Nested #3
Warmth pours down the line, steady and dark and certain, his strength pressing into every cold place inside me. It doesn't fix it. But it props me up enough to lift my chin.
"Mother. It's me."
Silence.
I hear her breathing. Then a rustle, the click of heels on marble, and a door drawing shut somewhere on her end. The bright hum of voices in the background fades to nothing as she finds a private room.
"Lyra," she says my name in the same flat tone she always does. "You've called at a poor time. I'm at the club."
Mack's mouth falls open, rage and shock pouring out of him. He mouths something ugly at the phone, before flipping it the middle finger.
That instantly makes me smile.
"I apologize for interrupting your morning." I hear myself slide into a polished tone. Polite and distant. I’m just a woman on a call she’d like to keep short. "I won't take much of your time. I only wanted you to know that I'm safe."
"Have you been mated?"
Yup. That tracks.
No relief that I'm alive, or any questions about where I've been for a month. Just the one thing that actually matters to her.
"Lyra," she repeats, talking louder. "Have you been mated?"
I look up at Adrian as I lean against Nico’s chest.
Adrian is leaning forward in the folding chair, forearms on his knees, and when our eyes meet, his whole face shifts. He gives me a smile so full of love it steadies my hands.
"Yes," I say, my voice rising with pride. "I have."
"By whom?"
I look up at Nico, staring deep into his dark eyes. Nico nods once, before I answer. "Adrian Bennett. He's a good alpha. He's been taking wonderful care of—"
"Do you have a mating bite?"
I pull in a slow breath, trying not to grit my teeth. "Yes. He has marked me."
The sound she makes is small and displeased, the same sound she makes at a wine she intends to send back.
Owen shifts on the arm of the couch next to me, and I glance at him. The beta has gone rigid, his jaw hard, fury coming off him in waves. I slide my free hand over his and press down.
I'm okay. I promise I'm okay.
"Your father will want proof." Lavinia’s voice climbs, brisk now, moving into logistics. "He'll want to see the mark himself, and he'll want to meet whoever this—" she pauses like she’s trying to remember his name, "—this Aaron is."
"Adrian,” I say it clearly. "His name is Adrian."
"That’s fine," she says like she’s distracted. "Come to the house tonight at nine o'clock. We'll have dinner. Have your alpha dress appropriately."
Then the line goes dead.
She's hung up before I can say a word.
"Well, that was fun,” I say as Nico lowers the phone, relieved this part is over.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Mack practically explodes.
"That's your mama? You been gone a whole damn month, and she doesn't know if you're alive or dead in a ditch somewhere, and she gets you on the phone and can't be bothered to even ask if you're hurt?
" He drags both hands through his hair and turns in a circle in the small room, too much anger for the space.
"Not one word. Not are you safe, not are you okay, not a goddamn thing that a mother's supposed to—" He stops.
"I've known that woman for ninety seconds and I want to burn her goddamn house down. "
Adrian's up and across the room before Mack finishes. He wraps him up, one hand on the back of his neck, and pulls him into a hug.
Mack lets himself be held, but he doesn't stop.
"Scheduled her own kid in for nine o'clock," he mutters into Adrian's shoulder. "Like a girl she's fixing to fire."
And God help me, I smile for real this time.
Because he's so damn upset on my behalf, and I have never in my life had someone furious for me. And it feels amazing.
"I'm coming tonight." Owen stands. His voice comes out quiet and controlled, and that's how I know how angry he is. "I can't sit in this house knowing you're there, Lyra. I can’t."
"Damn right." Mack lifts his head off Adrian's shoulder. "We're all going. Every one of us."
"I want to come," Renata says, brightening. "I've never seen a rich lady get decked. I'll bring snacks."
"No," Nico says firmly.
"I'd be excellent backup." She looks up at her brother, begging with her eyes. "You've seen me throw a punch. If things go sideways, you'll want me in that room."
Nico levels a look at her that I feel in my own spine.
"Fine." She slumps, pouting, and mutters something in Spanish that makes Nico's eye twitch.
But under my even breath, the panic is already rising inside me. It’s cold and fast, filling my chest.
Nine o'clock. Tonight. In that house.
I turn in Nico's lap and wind my arms around his neck. His hand comes up to the small of my back, spreading warm and wide, and I press my lips to the heat of his throat.
"It's going to be okay," I whisper, but we both know I’m talking to myself. "One night and I’m done with them forever."
Then I gather up the cold spike of dread churning inside me, and I shove it down deep where Nico can't feel it. I flood our bond with warmth instead, with calm, and all the confidence I can muster.
Because the truth is, I'm terrified out of my mind.
But Nico has enough to carry tonight. He doesn't need to carry this too.