36. Zephyr
Zephyr
The god of good fortune led Lazarus to the same place we were headed. While we did take the long way to get here, it seems Lazarus had the same idea to crash Revenant’s hideout.
Honey is clinging to me like the perfect little backpack, determined to cut off my air with the hold she has around my torso. I pull off my gloves and reach into my pocket, squeezing her hand since she hasn’t let go even though we’ve come to a full stop.
She’s fisting the interior fabric of my pocket so tightly that even when I squeeze her hand, she can’t clench any harder to squeeze back. Carefully, I pull her fingers away.
“Honey, we’re here.” I coax her, fighting a smile off my face. I purr to encourage her. “You can let go now.”
The way she tries to draw a deep breath and struggles nearly breaks me. I look over at Phoenix, who is focused on us, specifically, Honey. He’s wearing a concerned look, almost like the one Mom gets when one of us is about to do something stupid.
Honey’s head is turned to face him. What does she look like? Why won’t he comfort her?
Phoenix climbs off his bike and walks over slowly. He bends at the waist until his face is eye level with hers, and I try to turn to watch, but Honey’s death grip holds me in place.
He speaks in a low volume with an intense purr rolling through each word. “Hey, Hon, gotta let go of Zephyr so you can get down. Want me to hold you?”
She gives a tiny nod against my back and finally starts releasing me from her damn-near-perfect impersonation of Lazarus’s serpent form.
Phoenix pulls her from the back of my bike. She attacks him, wrapping her arms around his neck and legs around his torso. He purrs for her while I finally sit upright and put the kickstand of my bike down.
“Could she have not been fitted for a helmet?” Lazarus inquires softly as we come to sit at the fire with him. He rests his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, watching us across the flames. “The two of you forgot yours as well.”
We sit directly across from him, the flames and smoke a wall between us.
His disapproval of our sports bikes is well known, and even though we have shadows who can protect us, he insists on safety equipment.
But we were wound so tight that just getting on the road felt important, getting out where we could breathe.
And since we couldn’t shift and fly, the bikes were the next closest thing.
Phoenix sits on one of the logs, Honey still clinging tightly to him. He gently pets her hair and whispers something in her ear.
I sit close, but not on the same log, and examine Lazarus. He rushed out of the bunker, and when we arrived at the motorcycle lot, his bike was already gone. It didn’t seem like he was affected though. Not like Phoenix and I were.
Maybe he’s seen things that we don’t know about. Maybe whatever Lazarus lived through before we came to know him is so much worse than what we witnessed today. Or . . . maybe he doesn’t care. But if he doesn’t care, then why is he all the way out here?
I know how I feel about him and our little dysfunctional pack. But maybe Lazarus doesn’t know how to feel the same way, maybe he doesn’t feel the attraction I assumed we all share.
Lazarus watches us in the same way that I’m watching him, casually and as a second observation to the way he looks at the fire.
The heat of the flames warms the chill from the ride off my skin, my shadow cloaking around behind me to redirect the warmth so it doesn’t go past me.
After a few minutes, Honey wiggles off Phoenix’s lap and sits next to him on the log. His shadow cloaks around them much like mine does.
But for the first time, I notice how dark it gets as it wraps around Honey. It’s not the casual dark and slightly see-through version of a shadow. No, this is dark, nearly pitch black, and obscuring her from my line of sight. He’s shrouding her.
Looking at Laz, I try to judge if he’s seeing what I’m seeing. His eyes are locked on Honey to be certain, but is he noticing it? Does he see and does he understand?
Do monotheists know that when a spectrum match between alphas and their omega is so perfect, the shadows can block all the light that would be emitted from the omega’s glow?
I mean, Lazarus has seen Revenant shroud Evangeline, so he’s seen it happen, but does he and Honey understand how important that is?
How special this is? How this cements that she belongs with us?
Honey might not have glowed for us, yet, but if she did . . . we’d be able to protect her fully.
My shadow creeps away from me, drawing closer to Honey. It darkens upon its approach, blocking her entirely from my view. It’s expected. Phoenix and I have the exact same spectrum. There isn’t even a nanometer separating our shadow’s ability.
Movement in the corner of my eye draws my attention away from the perfect omega and Phoenix.
Lazarus pulls his hair down from where it’s bundled at the back of his head.
He only does that when he’s comfortable.
Which seems odd since there is so much tension between us.
As if avoiding it, he stands and moves toward the trees like he’s gathering more wood, despite the pile that was already stacked next to him.
“Lazarus.” Honey’s voice is barely audible over the crackling of the fire. “Don’t go.”
He turns back to us and returns to where he was seated.
“Can we be a pack now?” Phoenix looks around at the three of us. “Please.”
“Honey needs surgery, and obviously, money isn’t the issue, but us being a pack makes it that much easier to have this sort of procedure done,” I say, and once again, all eyes go back to Lazarus.
Quiet. So fucking quiet. The sounds of the fire and the birds around us are louder than Lazarus. They’re louder than him because he’s not saying anything. He’s hardly moving.
“We need a leader for the pack.” I urge Lazarus to answer. “We want you.”
“It is my fault that Honey suffered at Fox’s hand today. I am the one who told her to request to leave. It was my error in judgment.” Lazarus admits, his shoulders slumping, and for the first time in a long time, he’s anything other than rigid.
He almost looks like a person rather than an infallible force.
His words take time to sink in. He told Honey to leave.
I held it together while Phoenix fell apart, just barely, because Lazarus told our omega to leave. He knew how we felt, and yet he urged her to go.
Phoenix finds his way through the blast radius of Lazarus’s words. His response comes in a violent shift. His body explodes into the shape of his maned wolf, jumping over the fire and attacking Lazarus.
Honey recoils away from the violence, nearly falling off the log she’s seated on. My shadow swoops in, supporting her so she doesn’t hurt herself.
Moving quickly, I join Honey and pull her into my arms. We watch, transfixed, as Lazarus and Phoenix fight. Lazarus shifted into his large canine form, the Great Dane biting and fighting back. They’re about the same size, but Lazarus is heavier than Phoenix.
We sit frozen for two minutes of attempted bloodshed before Honey demands, “Stop it!”
That draws Phoenix’s attention first. He pulls himself away from Lazarus, circling rather than attacking. Lazarus keeps snarling, his head lowered as if ready to attack again.
“Stop.” Honey’s voice cracks, and all her previous strength pales from her body. “I said, stop.”
Phoenix shifts back first, his hair mussed and clothes disheveled. He kicks at the dirt toward Lazarus, shouting, “You’re a fucking asshole, you and whatever God gave you the authority to do that. You don’t get to send her away from us.”
When Lazarus shifts back, he takes the tongue-lashing in silence. He doesn’t straighten his cut that’s askew. He doesn’t pull back his hair that’s become a tangle. His shoulders rise and fall with the exertion of the fight, but he doesn’t argue.
I want to be angry like Phoenix. But I understand what Lazarus did and why he thought sending Honey away was the right thing to do.
It wasn’t. He was wrong. But I understand his logic.
Until Honey came around, we barely took care of ourselves without his prompting.
I got arrested because we didn’t listen to him about going back to the warehouse.
Nothing we’ve done would show we’re ready for an omega.
Tightening my arms around Honey, I kiss the top of her head and murmur against her scalp, “Promise me you want to stay.”
She nods against me. “I want to stay. I always wanted to stay.”
I’m still hurt that Honey was hurt, that my older brother did those things to her and I was forced to watch. It’s awful and it’s painful, but we learned so much. It isn’t fair, but without it, we wouldn’t know about Honey’s condition. We wouldn’t know that she needs surgery.
More importantly, we wouldn’t know how we truly feel.
Before we got to know Honey, we lusted after her, driven by our alpha instincts.
Now we know the truth, and we want her even more.
We need her, and as illogical as it is and as quickly as it’s happened, Phoenix and I have fallen in love.
I can see the same thing happening to Lazarus.
If he didn’t care for her, he wouldn’t have tried to send her away, right?
He wouldn’t fight for what he thought was best if he didn’t have her well-being in mind.
“How could you?” Phoenix shakes his head, anger still in his eyes. He lunges forward toward Lazarus again. Hands planted firmly on Lazarus’s chest, he shoves him. “How fucking could you?”
Lazarus takes the hit, stumbling back with his arms limp at his sides. Phoenix storms toward him, arms reaching to push him again. At the last second, Lazarus sidesteps the advance, ducking behind Phoenix and wrapping his arms around his torso, pulling Phoenix’s back flat against his chest.
The embrace is stiff at first. Phoenix contorts against him, trying to shrug off Lazarus’s hold, but he stops suddenly when Lazarus says something too low for us to hear.
He then says louder, “I made a mistake. I am sorry.”
“You better be,” Phoenix growls.
“I am.” Lazarus hugs Phoenix tighter, and after a long second, they separate.
The tension in our group has sizzled but not extinguished entirely.
“We must get Honey in for surgery before her next estrus.” Lazarus declares, immediately stepping up into the position of leader in our pack.
It feels right. Like this is how our little pack should be — together and with Lazarus leading. Even though I’m pretty sure Phoenix hasn’t forgiven him yet. I squeeze my arm around Honey, and she nuzzles closer. Maybe we all haven’t forgiven him yet. But we will.
My phone vibrates in my cut’s pocket, and I pull it out.
Revenant
We’ve found something. If the three of you are done throwing your temper tantrums, we’d like to continue saving omegas.
I groan, ready to head back and work all night if we have to, when another message comes through.
Revenant
Assembly, first thing tomorrow morning.