CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - AXEL
We all scramble out of the Jeep, but Birdie hangs back, looking up at me with wide eyes. “This is where we’re staying?”
“Yeah. It will need a little airing out, but it’s comfortable.” Birdie blinks at me and I nod at the side gate. “Come on. We can go through here. It will give you the full effect.”
By full effect, I mean a view that makes you feel like you’ve tripped and stumbled into an endless expanse of blue.
As we reach the back of the house, Birdie sucks in a sharp breath, her eyes so wide, I can see the gold ring around her irises.
“When you said it was on the coast, I didn’t think you meant the ocean was literally on your doorstep. ”
I lean a hip against the boundary wall, surrounded by native lavender, jasmine, and bittersweet memories of my childhood.
My mom died when I was six, and after my dad and his packmate went off the rails from grief, I spent a lot of time being shuttled between my relatives.
“It’s a view I never take for granted, but it’s nice seeing it through new eyes. ”
She takes a hesitant step forward, her hand twitching towards the wooden gate that separates our backyard from the rocky path to the beach.
“You want to go sink your toes in?” I ask her, lifting the latch.
“You’ll have to take your boots off, though.
Only way to enjoy your first beach walk is in bare feet. ”
She snatches her hand back, her throat bobbing as she swallows. I’m not sure what’s going on in her head, but I can smell a sour edge to her scent. “Can I…? Can I use the bathroom first?”
I glance behind me to find Hog and Colt watching us from the porch. They both seem to recognize that she needs space better than I do, and I feel a flash of annoyance. I’m meant to be the pack alpha, but my instincts are all over the place when it comes to this omega.
“Yeah, of course,” I tell her, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “I can show you around and then you can come and go as you please.”
Once we mount the porch and head inside, Birdie seems to forget her need for the bathroom, drifting across the main living area to study the wooden mantle above the massive stone fireplace.
It’s the centerpiece of the house and is lined with framed pictures and some of the crafty knickknacks my grandfather’s pack added to the place.
He was a retired captain in the Corps, but his omega, Louisa, was an artist, and was always collecting driftwood, stones, and shells that could be made into decorative pieces.
The room itself is twice the size of the cabin’s living area, with exposed ceiling beams, polished floorboards, and large picture windows that make it feel even more spacious.
There’s a lot of built-in cabinetry and shelving, which Hog always stops to admire, and a low-backed leather chesterfield that Colt instantly tosses himself on like a bag of unwashed laundry.
“This is amazing,” Birdie says softly, touching a finger to one of the framed pictures. “Why doesn’t anyone live here?”
“My Pop passed away a few years ago and the rest of his pack moved east.”
“Oh.” It’s a sad, brittle sound and I instantly regret my blunt reply. “His omega, Louisa, was born in Maine. She’s taken over her family’s art gallery.”
“She’s an artist, too?”
“Yeah. That’s one of hers,” I reply, nodding at a pale green glass pelican on the mantle, “but she loved making things out of bits and pieces she found on the beach.”
“Do you like art, Birdie?” Colt pipes up from the couch. “Most of Charlie’s supplies are at our place in Santa Rosa, but we could get them shipped here.”
Birdie turns to look at me, tension in her shoulders. “You guys live in Santa Rosa? What about the cabin?”
“We have an apartment in the city where we usually live,” Colt goes on, “but the cabin’s a good place to get away from things.”
Like when we’re mourning a lost mate.
Colt’s face clouds at the unspoken truth, but I’m watching Birdie, whose gaze drifts to Hog. He’s leaning against a sideboard, watching her like he’s trying to memorize her features. “So, you’ll be leaving soon.”
“No,” he says softly. “Like I said, where you go, I go. If you like it here, we stay here.”
Birdie’s shoulders relax an inch, but some of the sparkle has gone out of her eyes.
Colt, finally sensing her mood, leaps off the couch and pads over to her.
“Want to come pick out a room? There are five, but one is Louisa’s art studio.
I think you might like the one at the end.
It has the best view of the ocean and there’s a lilac tree right outside your window. ”
Birdie nods and we all troop down the corridor to the bedroom at the end.
I can feel Hog’s anxiety through the bond, and I push a little reassurance his way.
From the way their scents are mingling after last night, Birdie’s already feeling a lot more comfortable with him.
She’s still closed off and skittish, but who can blame her after the shit she’s been through?
Which reminds me that I need to talk to the general, not least of all about our next mission. Because if he’s complicit in Birdie’s abuse, everything changes. I don’t care what I have to do, or how many lines I have to cross, he’ll pay for sending Peak after her.
“Hey,” Hog says quietly at my side. “You smell like a storm brewing. You want to clamp down on whatever you’re wrestling with so Birdie can settle in a little?”
I frown at his curt tone, but he’s right. Making her feel at home is the most important thing right now.
“What do you think?” Colt asks, and I watch Birdie drift across Louisa’s old bedroom, her scent trailing behind her like a sugar-coated promise.
The room is the smallest of the bedrooms in use, but it’s been decorated with an artist’s eye, and even I can appreciate the way Louisa mirrored the view through the window.
The antique brass bed is covered in crisp white and pale green linen, but the nightstand and dresser are a sandy pine, and sea blue accents fill the room.
It’s definitely the most calming room in the house, and I feel a surge of satisfaction as Birdie gives Colt a small smile. “It’s beautiful. Was it Charlie’s?”
“No, he slept with Axel most nights. It’s the biggest room…” He must feel something through our pack bond, because he casts a panicked look in my direction. “Anyway, your brother didn’t come here much. He preferred city life.”
Birdie nods, but her smile has dimmed at the edges. Thankfully, Hog steps into the breach. “Want to come sit in the sunroom?”
Her brows shoot up, some of that familiar skepticism tightening her mouth. “You have a room just for admiring the sun?”
“It’s kind of like a sleeping porch,” Colt explains, hurrying to her side as Hog leads us to the enclosed room at the back.
It has wooden slat doors pushed back to make the most of the view and a couple of big daybeds piled with a mishmash of cushions.
“If I was a cat, this is where I’d spend all my time,” he pronounces, flopping onto one of the low beds.
“You could stop by and pet me three times a day.”
His gaze is on Birdie, but her focus is on the floor-to-ceiling window. “Wow, I never thought the ocean would eat up so much of the sky.”
“It’s an even better view when you’re down there in it,” Colt tells her, rolling onto his back and rubbing his hands together in glee. “I’ll take you later this afternoon, if you like. Pretty sure a couple of my old boards are still in the garage, so we could have your first lesson.”
“You’re not tossing her into the Pacific in February,” Hog growls, his scowl in full force. “You’ll give her hypothermia.”
Colt waves a dismissive hand, his attention still fixed on the omega. I’m pretty sure he’s imagining her in that itty-bitty bikini he wouldn’t shut up about. “I’ve got an extra wetsuit. She’ll love it.”
Hog looks at her and she shrugs. “I’m game.”
“See!” Colt crows. “Don’t hold her back, Sasquatch. She’s gonna be a natural.”
The admiration in his voice puts a little color in Birdie’s cheeks, and I’m loath to steal it away again, but there are some things we have to face.
As much as I want this to be a relaxing vacation for her, I need to know what might come over the horizon and bite us on the ass.
“How about we grab some food? We can chat about our plans after we’re settled in. ”
Colt shoots me a crestfallen look, but Hog nods. He’s as much of a realist as I am, if not more, and he knows that useful intel and careful preparation are only going to increase our chances of keeping Birdie safe.
Colt goes to a nearby café to get us some grilled beef sandwiches while Hog and I air out the place.
Birdie trails behind us as we check each room, making thoughtful comments about the hard work that went into crafting the house.
She seems fascinated by all the little touches that I no longer notice, and it makes me wonder about her struggles over the last few years.
Charlie said she left home at fifteen, first crashing with friends, but eventually living on the streets.
I’m still not sure how she went from a typical suburban life in the Valley to the True Pack Militia, but I’m guessing she hasn’t had what I consider a normal home life for a long time.
We eat lunch at the big mahogany table in the living room, then head back into the sunroom, because that’s where Birdie goes.
I’d have preferred to have the conversation somewhere less distracting, but my chest tightens as I watch her sink onto one of the daybeds, a cushion clasped on her lap.
Fuck, she looks so small and defenseless.
All my rage against Peak and Booth surges back to the fore.
I stare out at the ocean until I can get a grip on my dominance, but the look Hog shoots me says I’m not really succeeding.