Chapter 26 #2
I lean down so my mouth is near her ear, my beard grazing her skin. “Keep doing that, little bird,” I murmur, “and we’re leaving before the date begins.”
Her shoulders shake with laughter.
Bossy little omega. Independent as hell.
I guide her arms forward. “Bring it back,” I say. “Then throw straight.”
She does exactly what I showed her. The axe spins once through the air.
Thunk.
It sticks in the board just outside the center rings.
I huff out a quiet, “Beginner’s luck.”
She turns around, eyes bright with excitement. “Oh, please. That was skill.”
I quirk an eyebrow, and she blushes.
“Luck, then. But athletic luck.”
I laugh. That’s probably closer to the truth.
I grab another axe and step up beside her. One throw. Bull’s eye. The blade sinks deep into the wood with a satisfying crack.
“You’re showing off.”
I lean in close. So close my breath is on her neck. “I never miss.”
It’s not entirely true. But close enough.
I pull the axe free and hand it back to her. “Again.”
She throws. This one lands a little farther out, but still solid.
“See?” she says. “Natural talent.”
“You 're athletic,” I say with a shrug. “Makes a difference.”
She lines up another throw. “How often do you come here?”
“Every once in a while.”
Another throw. Closer this time.
“It’s a good way to blow off steam.”
Her mouth curves slightly. “Saint ever come with you?”
She does a good job playing casual about it, but I know Saint hurt her. Hell, he hurt me. This should be the happiest time in our relationship. Finding our omega means we have a chance to bond fully. An omega will tie us all together. And he’s blowing it.
For himself. For us.
“Used to,” I say.
She throws again.
Thunk.
Touching the red this time. Not bad.
She steps back from the line, brushing her hands together.
“How’s he doing?” I ask coolly. “Is he… treating you okay?”
Her expression softens a little. “Better,” she says. “Not… friendly exactly. But not as angry as that first day.”
That tracks.
“He makes my coffee every morning,” she adds.
I glance over at her. “Your coffee?”
“Exactly the way I like it,” she says. “Brown sugar latte.”
A small smile tugs at my mouth, but I don’t say anything. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case it takes him longer than either of us think it might. Hell, I don’t want to get my hopes up, either.
“But he’s still distant,” she continues. “Half the time I don’t even know where he is when he’s home. He comes back from the station, eats with the pack, and then disappears.”
“His coffee kitchen,” I say before letting the axe flow from my hands. Dead center.
“His what?”
“Coffee kitchen.”
She blinks.
“He has a whole room attached to the back of my workshop,” I explain. “Roasting equipment. Storage. Whole setup.”
“I didn’t see that.”
“You wouldn’t,” I say. “You can’t see it from the back door. You have to go around the building.”
Her brows knit slightly as she processes that. “He roasts his own beans?”
“Has for years.”
She looks impressed. Then thoughtful. “Why didn’t anyone tell me that?” There's something underneath the question. Not accusation. More like hunger. She wants to know him
I shrug. “It never occurred to me. I guess I took for granted that you knew.”
I hand her the axe, making sure to let my fingers linger on hers for a moment. "Sometimes it feels like you've already been with us forever."
She bites her bottom lip as she studies the target board for a moment. “Do you think he’ll come around?”
“Yeah.”
The tension in her shoulders tells me that she’s not sure I’m right. It lands like a fucking dagger.
The realization hits me a second later. I don’t get to be happy with Lark if Lark isn’t happy. And Lark won’t be happy until Saint gets his head out of his ass and joins the pack in loving her completely.
I meet her eyes. “I’ll make sure he does.” My voice is calm, but the promise behind it is solid as stone.
“I’m not letting him miss out on this.” I mean it. This pack means everything to me. Lark. Graham. Even Saint, stubborn bastard that he is.
Her gaze softens just a little.
I jerk my chin toward the bar. “Another round?”
By the time I get back to our lane, the place is even louder than before. A band is tuning instruments in the corner. It battles with the songs playing through the speakers. People are cheering loudly at a birthday party a few lanes over.
I’ve got our beer and hard cider in one hand, and a bowl of bar mix in the other. Then I see him. An alpha standing too damn close to my omega. He’s leaning toward her. One hand braced on the table. Lark has her palm flat against his chest, holding him back.
She’s not panicking. Just managing him.
I would laugh, except for the fact that she’s my omega and he is too fucking close.
I set the bowl down slowly on the table. The guy’s scent is strong. My alpha doesn’t like that.
“Is there a problem here?” My voice comes out calm. Inside my alpha is tearing at his restraints.
The guy glances over his shoulder at me. His eyes flick down once, taking in my size, the bottles in my hand, the way I’m standing. He smirks anyway. Dumb motherfucker.
“No problem,” he says. “Just asking if this little omega needs some pointers.”
My grip tightens around the bottle. I step forward and hand Lark her cider without looking away from him. “I’ve got it covered.”
The guy hesitates. Just for a second. But I see it. There’s a moment where he thinks about pushing it.
I reach out and pull Lark against me, my arm wrapping around her waist automatically. Then I let my alpha step forward. The growl that rolls up my chest is low and deep. It fills the space between us.
Dominance spills off me. The other alpha feels it immediately.
His smirk disappears. “Relax, dude,” he says, lifting his hands a little. “Didn’t realize she was claimed.”
I don’t answer. The rumble in my chest deepens instead.
The guy takes a step back. “Alright,” he mutters. “Chill bro.” He disappears into the crowd.
My shoulders stay tight. My alpha is pacing just under my skin, furious and possessive and way too close to the surface.
Mine.
The word repeats in my head like a drumbeat.
I force out a breath.
“Silas,” Lark says softly.
I look down at her. “We need to go,” I tell her.
My voice is rougher now. “My alpha’s going a little insane.”
Instead of pulling away, she slides closer. “It’s okay, mountain man,” she murmurs. She leans forward, lips grazing mine. “I like your alpha.”
The words settle something wild inside me. Not completely. Not by a long shot. But enough to dull the edges.
She turns in my arms so we’re facing each other.
My hands settle on her hips automatically.
Hers rest on my shoulders. Up close, the size difference between us hits me, not for the first time.
I’m huge next to her. Broad shoulders. Heavy frame.
Built like the damn mountain she always teases me about.
But Lark isn't fragile. She's tall enough that I don't have to bend much, solid enough that when I pull her closer she pushes back. She feels real.
My palms slide down to the firm curve of her ass and I pull her tight against me.
Our bodies fit together like they were built for it.
Her leg slips between mine. Then she shifts her hips forward, settling her weight against my thigh.
The pressure drags slowly along the hard muscle there, like she’s testing it.
Her scent spikes, sweet caramel sharpened by her salty arousal. My hands tighten on her a fraction more. Fuck, she’s perfect when she goes soft like this.
Her mouth moves to my ear. “Silas,” she whispers.
My grip tightens.
Then she says the one thing guaranteed to finish wrecking what little control I’ve got left.
“Take me home.”