Chapter 12
Lark
I shove the door shut and press my back flat against it. I just let two alphas I’ve never met help me through a heat spike. And, wow.
Wow!
I sit with that for a second. Then I pick up my phone because there is exactly one person on earth who deserves to hear about this immediately.
Cammie has texted three times this afternoon. I hit the phone icon and call her. There’s way too much to say over text.
“Tell me everything,” she says by way of a greeting.
My legs are still too shaky to hold me properly. I flip down the toilet lid and sit.
“I found my scent matches.”
She emits an earsplitting squeal. “OH. MY. GOD! MATCHES! Like multiple? You’ve been messaging your scent-sensitive mates and you didn’t even know?”
I grimace. “One of them.”
“Let me guess. CoffeeGuy. Please god tell me you are not matched to the one with the Princess Peach fetish.”
I giggle. “It was CoffeeGuy. But he’s not happy about it.”
“What?” I hold the phone away from my ear. I’ll have hearing damage before this call ends.
“Tell me everything,” she repeats. “Don’t leave anything out.”
And so I tell her. About how CoffeeGuy left. How I don’t even know his name. How my omega went into total berserker mode and sent me into the most horrific heat spike of my life. How two alphas showed up to help me.
“They’re his packmates?” she asks.
“I—I think so. It’s hard to remember. My omega was in serious control of the situation.”
“They have to be, right? How else would they even know to come down to meet you?”
I don’t even have time to process that before she steamrolls ahead.
“Okay, I need to know everything. How was it? What do they look like? What do they smell like?" She pauses to catch her breath. "What are their names?"
Names!
“I have to tell you,” I butt in, “about the big one who, you know, did the majority of the work.”
Dead silence for two seconds, then, "I'm sorry. The majority of the WORK?"
I bite my lip. "He was very thorough."
She loses it completely. “Tell me more about this big one.”
I resist an eye roll. “I’m being serious. He asked my name. Called me ‘little bird’.”
She’s really laughing now. “That’s perfect. Lark, his little bird. Did you answer him?”
“No! I was so embarrassed that I let a stranger do that to me. I hightailed it out of there.”
Cammie’s still amused, but she’s doing her best to give best friend advice. “In your defense, you didn’t exactly have time for introductions. Biology took over. They’ll get it. You’re an omega. They are alphas. It’s normal.”
A knock sounds at the door.
“Little bird, are you okay? Do you need us again?”
The voice is deep and rough. It slides right down my spine.
My omega purrs in contentment.
“He’s at the door,” I whisper shout into the phone.
Cammie laughs. “Considering you’re the most bad-ass omega I know, you spook at the weirdest shit.”
“But what about CoffeeGuy? If they are pack members, what should I do?”
“What would Boss Bitch Lark do?”
“She’d—” I’m interrupted by a rattle of the door handle.
The deep voice calls though the wood. “Little bird, unless you say no, I’m coming in. Five, four…”
“She’d what?” Cammie prompts.
“She’d crunch the numbers and write a proposal?”
She makes a buzzer sound. “Try again.”
I sigh. “She would own the space and make him get on board or get out. Boss Bitch Lark doesn’t take no for an answer. Not from suppliers. Not from investors. And definitely not from a scent-matched alpha with commitment issues.”
“Ding, ding, ding,” she sing-songs. “Now get out there and own that pack, with or without CoffeeGuy.”
A laugh escapes before I can stop it. “I love you, you know that, right?”
“I know, babe.” And then she clicks off the line.
I rise and move to the door. My fingers curl around the knob as the deep voice says, “One.”
I take a steadying breath and then open the door. The room is dark compared to the brightness of the bathroom, and I blink a few times before my eyes focus. When they adjust, I see them.
I understand why my omega lost her mind. The one with the deep voice has a body to match. He’s tall, but not overwhelmingly so. His shoulders, though? Wide as the fucking door. He was chiseled from a mountain. No way he was born to a normal human woman.
He has olive skin and dark brown hair that perfectly matches his short beard.
His eyes are dark, too. So dark I can hardly see the pupils.
My gaze drags down his body. He’s thickly muscled from his neck down to his calves.
His large arms are covered in ink that disappears under his rolled sleeves and reappears at his collar.
His thick forearms taper down into beefy hands.
Memories of those hands currently have my omega rolling lazily on her back, begging for a belly scratch.
I lick my lips and fight the urge to lean in and nuzzle him.
I’m greeted with an overwhelming rush of whiskey and honey, followed closely by chocolate and hazelnut, warm enough to make me think of brunch on Sunday mornings.
My omega pulls my attention to my other mate.
“Hi, beautiful.” He smiles shyly.
My breath catches. This one is tall, even for an alpha.
Long and lean, but strong with broad shoulders.
I remember how tightly he held me to his body.
His dark blonde hair is overgrown, and it curls over his forehead.
He brushes it from his face before straightening the dark-rimmed glasses that perch on his nose.
I look beyond his lenses to his eyes. The room is dark, but even so—green. Startlingly, unfairly green.
Before I can stop myself, I walk into his arms. They encircle me and a purr kicks from his chest. I sink into it.
My omega is desperate to mark him. I pull back as far as his tight hold will allow.
I unbutton his shirt until I can place my cheek against his bare chest. His purr kicks up a notch until it's a dull roar.
My omega goes boneless. I don't blame her.
My other alpha moves behind me. He places his hands, possessively on my hips, before scent marking my face and neck. Then, he covers me in slow, worshipping kisses.
“My mate.”
“Our mate,” my giant corrects.
“Ours,” the mountain agrees.