4. Phoenix
Phoenix
My cereal is soggy. I stir the multicolored pieces around in the bowl as I slump over it. The normal sugar high isn’t helping me drag myself through the evening before the sun sets.
Normally, spending a night ripping other people to shreds and helping omegas and betas get to safety, like the basement bunker or other safe houses, makes me feel good.
I feel nothing.
“Phoenix.” Lazarus says my name with a slight edge.
I roll my head from where it’s resting on my hand to look at him. “Mmm?”
“You’ll be late.” He taps his watch like I care.
“It’s fine, I’m almost done with the build I’m working on. It’ll be ready for pickup tomorrow as promised.” I huff and lean back on my stool. My arms slump at the sides, and my shadow absently swirls my spoon in my cereal, trying to be helpful.
The truth is, I don’t have any clue what I’m even working on or if that’s even the case. Zephyr usually handled all the timelines and stuff. I just build and assemble as I’m told.
Lazarus pulls his hair up into a low bun at the base of his neck, and we’re stuck in this pattern of watching each other.
It’s not in the usual way, like how I’d sometimes catch him watching Zephyr and me around the clubhouse, when he thinks we’re not looking.
Generally, he’s focused on us when we’re with one of the betas that hang around the club.
It’s the kind of look that isn’t quite jealousy but definitely isn’t just a passing interest.
He’s strong, muscular, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He’s hot as fuck.
What Lazarus doesn’t seem to know is that he has us.
If he wanted us to be an actual pack, more than just this fake ‘roommate’ facade, all he would have to do is speak.
Zephyr and I would gladly fall to our knees for him.
I blink slowly, imagining, maybe dreaming, about what it’d be like to have his large hand threaded into my hair.
But the more I think of it, the more I want to take that dream back to bed. To fuck my hand or sleep, I’m not sure.
I slide off the stool and drag my cereal bowl along the counter and over to the sink. Straining the soggy cereal, I yawn and then dump the rest of the bits into the garbage.
“See, I’m going.” I go to push past him, but Lazarus’s hand lands on my shoulder.
He’s taller than me, maybe by six inches, and has to look down to meet my eyes. The dark brown tones of his eyes are so different from seeing the muddy golden brown reflected in Zephyr’s.
“I miss him too. But we have to push through. He wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with Revenant.”
He’s right. I know he is, but I hate that he’s right.
It takes forever to tie my shoes. The laces don’t want to cooperate, and my fingers keep fudging the rabbit running around the tree before it goes into the burrow.
It’s not that far of a walk from our apartment downstairs and across the street to the workshop. Revenant is standing at the checkout counter when I come in through the front.
“Oh, look who showed up. I checked on your build, the one that’s due tomorrow. Have you even fuckin’ started yet?” he snaps.
I freeze, a breath caught in my throat. The inaction keeps me more respectful than the way I want to snap back. Revenant is the club president; he’s the boss. It’s his name on the garage out front.
I grit my teeth. “It’ll be done. Nothing needs to be painted. It’s just a rebuild.”
My brain has apparently woken up if it can give me all the details of what’s going on.
“Oh, it better be. Get Salem to help you before he leaves. We’re not losing this client because you’re having a pity party.”
Revenant walks around the counter toward me. He gets up close, looking down at me in a much different way than Lazarus just did. I’m pinned under his gaze.
His blue eyes are much sharper, angry even, and he says in warning, “Get it together.”
“It is together.” The words grit out before I realize I’m starting shit.
“The fuck it is.” Revenant raises his voice. “It’s not together at all. You’re a fuckin’ wreck. I half expect you to — fuck it. You’re Mayz’s problem. I’m not breaking Evangeline’s rule about coming home mad today. Figure it out.”
He storms past me toward the door I just came in.
“Omega whipped,” I mumble.
“Oh, I fuckin’ heard that.” Revenant comes back slowly.
It’s the dangerous, I’m-about-to-make-you-regret-it sort of walk.
He puts his hand on my shoulder, fingers digging into the soft meaty parts, and turns me to face him.
Rev’s face is bright red with anger. “There are no more days off until Zephyr comes home. No more leeway. You made it a week before letting your attitude get the best of you. Don’t even look at or talk to me.
Mayhem and Lazarus are your only points of contact.
I don’t even want to see you open your mouth. ”
My shoulders inch up around my ears with every word, and I regret what I said. This time, Revenant walks away slowly. I don’t move until the door opens and then closes behind him.