EPILOGUE - BIRDIE
Six months later
“I can’t tell if this is a shell or a snail.”
I blink at the male omega who has strolled up to me on the beach, a battered straw hat tipped over sparkling eyes and his chest gleaming with sunblock. He’s wearing a bright flower-print shirt and looks cool and relaxed as he holds out a sandy offering.
I peer into his open palm. “Ah, it’s both. It belongs to the black turban snail.” I flip it over, checking the inside. “This one is empty, but hermit crabs sometimes use them for temporary housing.”
“Huh.” The omega’s face is alive with curiosity, but it’s fixed on me for some reason. He extends his other hand in greeting. “I’m Jonathan, by the way.”
“Birdie.” I clasp his hand, deciding his scent is a mix of soft florals and outdoorsy freshness.
He also has a mating bite on his throat, which might explain the richer, slightly metallic undertone.
I look around for his alpha and when I see two women strolling towards us, hand-in-hand, it clicks.
Jonathan is Carla and Maggie’s mate; the mysterious male omega who was so interested in meeting me back at the clinic.
“Hello, Birdie,” Maggie says as they join us. “You’re looking spectacular.”
I touch my hair self-consciously. It’s back to Pearl Blush, but I’m wearing it in a braid, because the wind plays havoc with the fine strands. Of course, that just gives Axel an excuse to pull out his wide-toothed comb after every beach walk. “Hi. And thanks. What are you doing here?”
By the way Jonathan’s lips quirk, I’m guessing I sound a little abrupt. The guys have been working on my social skills, but it’s sometimes hard to overcome a lifetime of keeping people at arm’s reach.
“Axel is up at the house on a work call,” I add, since part of being nice to people is giving them information they probably already know.
“Hog’s out delivering some of his furniture, and Colt…
” I nod at the ocean, where Colt is currently paddling out to catch a wave.
I still haven’t managed to join him, but I’m working on my acceptance that the ocean is just as beautiful when you’re in it as when you’re standing on its shoreline, collecting shells and driftwood.
“We actually stopped by to see how you are,” Carla says and it surprises me again how tall she is, even with her black trousers rolled up over her sandy calves.
Maggie looks almost dainty beside her, although her compact body still gives away her military background.
“I was hoping to have a chat, if you have a few minutes.”
The alpha’s shiny black bob is ruffling in the wind but her dark eyes are as quick and alert as ever. I try not to feel ambushed, but there’s something so determined about this alpha, and I did kind of flee her clinic without paying her bill or thanking her for her care.
I pat the mesh bag on my hip. “Well, I’m just looking for shells right now…”
“Perfect. The fresh air is so invigorating.” Carla puts her shoulders back and takes a deep breath, like she’s trying to inhale the ocean. “I can see why Axel loves it here.”
Axel has embraced beach life almost as enthusiastically as I have.
My favorite mornings are when he joins me to comb the beach, as he puts it.
He always manages to unearth some treasure, like the ocean has just been waiting to toss her bounty at his feet.
Second best is when he takes his work calls from the top of the beach path, his eyes following my meanderings like a hawk tracking its dinner.
“Maybe Johnny and I can help look for shells,” Maggie says, placing a hand under the omega’s arm. “We’ll see what’s over that way.” She points in a random direction, and as she steers him off, Jonathan sends me an apologetic smile over his shoulder.
“He seems nice,” I tell Carla, watching them stroll down the beach. “Did you drag him all the way here just to check up on me?”
“He’s been badgering me, actually,” she surprises me by saying. “He’s quite intrigued by your story. Most of the omegas he knows are pampered creatures who only step out of their pack’s mansions for shopping and cocktails.”
I squint up at her. “Does he have a mansion?”
Carla gives a startled laugh. “Well, I’m looking to give him a beach house.” She shades her eyes, then turns and points in the other direction. “About a mile down that way, in fact.”
“Really? You’re moving here?”
“Hoping to retire here, actually. Or at least, sell up the clinic and get back into research and publishing.” Her eagle eyes narrow on me.
“It’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you.
Axel told me a little of what happened at the illegal lab.
” I stiffen, my breath seizing in my throat, and she carefully touches my arm.
“He didn’t break confidence. He just told me the bare bones because I was still suspicious about the device.
He didn’t want me making waves in the wrong circles. ”
I barely manage to keep the sneer off my face.
That’s exactly what we’ve uncovered with the help of Colt’s contact, Cleo.
A whirlpool of corruption that includes both military and civilian buyers of Reeves’ worst inventions.
General Booth is working with various law enforcement agencies to peel back all the ugly layers, but the Lawson Pack has stayed away from the investigation, for obvious reasons.
As for Reeves himself, there’s a very credible rumor going around that he’s fled to Mexico to avoid prosecution.
“I want you to know I’m here for you, Birdie,” Carla goes on, her tone earnest. “As a therapist, or just as your regular doctor.” She pauses and her scent sharpens. “But what I’d really like is to study you.”
I gape at her. “What? Like a… lab experiment?”
She looks horrified. “No! You're a success story, Birdie. The things you’ve survived… and now look at you. Thriving!”
I’m already shaking my head. I’m proud of the life I’m slowly building for myself, but it’s still a small, simple life, and that’s how I want it to stay. “I’m not. I’m still finding my place.”
She looks at me thoughtfully, her gaze flicking from the ring on my finger to Hog’s bite mark. “Maybe you just need to take that last step.”
I know what she means. Embrace pack life, by embracing all the pack members.
And in many ways, I have. I sleep with all three alphas, although sometimes the bed arrangements can become a little crowded.
But I’m always with at least two of them, and since they left the military, we’re able to spend more time together than most packs.
A throat clears nearby and her packmates wander back over, Jonathan’s lips a little swollen and Maggie’s cheeks flushed with more than the sun. Guess they support Colt’s policy of always getting sand in your hair when you visit the beach.
“You don’t surf?” Jonathan asks, following my gaze to where Colt is doing something tricky on his surfboard, the wave curling around him like a salty embrace.
“Not yet. I’m still learning to swim,” I admit, pulling a face. “I have lessons at the Y.”
Sometimes three times a week, depending on Colt’s schedule. About a third of the time is spent in the shallow end of the pool with a kickboard, and the rest of it in the communal shower, Colt washing me off until he can’t taste a drop of chlorine. Anywhere.
I can feel my cheeks flushing as pink as Maggie’s, because Colt is walking through the surf, board under his arm and his wetsuit unzipped to his waist. He stops about ten feet back from the beach, a wicked smile on his tanned face. “Whatcha waiting for, little bird? Come and get your reward.”
I huff out a breath, but like usual, I trudge towards him.
There’s a breath-stealing moment as the ocean surges over my feet, but I push on, gritting my teeth.
It helps that I keep my eyes on Colt, whose chest gleams like the inside of an oyster shell.
When I get close enough, he gives a soft whoop, his arms flexing as he reaches out to snatch me off my feet.
I’m pretty sure he can feel my heart hammering through my tank, because he croons in my ear.
“So brave, little bird. You’re doing better and better every day. ”
I’m not sure my watery knees agree, but I let him carry me out of the surf, his board trailing behind us on his ankle leash.
“We’re going for ice cream,” Jonathan says when we’re safely back on dry land. “We heard there’s a new place on the boardwalk.”
“I’m in,” Colt says, rubbing his flat belly. “As long as they have chunky monkey.” He winks in my direction. “It’s Baggage’s favorite.”
The omega is still watching me, and he cocks a brow now. “Baggage? I’m assuming there’s a story there?”
“I could show you…” Colt replies, a devilish gleam in his eyes. He stabs his board into the sand and rips off his ankle cuff. “Want me to toss you over my shoulder, Baggage? I could carry you all the way to the ice cream store…”
I back away from him, holding my hands up, partly in surrender, partly to show them my sandy palms. “I just need to wash up and check in with Axel.”
I hurry off before Colt can catch me – or Carla can delay me – running through the softer sand and along the rocky beach path until I’m through our back door.
The quiet of the house descends around me, welcoming me in, but I don’t stop until I reach Axel in his office.
He has a coffee cup to his lips and a hand planted on his desk as he bends over some paperwork.
My racing heart slows just at the sight of him, and I carefully hang my mesh bag on the doorknob, wiping my clammy palms on my denim skirt.
He’s wearing a pair of boardshorts, still sandy from his dawn swim, so I don’t feel bad about nudging him into his chair and clambering into his lap.
He places the coffee cup on his desk and wraps his arms around me, nuzzling my temple. “Hey, sweetheart.” He gives me one of his rare grins, tucking a flyaway hair back into my braid. “What did you find today?”