Chapter 3 Lark
CHAPTER THREE
LARK
He’s a wasp you don’t want to piss off.
My brother’s words have my stomach twisting with dread as I zip up my suitcase. I’ve only packed five days’ worth of clothes. Everything else, I’m leaving here. Including most of my gadgets and technical toys.
Because I’m coming back.
I… I have to come back.
I’m going to demand that he allow me to come back.
That’s the plan, anyway. A plan I will carry out the moment I set foot on the jet. I’ll tell this wasplike enforcer to put my brother on the phone. Then I’ll draw the gun I’ve tucked into my boot and threaten to shoot Noah if my brother doesn’t promise to let me go home in a few days.
It’s a weak plan.
Okay, it’s a terrible plan.
I don’t even know if this Noah Dragon means anything to Gio. Though, I imagine he does if he’s trusting the wasp with my kidnapping.
Maybe that’s a strong word. But it’s an accurate one. I didn’t consent to this.
Actually, no, that’s not true. I agreed to do this long ago, when my brother helped me out with the whole Gideon Henderson mess.
He was my man on the outside. The one with all the files that could destroy Gideon and his omega trafficking ring.
Of course, my brother would never have sent everything over to the authorities.
He would have handled it himself, something he offered to do a decade ago after I escaped.
But I told him we needed our own form of closure.
I didn’t expect it to take as long as it did.
However, it’s done, thanks to Silva and her pack.
Gideon’s dead.
His organization—Gideon’s Dolls—no longer exists.
And Gio has asked me to come home.
The timing feels a little too coincidental. Does Gio know we killed Gideon? I wonder. I didn’t tell him. But maybe he has eyes on me?
God, it would be just like my brother to have a bodyguard watching over me. Like father, like son.
I nearly grab my phone to call him and shout at him. To demand answers. But his goon is almost here.
He gave me a thirty-minute warning and then a fifteen-minute one.
Followed by that command to give Syrus a heads-up.
I obeyed only because I don’t want any trouble. The past is best left buried. And I’m going to keep it that way by playing along for now.
Until I board the jet.
Then all bets are off.
I pick up my bag and look out the window as an all-black vehicle approaches. It’s sleek and expensive-looking, telling me it’s my ride.
But before I can leave to meet the wasp, my phone rings and Silva’s name pops up on the screen.
I nearly groan.
Because I know why she’s calling. Tattletale, I think, the word for Syrus.
“Hey, Silva,” I say, forcing my most nonchalant tone. “What’s up?”
“Where are you going? And why is there an assassin escorting you?” She doesn’t waste time beating around the bush. But that’s Silva—direct and to the point.
My lips twist. “I don’t know if assassin is the right description,” I say slowly. “More like a bodyguard.”
“He’s six foot three with crazy eyes and a too-charming smile,” she says. “He has ‘assassin’ written all over him.”
“Is that your description or Syrus’s?” I wonder aloud. “And I’m guessing Syrus frisked him, right?”
“He didn’t bother. He said the guy looked lethal enough to kill with his hands alone.”
“Sounds kind of like a compliment,” I joke, deflecting. “Maybe they can be friends?”
“Lark.” There’s a subtle bite to her tone. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s nothing,” I promise her, hoping I’m not lying. “My brother just wants me to come home for a bit, and he sent someone to pick me up. That’s all.”
She’s silent for a long moment, and I know she’s not buying any of this. “If you need help—”
“I don’t,” I interject. “But if I did, you would be the first one I’d call.” That part isn’t a lie. Silva’s a badass. And her pack is… intense. She would be the best person to get me out of a bind.
But this isn’t her battle to fight; it’s mine.
“I’m going to be okay,” I tell her. “It’s a simple family thing.”
“A family you’ve never mentioned.”
“I’m sure there are parts of your past that you haven’t mentioned either,” I point out.
Silence fills the line, confirming my suspicion.
Still, I want to put her at ease, so I give her just a bit more to pacify her. “Remember my guy on the outside? The one I gave all that information to about Gideon?”
I pause for a breath, not needing her confirmation but wanting to provide her with a chance to process my words.
“Yeah,” she confirms, sounding wary.
“My brother was that guy, Silva.” I swallow, aware that what I’m telling her is directly linked with why I have to go home now. “So everything’s good. I’ll be back in a few days.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “I don’t like this, Lark. Something feels off.”
“It’s the outsider effect,” I reply, infusing a hint of nonchalance into my tone. “Once Noah’s gone, it’ll feel okay again.”
“Doubtful,” she mutters. “You’d better text me when you get to… Wait, where are you going?”
“New York City,” I admit, wanting to give her the truth. “And I’ll message you and the others. Don’t worry.”
“Famous last words, Lark.”
I smile. “I’ll be fine.” I pick up my bag, as the car has been parked outside for a few minutes now. Fortunately, the “assassin” hasn’t stepped out yet. I know because I’ve been watching for him. “Talk to you soon.”
“Okay…” The hesitation is clear in her voice. “Text me about bubbles, and we’ll come find you.”
“Bubbles?” I repeat with a laugh. “Really?”
“It’s the first thing I thought of,” she grumbles at me. “You got a better safe word?”
Honey pot, I think. But I don’t share that with her. “Bubbles is fine. I’ll find a clever way to use it. Like in reference to a bubble bath or something.”
“Good.” I can practically see her clenching her jaw. “Be safe, Lark.”
“Always,” I reply. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
I really hope that isn’t a lie.
And I’ll do everything in my power to ensure it’s not.
We say goodbye, and I pocket my phone. It’s the only piece of tech I’m bringing with me. It’s innocuous enough that no one will be suspicious of it.
Well, my brother will be suspicious. But that’s just because he knows me well.
Here goes nothing, I think, locking up my place and heading out to where the vehicle is quietly idling.
When the driver’s door opens, I pause and take in the sight of the large, muscular alpha unfolding from his bucket seat. I’m honestly surprised he fit in the sporty sedan. Because he’s huge.
And I suddenly understand Syrus’s concern.
Yep. Definitely an enforcer.
Or an assassin, as Silva called him. In my old world, those two terms were pretty much synonymous.
“Ms. Bia—”
“Lark,” I interject, not wanting him to give my identity away. “Just… Lark.”
One of his eyebrows—a dark red slash—lifts. “All right.” He walks around to the back of the car as the trunk opens. But he doesn’t pause there to wait. He continues toward me with a predatory grace that makes my heart skip a beat.
Lethal feels like an inadequate adjective for this man. He’s outright dangerous.
I take a step back on instinct, his eyes holding a touch of insanity that causes my heart to halt in my chest.
But then his natural cologne hits me.
All cinnamon and spice and alpha.
My eyelashes flutter, my pulse kick-starting into overdrive. And I realize with a start that this male—this exquisitely beautiful, homicidal male—is my scent match.
My lips part.
The world stops.
And I find myself gaping up into a pair of multicolored irises.
His hand is somehow on my hip. The opposite on my arm as he stares down at me in concern. “You all right, little bee?”
I sway, dizzy from his nearness. And… and the realization that this male… this male is my scent match.
Is that why Gio sent him here? Did he somehow know?
“Aurora?” Noah whispers, his voice low and edged with an emotion that’s difficult for me to define. There’s no way this deadly male is worried about me. Or even cares about me. That’s not how the crime world works.
If he’s my brother’s enforcer, then our scent match doesn’t even matter. He’s not high enough in the organization to claim an omega of my standing.
My father would have him executed, actually.
And Gio…
What will Gio do?
He couldn’t possibly know. Unless… unless he was trying to send me a gift?
I…
A deep rumble ignites from Noah’s chest, causing me to blink. A purr. He’s purring. God, why is he purring? Alphas only do that for… for their chosen mates. Their omegas.
Me.
I’m his…
Oh, fuck…
I close my eyes and try to find my brain. It’s somewhere inside me. Somewhere hidden beneath the toxicity of this instant bond. This need. This… Ugh!
Pretty sure I growl out loud.
When the alpha stills in front of me, I’m certain I did.
Yet he continues to purr. Which both infuriates me and delights me at the same time. “Can you… stop?” I ask, hating that it sounds like I’m begging. Because I feel helpless. His cinnamon aroma is overwhelming. And I swear there’s a note of hot honey beneath it all.
Which matches my own scent.
Brown sugar and honey. Like a damn bakery, one that has only heightened in power since my eighteenth birthday.
Sometimes being an omega is frustrating.
Scratch that. Being an omega is always frustrating.
Especially right now as my body sways toward the dangerous man and not away from him. All because my instincts are telling me to rub up against him like a cat in heat.
That’s enough, I tell myself. This is not happening.
Noah must agree because his purr ceases. Or maybe that happens because I asked him to stop. Not sure.
“Want me to get your bag?” he asks, his voice deep and slightly accented. Not Italian, though. More… Irish.
Which is strange.
The mob doesn’t usually associate with the mafia.
But maybe he’s just from Ireland? Or has an Irish parent?
It’s not a very thick accent, so I suppose anything is possible.
“Aurora?” he murmurs, his lilt exceedingly evident as he rolls the r sounds in my name.
“Lark,” I correct him, trying to steady myself. He uttered my legal name in a low enough voice that no one else could have overheard him, but that doesn’t mean I want to risk him saying it again, as he’s already said it twice. “And no, I’ll get my own bag, thank you.”
I use those words as a reason to step around him and walk over to the trunk to deposit my suitcase in the back.
When I turn around, I find him right behind me, the lethal predator moving on silent feet. I don’t jump. I don’t even wince. I just… stare up at him. “How long have you worked for my brother?”
He smiles. “That’s the question you want to ask me, little bee?”
“Little bee?” He called me that once before. “Seriously?”
He leans down, crowding into my space as he presses his nose to my neck.
Shivers break out down my spine, followed by a trail of goose bumps as his cologne drowns me in a wave of cinnamon and hot honey.
“Mmm, I can’t wait to make you buzz,” he whispers against my ear. “My sweet little bee.” His lips brush my cheek, then he steps back and gestures toward the car with his chin. “Let’s go.”
“You realize my brother will kill you if you touch me, right?” I demand, not following him as he goes to the back door and opens it.
The smile Noah flashes me is borderline mercurial. “I’m sure he’ll try, yes.” He cocks his head. “Now, are you going to enter the car willingly? Or do I need to start shouting your real name?”
My jaw clenches.
“Ms. Bia—”
I step forward. “Stop.”
He simply grins again, and I understand why Syrus called Silva.
Because the Widows Peak Sheriff was right.
This man—this wasp—is insane. I can see it in the way he looks at me. He’s probably a psychopath, actually. No emotions. No remorse. Just a calculated killer.
And he’s my scent match.
Fucking fate.
I skirt around his muscular form to slide into the car. His natural heat practically bathes me in a warm wave of alpha energy, ensuring I feel him on every inch of my skin as I settle onto the leather seat.
Then he closes me inside, and I’m suddenly surrounded by his scent.
A scent that deepens when he takes over the driver’s side of the sedan.
I’m so screwed, I think, closing my eyes for a second.
But then an idea hits me, and I pull out my phone to type a furious message off to my brother. I can’t believe you sent a scent-matching alpha to escort me home. Dad is going to end up killing this poor man now.
I almost giggle at that last part because poor man is not a good description for Noah Dragon. Something tells me if my father tries to take him out, he’ll fight back.
He’ll lose, of course. They all do. But he won’t go down easily.
My phone buzzes with a reply, almost like my brother was waiting for my reaction.
But his response confuses me. Noah’s your scent match?
You’re really going to play dumb? I fire back.
How could I know he would be your match? he returns. Don’t you dare let him touch you, Aurora.
I snort at that. You know what? Just for that, I think I’ll let him knot me on the jet. Fill it all up with our pheromones, just for you and dear old Dad.
Dots appear and disappear.
Then nothing happens.
I would worry about my brother trying to hop on a jet to stop me, but he doesn’t currently have access to a jet since he sent it here to get me.
Feeling oddly satisfied by that, I slip my phone back into my pocket and look up just as we pass through the small town center.
Club 21 will be hopping soon, the hangout place one I’ve been to probably a hundred times now.
The Widows own it. But Silva mostly manages it with a few of the others performing there every now and then. I’ve never been the performing type. However, I handled the tech and security when we first set it all up.
It’s a safe space.
One that used to not allow alphas.
That’s changed. As has the town.
But the overall haven-like atmosphere is still very much alive here.
I’m coming back, I promise myself as Club 21’s sign grows distant behind us.
This is just a short trip home.
I hope…