8. Lazarus
Lazarus
Alphas are meant to sleep during the day, as God intended. We’re supposed to search for a haven in the darkness and lie low. The daytime, with pure sunlight, is the time God gave to the omegas. They need to be out in the sun to be rejuvenated and healthy. For everything there is a season.
But something within me cannot find rest during the daytime hours. It has never been able to. So I take the noon watch.
It’s usually quiet, and I like the quiet simplicity of daytime activities.
Today it took longer than normal to get on with my watch. I’m even an extra cup of coffee deep in today’s routine from sleep deprivation.
When we got the notice that Zephyr had been released early, Phoenix was a mess because we weren’t home.
Having taken a job delivering some illegal cargo to a sister chapter, it was unexpected that we would be gone when he arrived home.
We rode for nearly twenty hours straight to get back.
The two of them have been huddled up on the couch for over eight hours.
It warmed my soul to have them back together.
They may try my patience, but that doesn’t change the way they’ve grown on me.
It took me twenty minutes to pull myself away from watching them sleep in a huddled mass on the couch together.
Having them together, in the apartment we share, is a blessing I was not aware I had taken for granted.
Revenant is busy with the business side of the club, Mayhem has a whole club of members to watch over, and their brother Fox, the club medic, would rarely put effort into making sure his younger siblings stayed alive.
As sergeant at arms, managing people is not supposed to be my primary duty, but someone had to take responsibility for the two most destructive members of the club.
I was the next highest-ranking member. So, they fell to me.
Originally, they moved into the apartment I called my own because it was easier for me to keep them out of trouble if I knew where to find them.
It started harmless enough. I made sure they were fed and dressed each day, as well as ensuring that they stayed out of the way of people who were actually working.
Now, I cannot seem to force myself to make them move out.
“Lazarus?” Salem calls my name as if he’s done it a few times already.
“Yes, sorry. How can I help you?” I turn to face him.
My shadow changes from serpent to canine.
“There’s a problem at the back gate. Hurry.” He urges me out of the garage to follow him.
The ruckus at the back gate, of all places, is enough to draw attention we don’t need.
We’re still feeling the tension of the city police checking our every move, here at the compound, after Zephyr was arrested.
It was a small charge, but apparently suspicion remains high.
According to Revenant, the county attorney is trying to ‘crack down on crime’ for some political agenda and has their eyes set on ‘organized criminal enterprises’ to achieve that goal.
The idea means nothing to me, but it does make my job of club security harder.
Every time there is a raid or police activity, I spend hours and days ensuring nothing — like listening devices — is left behind for tracking purposes.
Being unsuspicious is a necessity. So we’ve been keeping our movements, especially the illegal ones, quiet, under the radar, and never here in Hod’s Landing. It’s been trying at times but required for our club’s safety.
I stalk out into the yard to see two betas, and now Salem along with them, trying to quiet an omega. How peculiar.
“Oh, praise God.” The omega sighs when I come into view.
God. Singular. Not plural. Without real thought, I smile, feeling a little less alone in a sea of polytheists. “What are you doing here, Omega?”
“I need sanctuary,” she says, tears in her eyes. She’s scared, looking over her shoulder.
“This isn’t the type of place you seek sanctuary. Perhaps try the church.” I should turn away and go. I should take the betas with me.
But she has me stopped in my tracks. The devastated look on her face sparks a feeling low in my gut, a feeling I can’t just overlook and one that won’t let me leave her.
She looks over her shoulder again, her long brown hair hiding her face.
They who close themselves off from the cries of the poor will come to cry out and not be answered.
She looks back at me, and the sadness has me stepping toward her. The betas part as I approach.
“Just take me to your leader. Please,” she whispers. Her face is flushed red, and she draws a ragged breath. “I need your leader.”
I shake my head and stand firm with my resolve. “Little Omega, we’re not beings from outer space. There is no leader.”
“Fine, then your supervisor.” She draws a deep breath, steadying herself. Her soulful golden-brown eyes pierce into me with every watery blink.
Pulling in a deep inhale, I try to scent her, but the heavy wind off the water is blowing the wrong way. A storm on the rise brings thick smells of petrichor and the earthy muck from the inland sea’s waters.
“How do you know I’m not the one in charge?” I test her.
I’m not trying to be difficult, but this situation has trouble written all over it.
She’s all the way at the fence, and she whispers, “I was told he’d be a big blonde bear. He’d be a leader, like a reverend.”
“Told by who?” My shadow steps toward her, phasing through the fence.
Her behavior is equal parts suspicious and intriguing.
“An omega. I won’t say any more until I talk to the one in charge.”
Something in the way she says that turns my blood cold.
I pull my shadow back from her and am readying to deliver a standard line we give anyone who questions the club about omegas.
She looks over her shoulder again. The logical and rational thought is that the police would never use an omega as bait.
Techno may have a point that the city police are very focused on controlling alphas, but they do have care and concern for omegas.
They wouldn’t knowingly put one in danger.
Cops wouldn’t keep looking over their shoulder for someone chasing them. Nothing is adding up.
“The omega said they would be a motorcycle club and have a horse with too many legs riding east. She said they were in Hod’s Landing.” She whines, and it tears at my heart.
Why doesn’t this feel like a trap? Why do I not sense deceitfulness?
“We’re a motorcycle club. I don’t know anything about some omega telling you any—” The wind shifts, and I catch her scent.
The scent of slick trying to be hidden. Her scent, sweet and ripe, smacks me in the face, and my shadow becomes violent, snapping at the betas, shifting forms into the serpent, warning them away.
She’s in pre-estrus, the early stages of an omega going into her season to be bred. An unmated omega is a beacon of lustful temptation to alphas. While the club takes precautions to not be pulled into the temptations, the same cannot be said for every other alpha in the area.
“Open the gate,” I order, looking to Salem. “Hurry.”
“Bless you,” the omega says softly.
The gate slides silently on its track, and the second the opening is wide enough, she darts through.
The betas close it behind her.
She stops before me, falling to her knees. She wraps her arms around my legs, clearly not concerned by her proximity to my shadow.
“Not here, Omega.” I bend, helping her up by her shoulders. “It’s not safe for you outside.”
It’s midafternoon, but with the rain and overcast skies, more alphas are awake earlier than usual, enjoying the freedom the darkness offers their shadows. For no logical reason, I allow mine to wrap around her protectively. She tenses but doesn’t struggle.
Being with the sergeant at arms already gives her protection.
No one would go up against me, but my shadow ensures more protection.
While the members of the club all take illegal rut suppressants, designed to protect omegas in estrus from alphas who would rut her, I’m inexplicably drawn to protect her.
The suppressants may not be doing their job fully, or maybe it’s something more.
Before I can explore that notion, that there is something more between us, I usher her to the interior of the garage.
Once inside, I steer her straight for the door that leads to the secret elevator. No. If it is a trap, we can’t show her that. I divert to the hallway, straight to Revenant’s office. It’s near the room for assembly, and no alphas come over this way unless necessary.
The omega remains silent along the way. Fear scents mix with the intense sweetness of her slick. This is impure. Do not focus on the omega’s slick. I chastise myself.
“If you’ve changed your mind” — I pause, waiting for her to look at me as we walk — “I can call your pack.”
I haven’t seen her neck. Her long brown hair draping over her shoulders blocks my view, but I can only make the assumption that an omega this perfect, full of curves and beauty, is claimed. She’d have bite marks down the flesh, denoting alphas who marked her as their own.
“I haven’t.” She pants through what is probably an excruciating cramp.
I open Revenant’s office and usher her inside.
Since the raids started, after Zephyr’s arrest, Revenant’s office has become practically sterile.
It is clean and tidy, a stark contrast to the cluttered mess he usually keeps.
Any and all files are locked away in secret compartments.
The police weren’t able to pin anything on us as a club for any wrongdoings, but we’ve become even more cautious.
After pulling my phone from my breast pocket, I dial the number for our vice president first.
“Laz, what?” Mayhem groggily answers.
“We have a problem. I’m with the problem in Revenant’s office.” I keep it brief. No need to create a reason for a long discussion. “Bring Prez and Medic.”
“Shit.” Mayhem groans and hangs up.
The omega doesn’t say anything but curls up into a leather chair. She’s so afraid and yet so brave. She’s clearly determined to tell Rev something important.
I left the office door open and soon realize my error.
Phoenix pokes his head in, brown hair flopping with the movement. “What are you doing in . . .”
She looks over her shoulder at him.
“Fuck, Lazarus.” Zephyr leans in the doorframe around Phoenix, his eyes on the little omega.
I clear my throat, and that stops them both from speaking further.
The thundering of boots in the hallway beyond triggers the twins, joined at the hip, to slip through the door before the leadership can arrive. Phoenix walks past the omega and runs his hand across her shoulders on his way to sit in the chair closest to her.
The omega purrs.
Her soft eyes are fixed on him, and when Phoenix smirks, my cock stiffens as the darkest parts of my brain concoct a mouthwatering scene of the three of them in the throes of pleasure together.
No. I fight the vision and the urges that my body vehemently wants me to give in to. No, she’s going into the system. The twins aren’t ready for this responsibility. I breathe through my mouth, refusing to entertain that scenario.
Despite my efforts, my rut suppressants are getting a workout because the impure thoughts of rutting the three of them are louder than anything else.
It’s preposterous. The twins aren’t even my pack.
I mind them so they don’t get themselves in deeper trouble than they already find themselves in.
We’re not a pack. We do not behave in those ways.
Zephyr stands next to her chair, leaning against the wall. His back is to the corner of the room, a clear habit he picked up from prison to keep himself safe. The little omega’s mouth hangs slightly ajar as she takes him in. And I have to shuffle to discreetly adjust myself.
“There are two of them.” The omega looks between Zephyr and Phoenix and then back to me. Her eyes are slightly glossy, and sweat has broken out just near her hairline. “I like the idea of two.”
I pull my eyes off the three of them together, forcing myself to look at my boots and recite a prayer over and over again. Anything to distract myself. Once I finish the prayer, I continue to stare at my boots. I should clean these up. And perhaps some new laces.
Phoenix sends a low purr through his chest for her, and I am uncertain if I wish to slap him up the backside of the head or encourage Zephyr to purr as well.
“You could have led with ‘I have an omega in heat,’” Revenant growls, drawing my attention. His shadow, the massive grizzly, lumbers on two legs behind him through the door. “Phoenix, Zephyr, out.”
“No, thank you,” Phoenix sasses. “The omega likes me. She purred. We’ll stay.”
Fox snorts and comes to stand between his brothers near the omega.
Revenant rolls his eyes, and Mayhem, the last to join, laughs.
“That was an order,” I say solemnly, all the while wishing Phoenix would obey me but knowing, especially now, that he won’t. The brat. Zephyr may have, not wanting to ruffle feathers. However, after being gone for so long, the two of them will be, without a doubt, tighter together than before.
Phoenix glares at me. “No.”
Fox smacks him up the back of his head. Phoenix winces but remains seated. His shadow shifts forms, the falcon pecking at his older brother’s shadow in the shape of a fox.
Childish, and this is why we won’t keep her. I grind my teeth. They won’t keep her. I have nothing to do with it.
The omega is wide eyed as she watches Fox and Phoenix bicker, mesmerized. Then she looks up at Zephyr with the most devout adoration I’ve seen in more than a decade. I can’t focus beyond that, not until Mayhem grabs Phoenix by the shirt and his cut, hauling him out of the chair over its backrest.
I wince when his body thuds against the wall in the hallway, and Fox quickly pushes Zephyr out the door before Mayhem slams it shut.
The omega jumps. Her whole body shivers as the scent of fear wafts off her. She lets out a small, scared whine, and the pounding to the other side of the door gets louder as Phoenix tries to open it. But Mayz leans against it, keeping him out.