me means the world. I'd like to give a special shout out to Lillian
Lark, without whom I never would have discovered how sweet the omegaverse can be.

And last, I'd like to thank my husband. He may not have understood why I needed to write about
people with debunked wolf-like traits, but he's supported me every step of the way. Through the
celebrations of follower and sales goals, and through the tears when it just felt too hard, that man has
been there with me. And I'll be forever grateful.
 About The Author
Thora Woods
Thora Woods is a lifelong writer, reader, and creator. Born in New Orleans, LA, she began her
writing journey in her pre-teens, growing her skills at SUNY Fredonia in their Creative Writing
program. Lilacs and Leather is Thora's first published work. Thora lives in Western New York with
her two dogs, Fritter and Pepper, two cats, Impala and Hoagie, and her husband.